My head turned towards Kaytlinn. “Is that so?” I asked, in a vain attempt of gathering enough time to process what I just heard.

Her eyes just stared at me, but unlike how I thought they would. She was worried, yes, but her smile was tender. I was failing to understand if it was a look to comfort me or one of just pure pity.

“Ans...” She said, as her hand tried to reach out to mine, freezing with hesitance just before making contact. Giving up, she puts it on her knee, and pulls the chair closer.

“You’re alright now. Relatively speaking.”

Moments after finishing that sentence, she takes a quick glance at my eyes.

“...Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry. I’m not good with bedside manners.”

“Bed manners? Am I dying?”

“What?! No!” She loudly exclaims. Putting her hands up.

“No. No. Nothing like that.” She tries to reassure me, waving them around nervously, saying ‘no’ in every way she can with her body language.

“How…” I hesitate, trying to twist the words in a way that I could accept, but I can’t.

“How long do I have left?”

“Ans. Look at me.”

It is then that Kaytlinn firmly grasps my hand, and gets her face so close that I can smell her. Her mild perfume is mixed with the metallic stench of blood on her clothes.

“You’re not dying. I promise you.”

Her reactive personality made it hard to trust her words, but I had never seen Kaytlinn this serious about something before. With the little memories that I had recovered at the time I thought so, at least.

“Then… What is wrong with me?

“N-Nothing is wrong with you.” Kate says, clearly hesitating now. She’s likely lying, but I decide not to push it any further, as she attempts to change the subject.

“I feel truly blessed that I could meet you again Ans, but I have to go now. Other patients need me.”

Even though the tension is now unpleasant, I try to lighten up and not leave a bad impression. “Right. I understand. It was nice to see you again too.”

With that, Kaytlinn lets go of my hand, hurriedly getting up from the stool. She stands towering over my broken body for a short while, putting her wedding ring back on her finger and giving me one last smile, before turning around and marching back, not with the hurry of someone who’s late for something, but neither with the patience of someone whose mind is clear of worries.

The door closed behind her with a gentle locking sound, leaving me once more to my own thoughts. And there was a lot to think about.

Amongst the disorder, I try to take a moment and think about everything gathered thus far.

My father betrayed me and my mother, joining the very Raspelian army that slayed our village, all for reasons unknown to me. I later joined one of the groups operating under the Raspelian church; fanatics using the Raspelian Cross as their symbol, to ease my access into the military and eventually get promoted to the Feuerlilie knights, the most decorated veterans serving under the Emperor’s crown, the branch of soldiers which my father was part of.

The act of the religious zealot took a hefty toll on my psyche. I felt insane at times, acting like something I was not, and truth be told, the line got blurry at times, but I had to. I was still very far from my goal. Could it be that I had actually gone mad?

What I saw before ending up here felt real to me. The details of that one night felt clearer in my fragmented mind than the very room before my eyes. Doubt was eating at me. That angel’s celestial eyes, the blade of my shattered sword digging into them.

…My sword.

Remnants of that night should still be out there somewhere. If someone brought me to this hospital, they must surely know something—or at least be able to give me some type of closure.

Before long, without realizing, I was beginning to gradually fall off to sleep again, thinking about my past life, my mother, the re-acquaintance of an old friend, everything. The sweet embrace of a dreamlike state washed over me, as my vision slowly faded to a familiar comforting darkness.

Incorporeal, I began swimming into this ethereal void, as shards of what felt like a stranger’s echoing memories surrounded me like vultures. My hand reached out to grab them, again and again, fading from my grasp as soon as I could clench it into a fist, all the while they laughed at me in mockery.

After countless tries, I slipped on my own footing in exasperation, catching the fall by extending my arms outwards onto the ground. For a moment, I stared at the back of my hands fully spread in front of me, as the floor started to oddly resemble the texture of gravel and sparse blades of grass to my touch.

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With a sudden and great pressure on my spine, my elbows gave in. Unable to hold my weight, my head fell onto the cold sharp stones underneath me. I turned my head at the last moment and used my cheek to soften the fall, getting my skin bruised and cut on impact.

Before me, a woman wearing white shining armor, in the same condition as myself, looked at me. Through me. With the stare of God-given judgment, as yellow liquid slowly creeped from the side of her head towards me.

I tried to move, but I felt locked into place, like a dozen pairs of arms were restraining me from somewhere just outside of my range of vision.

My breath became irregular. My pulse quickened. I felt trapped; suffocated.

But then, behind the creature’s silhouette, I saw a small hand—a girl’s, reaching out to me. With extreme ambivalent feelings of both intense desperation and the relief of a way out, I instinctively reached towards it.

Somehow, I knew who they were.

Were they coming to help me, or was I struggling like this in an attempt to help them?

That’s when I remembered… Lulu.

— “Excuse me, sir.”

Just like that, everything quickly faded into nothingness. The fleeting memory of what I just witnessed fled from me once again.

Maybe another time.

The sudden voice snapped me back out of the dream. This time, coming from a woman dressed as an actual nurse stepping into the room.

She behaved exactly as Kaytlinn did with me when we initially met, with a constant speed and maximized efficiency, as if to make every second count.

“...Are all the nurses here in such a hurry?” I asked, rubbing my eye, but got ignored.

“Pardon the intrusion. I’m here to escort you to your dorms. We need to assign another critical patient to this room.” She said, walking towards me, dragging along with her what looked to be an old rusted wheelchair.

“What is that?” Again I tried to inquire, yet still no answer. Upon walking up to the bed, she lets go of the wheelchair and tries to reach out and grab me by my shoulders. Discombobulated by the sudden intrusion, I dodge her attempt.

“I don’t need that. I can walk fine on my own, thanks.” I said, while holding my hand up to her, motioning for her to stop what she’s doing.

“Right. Suit yourself, but I need you out of here. Now.” She firmly, almost angrily replied, completely abandoning her professional facade.

Not even having looked me in the eyes once in this entire exchange, without skipping a beat, she grabs the handles of the chair and leaves the room just as fast as she walked in, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

I steadily get up, rotating my body towards the side of my bed, using the stool to prop myself on my feet.

Everything aches. My legs can barely support my weight, and I feel ravenously starved, but I have been through worse. Slowly but surely, one bare foot in front of the other, I waddled my way to the exit, every step making a slapping sound against the wooden pavement.

Once I finally stepped out of that room, it took me a few seconds to fully process what I was witnessing. The entire hospital was in pure chaos; only way I could describe what I saw in front of me was ‘Hell’.

Several dozen medics in tight, crowded corridors were running around with people in old-era wheelchairs, even worse looking than the one the nurse brought into my room. People were loud, some were yelling orders to their co-workers, others screaming in pain, both in pure guttural anguish and with the weakness of a sore throat. It felt as if there were more blood splatters on the walls and floor of the hospital than in a slaughterhouse. Most patients were missing limbs, some of them had their entire heads wrapped in bandages, poorly hiding the grotesque mess of flesh underneath.

Upon seeing the scene, my mind went blank in an attempt to save the little sanity I had left. Why was everyone else in these conditions? Why wasn’t I? Were all these poor souls victims of the battle?

I looked down at my own wraps, checking myself, touching in disbelief, making sure I was actually in one piece, but the realization that I was only made it worse.

Guilt creeped into my soul, corrupting the only drop of stability I had built from my interaction with Kate. I was afraid again, anxious, back from when I first woke up feeling dazed.

“Sir, move out of the way.” A voice said authoritatively from my left.

Two attendants—a man and a woman—were making their way towards my direction, carrying yet another wounded person on a stretcher.

I stepped to the side, giving enough space for them to enter the room I had previously slept in. On their way there, I catched a glimpse of the patient they were bringing inside: A man, looking of younger age than myself, with plaster covering the entirety of his right upper body where an arm should usually be, looking at me with an erratically moving pupil above his bloodied, absent lower jaw, which somehow did not hinder his ability to wail in agony.

My ears were ringing. I felt sick to my stomach.

“Mister…?”

Before the dizziness could completely overtake me, another worker came up to me with a pen and clipboard in her hand.

I heard the screeching become muffled, as the door behind me closed.

“Your name?”

“N-Name?” I said, attempting to hold back my urge to throw up right in front of her.

“Right. Name. Name...”

“Yes. Your name.” She said, almost irritated at me for wasting her time, unfazed by the horrors in the background.

“Excuse him. He’s Ansel.” Said a familiar voice from behind me. When I turned around, it turned out to be Kaytlinn. As if to acknowledge my look, she gives me a slight nod.

“Von Adler’s son? No wonder he’s in one piece.” The nurse interjects, mixing her own words with a long sigh. She clicks her tongue at the end of the sentence, likely as an involuntary tic to keep herself calm.

“Actually.” I interrupted both of them, looking back at the nurse.

“I’d prefer to be recorded with my mother’s name, von Necci.”

Kaytlinn makes a small grimace in awkwardness, conscientious that she had just made a mistake and said something I disliked.

The worker gives me an annoyed glance, but remains silent. Her pen presses into the clipboard, audibly drawing a line where she was previously writing in one swift motion.

“Mr. Necci, you’ve been assigned to the psychiatric ward.” The nurse declares.

“Doctor Kaytlinn has diagnosed you with post-traumatic stress disorder, amnestic syndrome and severe psychosis.”