The infirmary was abuzz with tension that day. A sense of foreboding hung in the air. Nurse Judy's breath hitched when her eyes fell upon the boy. Edwin. His frail body lay limp on the gurney, pale and motionless, as if the life had been siphoned from him. His ribs jutted out against paper-thin skin, and a jagged gash marred his stomach, fresh blood staining the tattered remnants of his shirt.

She quickly rushed over and put her hand on his still open wound trying to keep pressure on it. A ripple of unease passed through the air above them.

Edwin was no stranger to this place, though not like this. His presence usually carried whispers of experiments and horrors. But now, the boy was teetering on the edge of death, and it was up to her to pull him back.

"What happened?" Judy's voice cut through the muted hum of the infirmary, sharp and demanding.

Guard Robert stood by the elevator door, his face a mix of confusion and concern. "We're not sure. The wound on his stomach wasn't from us when we blasted the door open. We think... he may have tried to take himself out."

Judy froze. The words clawed at her. Tried to take himself out? Her mind reeled at the implications.

"What the hell is Albert doing to him in those labs?" she demanded, her voice laced with venom. Her fists clenched at her sides, trembling with barely contained fury.

James stepped forward, his expression as stoic as a marble statue. "We're not obligated to share classified information, ma'am," he said coolly. "Councilor Albert's orders are simple: save the boy. No questions asked."

The anger simmering beneath Judy's composure threatened to boil over. "Orders?

Orders?" she hissed. "If Albert cares so much about saving him, maybe he should explain why this child is lying here with one foot in the grave!"

James's jaw tightened, but before he could retort, Robert intervened, raising a placating hand. "Let's not escalate this, Judy," he said, his tone far softer than hers. "We're just following protocol."

Judy wasn't having it. "Then follow it somewhere else. My staff and I need space to save him, and you two lurking around won't help in there."

James stood his ground, unyielding. "I'm not leaving his side," he said firmly. "If he wakes up and tries something again, it's on me." His eyes flicked to Judy's name tag. "Judy."

Her lips thinned into a hard line. "The more people cluttering this room, the slimmer his chances of survival," she snapped. "If you're so determined to play watchdog, then guard the door. Or better yet, take it up with Councilor Albert, let him give you the command."

Robert cast a wary glance at James, sensing the brewing storm. "She's got a point, James," he said cautiously. "If Albert finds out we interfered and the kid dies..."

James's nostrils flared, his fists clenching at his sides. "I don't trust him," he muttered, his voice a low growl. "You've got no idea the things

and now this?" He stopped himself abruptly, realizing he was treading dangerous ground.

"Watch it," Robert warned, his tone sharp.

James, still unsettled, muttered, "I know. I just don't trust the kid. He's already caused enough trouble."

James gritted his teeth and clenched his fists just barely stopping himself from making a mistake. Instead, he shot Judy a glare before stepping aside.

"Fine. But if he does anything, it's on you," he spat.

Judy didn't waste a second. "Good. Now move. And if there's anything else you're hiding that might help save him, speak up now."

James's eyes flared, but he remained silent, his jaw set like stone.

Nurse Judy didn't waste another second.

"Good. Now move, we don't have much time. If you know anything else that might be useful, please let me know now before we go in."

James' eyes flared yet he did not respond.

Another nurse appeared with a stretcher, and the team carefully transferred Edwin's fragile body onto it. His shallow breaths rattled in his chest, each one a battle against oblivion. Judy exchanged a fleeting glance with her staff, a silent plea to work faster.

The boy didn't have much time.

Inside the room, the nurses scrambled, taking vitals and cleaning the gaping wound on Edwin's stomach. Judy's focus was unyielding, her mind racing through possibilities. Yet outside the room, the tension between Robert and James lingered like a dark cloud.

"That woman," James muttered under his breath. "She reminds me of that damn doctor who's always pestering us on the Second Level."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "Doctor Cenilera?"

James nodded, his scowl deepening. "Yeah.

She's always asking to see Edwin or Albert.

Won't let up. It's annoying."

"Maybe you should let her," Robert suggested with a wry smile. "Might get her off your back."

James shook his head vehemently. "No way.

If Albert finds out, I'm dead. His rules are absolute."

Robert sighed, leaning against the wall. "You ever think... maybe she's onto something? She clearly knows something if she hasn’t been silenced yet.”

James didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the door as though watching over Edwin would silence the doubts clawing at his mind.

Behind that door, the battle for the boy's life raged on. And somewhere above them, Albert's shadow loomed, his intentions as inscrutable as ever.

Click! Clack! Click!

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The sharp echo of heels against the polished floor cut through the tense silence, drawing both guards' attention. Down the corridor, a familiar figure appeared, her confident stride as unmistakable as the determined glint in her eyes.

James stiffened, quickly averting his gaze.

"Speak of the devil," Robert muttered with a sly grin. "Looks like she's been assigned as the kid's doctor after all."

James's lips curled into a tight scowl. "Good.

Maybe now she'll leave me alone," he said, though his tone carried more hope than certainty. "She's been hounding me for months. Now she's finally got her wish."

Robert chuckled, leaning against the wall.

"Or she'll just have more questions for you.

Bet she's got a few choice words about all this."

James glared at him but said nothing, his jaw clenching as the woman drew closer. Her presence was both a relief and a reminder— one he wasn't sure he was ready to face.

———///////———

The room was small and stifling, its air thick with the sterile scent of antiseptic. Machines lined the walls like soldiers, humming softly as their flickering lights cast eerie shadows that danced like ghosts in the dim space. There were no windows, no respite-just the cold indifference of metal and the steady, relentless beeps of monitors tracking each fragile second of Edwin's fight for life.

Beep… Beep… Beep.

Doctor Cenilera stepped into the room, her composed façade faltering for a moment as her eyes landed on the boy's pale, lifeless form. Edwin lay surrounded by wires and tubes, his wound still gushing crimson that pooled in dark, accusing puddles on the floor. Her heart clenched, but her years of experience surged to the forefront, steadying her trembling hands.

"Get me his file! I need his blood type immediately!" she barked, her voice slicing through the room's oppressive silence.

"Closing that wound and stabilizing his oxygen levels are our priorities until we get blood for a transfusion. Judy, start an IV and monitor his vitals."

"Yes, Doctor," Judy responded, her hands already moving with practiced precision.

"I'll retrieve his file and order the blood," Nurse Aninlie interjected, darting toward the door.

Cenilera's sharp gaze followed her. "Make those guards outside useful. Have one assist you with bringing the equipment here. Now go."

"I'm on it," Aninlie called over her shoulder as she hurried out.

Judy leaned over Edwin's frail form, her hands steady but her heart heavy as she inserted the IV into his limp arm. The boy's face, pale and bloodless, seemed to stare through her, though his chest rose and fell faintly beneath the tangled mess of tubes. A sudden twitch in his fingers made her breath hitch—a faint spark of life that no one else seemed to notice.

"Do you think he'll make it?" Judy's voice was a whisper, trembling with the weight of unspoken fears.

Cenilera's face remained grave. "The odds are against us. If he loses more than forty percent of his blood..." She trailed off, the implication heavy in the room. "He's already lost nearly thirty."

Judy swallowed hard, her voice cracking.

"So... there's still a chance?"

Cenilera met her gaze, her voice softening just enough to be human. "Yes. But only if we move quickly. Closing that wound is critical. A transfusion won't replace what he's lost fast enough."

Judy nodded, determination flickering to life in her eyes. "I'll gather the equipment and be back right away."

"Please hurry," Doctor Cenilera urged, as Judy rushed out of the room.

Cenilera moved to Edwin's side, gently placing her hand on his forehead. The boy's skin was cold, clammy, causing her heart to clench.

She brushed a strand of damp hair from his face, her fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. His skin was clammy, unnaturally cold beneath her touch, and her chest tightened with a mixture of anger and sorrow. "What were you trying to prove, Edwin? What has Albert done to you?" she murmured, her voice barely audible— she spoke in a motherly tone.

The boy gave no response, no indication that he could hear her. Only the machines answered her questions, their relentless beeps marking time as it slipped through her fingers.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Aninlie returned, Robert following behind her, carefully wheeling in the blood transfusion machine. She handed Cenilera a box of ice containing two packs of O+ blood, her hands already moving to prep the machine.

"Hook him up, but don't start the transfusion until I give the word," Cenilera ordered, her voice calm and commanding.

"Yes, Doctor," Aninlie replied, her fingers deftly assembling the equipment.

Beep!

Cenilera tapped a small device on her coat, calling for an update from Nurse Judy. Edwin's breathing began to stabilize, though he remained unconscious, locked in a battle for his life.

As the machine hummed to life, Cenilera worked quickly, connecting the machine and inserting a tube to drain fluids from Edwin's fragile body. The boy's breathing began to steady, though his pulse remained dangerously weak.

Aninlie glanced toward Robert. "You can go now."

The guard hesitated, his gaze lingering on Edwin. The boy's stillness was unnerving, but for a moment, Robert thought he saw the faintest twitch of an eyelid—a flicker of something unspoken, something alive.

He cleared his throat. "I hope he pulls through," he muttered before stepping out into the corridor.

The memories of that day would linger long after the machines had quieted, and the room had emptied. A testament to the fragile threads that held life together, and the unanswered questions that still haunted the minds of those who witnessed it.

———///////———

Outside the infirmary room, James paced back and forth, his eyes darting to the door every few steps. His anxiety was palpable. The rhythmic clinking of his boots echoed off the sterile walls. When Robert finally emerged, James practically jumped.

"What's wrong, James? You need the restroom or something?" Robert teased, trying to break the tension.

"Of course not. What's the status?"

Robert leaned casually against the wall, his voice light. "Under control-for now. Don't tell me you're worried, James. That's not like you."

James glared at him, his jaw tight. "Albert's going to want an update. If I don't give him one soon, he'll come to me-and you know what that means."

Robert chuckled. "Relax. You're here, in the heart of the Fallen City. Albert wouldn't keep you this close if you weren't important. He needs you to protect him and his son, not some crumbling wall out there."

James huffed but said nothing, his expression still clouded with doubt. "I just want something to report. If that boy wakes up, it'll be enough."

"Yeah," Robert agreed, his tone unusually somber. "If he wakes up, that'll mean he's still got some fight left in him."

James nodded but remained rooted in place, his eyes fixed on the infirmary door. Neither man said another word, their thoughts circling the boy inside who would decide all their fates.

"Think you'd mind being the one to tell Albert when we get something?"

Robert shrugged. "As long as it's good news, I don't mind."

Suddenly, Nurse Judy came sprinting down the hallway, pushing a cart stacked with medical supplies. The sound of rattling metal and her hurried footsteps broke through the tense silence.

James caught sight of her first, halting his pacing. "Finally," he muttered, stepping aside and gesturing to Robert. "Open the door for her, Robert."

Robert rolled his eyes but complied, pulling the door open just as Judy rushed up.

"Thanks," she muttered breathlessly, barely glancing at him as she pushed the cart inside. Robert closed the door, turning back to James with a raised brow.

"What?" James asked defensively, narrowing his eyes.

"You could've opened the door. Are you still upset from earlier?" Robert shot back, his tone teasing.

James folded his arms. "You were standing closer. Besides, it's your turn to do something useful."

Robert smirked. "Fine. Next time, I'll make sure you're the one getting barked at for holding things up."

James just sighed, his gaze shifting back to the closed infirmary door. "I hope whatever she brought in there makes a difference."

Robert glanced at the door as well, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "Let's just hope they're fast enough."

———///////———

Inside the room, the tension thickened like a fog as Doctor Cenilera scanned the blood transfusion bags and medical equipment with a sharp, assessing gaze. She nodded briskly. "Perfect. Judy, hand me the tools as I call for them. Aninlie, I'll need you to assist me directly."

Both nurses responded in unison, their voices steady despite the weight of the moment. "Yes, Doctor."

The operation began without hesitation.

Cenilera worked with a calm precision born of years of experience, her hands moving deftly as she removed jagged shards of glass from Edwin's body and meticulously cleaned the wound. Nearly an hour passed in grim silence, broken only by the soft beeping of machines, the rhythmic hum of the ventilator, and the occasional metallic clink of surgical tools.

"Aninlie," Cenilera instructed without looking up, "start the transfusion. We need to stabilize him before his organs begin to fail."

"Right away, Doctor," Aninlie replied, her fingers flying over the controls. The machine hummed to life, the sound mingling with the subdued tension in the room. All eyes were on the monitor as Edwin's weak heartbeat began to steady, the erratic peaks and valleys smoothing into a consistent rhythm.

His shallow breaths grew deeper, his chest rising and falling in a way that no longer seemed like a losing battle.

"He's responding," Judy murmured, her voice tinged with awe. "It's almost... too fast.

I've never seen anything like this."

Cenilera's sharp gaze flicked to Judy, her expression unreadable. "It's Albert's work," she said curtly. "We're only scratching the surface of what he's done. Or what he's capable of."

"You think it's some kind of drug?" Aninlie asked hesitantly, her brow furrowed.

"Something designed to speed up healing?"

"Maybe," Cenilera admitted grimly, her voice heavy with uncertainty. "But if it is, it's unnatural. Inhumane. To manipulate a body like this... It shouldn't be possible. And yet, in this world, maybe that's exactly what's necessary. I don't know what to think anymore."