The scent of antiseptic and sterile air clung to Ethan’s lungs, thick and suffocating. He sat hunched forward in a stiff plastic chair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
His pulse was a steady, hammering beat in his ears.
He should have been in there with her.
But instead, he was stuck in this goddamn waiting room, staring at the clock as if time would spit out an answer.
The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly. The sounds of quiet conversations and distant footsteps barely registered. Everything was muted—like the whole world had tilted just slightly, like something was off its axis.
Like she wasn’t supposed to be in there.
Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply through his nose.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
<hr>
“Ethan Voss, you absolute liar.”
Eve’s voice rang out over the soft chatter of the café, playful and accusatory all at once.
Ethan smirked over the rim of his coffee cup. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Her eyes narrowed, suspicious. “Oh? So you’re saying you didn’t just tell your students that I was the one who canceled class last week?”
“I would never slander your good name like that.”
Eve scoffed. “Oh, please. Steven from my 9 AM section had the audacity to say ‘thanks for the extra weekend, Dr. Hart.’” She leaned forward, pointing a finger at him. “You owe me an apology, you jerk.”
Ethan grinned, resting his chin on one hand. “I think I recall mentioning that we—meaning both of us—mutually decided to give them an extra day.”
“Lies.”
“Selective memory.”
Eve huffed and crossed her arms. “You’re the worst.”
Ethan chuckled, watching the way the corner of her lips twitched upward despite herself. He had known her for years, and he knew that look.
She wasn’t actually mad.
She was messing with him.
And God, he loved it.
Loved this. The banter, the easy back and forth, the fact that he could always make her smirk, even when she pretended not to.
The moment stretched just a little longer.
Neither of them said anything.
And then—
Eve rolled her eyes. “Ugh. I hate that look.”
Ethan blinked, startled. “What look?”
“That stupid, smug ‘oh, I’m Ethan, and I just won an argument without trying’ face.”
He couldn’t help it—he laughed. “I don’t sound like that.”
“You do. It’s insufferable.”
Ethan took a long sip of coffee, smirking against the rim. “I’ll work on it.”
Eve shook her head, but she was smiling.
They always had moments like this. Little exchanges, little conversations that felt like they meant nothing but somehow meant everything.
And if he had known—
If he had known that was the last normal moment they would have—
He would have held onto it longer.
<hr>
Ethan’s fingers clenched around his knees.
The smell of coffee was gone. Replaced with disinfectant and cold air.
She was in there. She was in there, and no one could tell him why.
His breath came shakier now, shoulders rising and falling too quickly.
He had to do something. Anything.
The sound of footsteps made him jerk upright.
Dr. Mercer had appeared, his white coat slightly wrinkled, his expression neutral—but something in his eyes wasn’t.
Ethan’s pulse spiked as he shot up from his seat. “Is she—”
“She’s alive.”
The words should have been a relief.
They weren’t.
Because Dr. Mercer’s tone wasn’t reassuring.
Ethan’s stomach sank.
“…But?”
Dr. Mercer sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before motioning toward a quieter part of the waiting room. “We need to talk.”
Ethan followed, his legs feeling like they weren’t fully attached to him.
Dr. Mercer flipped open a file and exhaled slowly.
“We ran every initial test we could,” he said, his voice measured. “Bloodwork, MRI, toxicology. We even tested for rare infections and neurological disorders.”
Ethan’s fingers curled into fists. “And?”
Dr. Mercer met his gaze. "Nothing."
Silence.
Ethan felt his chest tighten. “What do you mean nothing?”
“No trauma. No toxins. No diseases. Her organs, her heart—everything should be functioning. But instead…” He hesitated.
Ethan leaned forward, voice sharp. “Instead what?”
Dr. Mercer’s face was unreadable.
“…Her body is shutting down.”
The words hit like a freight train.
Ethan’s pulse roared in his ears. “What?!”
Dr. Mercer inhaled deeply. “It’s as if… she’s at the end of her lifespan.”
The world tilted.
Ethan took a step back, his throat tight. “That’s impossible.”
Dr. Mercer nodded grimly. “I agree.”
His voice was calm. Too calm. It made Ethan feel like the floor beneath him was breaking apart.
“She’s thirty-two. You don’t just—just—” Ethan gritted his teeth, unable to even finish the sentence.
“I know,” Mercer said. “That’s what makes this so strange.”
A deep, horrible feeling coiled in Ethan’s gut.
None of this made sense.
He needed answers. Now.
Ethan’s heartbeat pounded against his ribs.
The words echoed in his skull, repeating over and over in Dr. Mercer’s calm, detached voice.
"It’s as if… she’s at the end of her lifespan."
"Her body is shutting down."
"There is no medical explanation."
Ethan sat rigid, hands clenched into tight fists.
This was bullshit.
This was utter bullshit.
Eve wasn’t some dying old woman. She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t weak.
And yet—
There she was. Hooked up to machines. Fading.
Ethan’s throat felt tight. His nails dug into his palms.
He didn’t even notice the trembling in his fingers until Dr. Mercer spoke again.
“We’ll continue running tests,” Dr. Mercer said. “But Ethan… I need you to prepare yourself for the possibility that we may not find an answer.”
Ethan’s head snapped up. “No.”
Dr. Mercer blinked. “Ethan—”
“No,” he snapped, voice sharp, barely restrained. “You’re the damn doctor. You’re supposed to know how to fix this.”
“We’re doing everything we—”
“Then do more!”
His voice echoed through the waiting room. A few passing nurses glanced over, but Ethan didn’t care.
Mercer exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I know this is difficult, but there is nothing—nothing—indicating an external cause. If I had any other explanation, I’d tell you. But right now, we have to—”
“—what? Wait for her to just slip away?!” Ethan’s voice cracked. “That’s your plan? Just—just watch her—”
His chest heaved.
His fingernails dug into his palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks.
Dr. Mercer’s face was calm, but his eyes softened slightly. “I understand how you feel.”
Ethan laughed, sharp and humorless. “No. You don’t.”
The doctor sighed. “I’ll let you know the moment we have something.”
He closed the file, gave Ethan one last unreadable glance, then stood and walked away.
Ethan’s legs felt numb.
His hands were still shaking.
This isn’t happening.
It can’t be happening.
His vision blurred as he buried his face in his hands.
Eve wasn’t dying.
She wasn’t.
But the machines said otherwise.
<hr>
"Tell me something."
Ethan looked up from his laptop, blinking at Eve as she swirled her drink absentmindedly.
“Yeah?”
Eve leaned her cheek against her palm, watching him with that look. The one where she was thinking about something way too deeply.
"If you only had a year left to live… would you want to know?"
The question came out too casually.
Ethan frowned. “Where the hell did that come from?”
Eve chuckled, shaking her head. “A student essay, actually. One of those ‘if you knew when you’d die’ thought experiments.”
Ethan leaned back, eyeing her. “…And?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I’d rather not know. Feels like it’d ruin everything.”
Ethan hummed, tilting his head. “I don’t think I’d mind.”
Eve raised a brow. “Oh?”
“I mean, I’d do things differently, right? I’d make sure the people I care about know how I feel.”
The words left his mouth before he could think about them.
Eve stilled for half a second, then looked away with a small half-smile.
“…That’s kind of nice,” she murmured.
Ethan watched her carefully, but she didn’t say anything else.
If he’d known—
If he had known she’d be lying in a hospital bed, slipping away without an answer—
He would have told her then.
He wouldn’t have wasted time.
<hr>
Ethan stood.
His movements felt stiff, robotic, like his body had decided for him before his mind could catch up.
He needed to do something.
Anything.
If the doctors couldn’t explain it, then maybe there was something they missed.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Maybe it had something to do with where she collapsed.
He turned toward the exit.
He was going back to the last place she was okay.
<hr>
The night air was colder than before.
Or maybe it just felt that way.
Ethan stood in the empty parking lot, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, breath visible in the cold air.
This was it.
This was the place where he found her.
And nothing looked out of place.
The pavement was still cracked in the same places. The streetlights hummed softly above, casting long shadows. A few leaves drifted across the lot, caught in the faint wind.
He dragged a shaky hand through his hair.
What the hell was he even looking for?
It wasn’t like he expected some magical clue waiting for him.
But something in his gut told him he was missing something.
He glanced at the spot where he had found her.
Right there.
She had been standing right there.
And then she had just… collapsed.
His fists tightened.
“Eve…” His voice came out hoarse.
Nothing. Just the wind.
Ethan exhaled sharply. He turned, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, ready to leave—
Then—it happened.
A strange pull wrapped around him—weightless, invisible, unnatural.
His feet froze in place.
Then—
CRACK.
The sound wasn’t a noise. It was a sensation.
Like something had fractured in the air itself.
Ethan’s pulse spiked as his body snapped toward the source.
A hairline fracture hovered in the air.
Thin. Small. Almost invisible.
But it was there.
It quivered, like a breath had been sucked inward.
Ethan staggered back, heart slamming.
The space around it rippled, distorting the air like heat rising off pavement.
And then—
Something stepped through.
The air tightened, like the world itself was holding its breath.
His heart pounded against his ribs. His fists clenched at his sides.
This was real.
The man who had stepped through the fracture stood still, chest rising and falling unevenly. His stance was firm, but there was a slight tremble in his shoulders—like someone struggling to stay upright.
Ethan’s instincts screamed at him.
Something was wrong with this guy.
The world itself didn’t seem to want him here.
The faintest shimmer pulsed around him before fading—like static, like something rejecting his presence. His breath came slow, controlled—but not effortless.
Ethan tensed.
This man was in no condition to fight.
Which meant he wasn’t here to attack.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.
And Ethan was done with people showing up unannounced.
His emotions were boiling over.
And his patience was gone.
“Did you do this?”
The man’s golden eyes lifted to him.
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
His gaze flickered—sharp, assessing.
Ethan saw the exhaustion there now. The tension in his jaw. The way he inhaled deeply, like someone trying to regain control of something slipping through their fingers.
“…Excuse me?”
His voice was controlled, but there was something underneath it—strain.
Ethan stepped forward, heat rising in his chest.
“Eve,” he bit out. “She’s dying in a hospital bed right now. No injuries. No reason. Her body just—shut down.”
His fists tightened. His breath was uneven.
His throat felt tight, raw, suffocating.
“Was it you?”
Silence.
The man didn’t react—not like Ethan expected.
He didn’t deny it.
He didn’t get defensive.
Instead—his brow furrowed slightly.
And that? That made Ethan’s stomach twist.
Because it wasn’t guilt.
It was calculation.
Like something wasn’t adding up.
Like Ethan had just said something that hadn’t been part of the plan.
The man exhaled sharply. Not frustrated—forced composure.
“Where is she now?” His voice wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft.
It was demanding.
Ethan’s anger spiked.
“You don’t get to ask questions! You tell me what the hell is happening to her—now.”
The man stiffened.
His golden eyes darkened.
“Then we are at an impasse.”
Ethan’s chest heaved.
He wanted to grab him by the collar, shake the damn answers out of him.
But the man looked just as tense—just as desperate.
This wasn’t just about Eve.
This guy—whoever the hell he was—was looking for something.
For someone.
And Ethan could see it written all over his face.
“Then let’s make this simple,” Ethan hissed, stepping even closer, his hands still balled into fists. “Who the hell are you?”
The man exhaled slowly.
Something in his posture shifted.
“…Orin Valtheris.”
Ethan swallowed. His throat felt dry.
Something about that name settled inside him like a stone.
“…Ethan Voss.”
Orin nodded once.
Then—softer, but still urgent—he said:
“Tell me everything.”
The silence between them felt thick, almost suffocating.
Ethan’s breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling too fast.
Orin wasn’t speaking fast enough.
And every second he took to process whatever the hell was going on was another second Ethan felt like punching something.
Eve was dying.
And this man—who had literally stepped out of nowhere—had yet to give him a reason not to think he was involved.
Ethan gritted his teeth, forcing the heat in his chest down.
“…You first.”
Orin finally exhaled, his golden eyes flickering toward the empty lot behind Ethan before shifting back to him.
“I was tracking something,” Orin said, his voice steady now. “Something that should never have been able to reach this world. The trace led me here.”
Ethan’s patience snapped.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Orin didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his fingers twitched slightly at his side before he raised a hand.
The air around them shuddered.
Ethan stiffened, a strange pressure brushing against his skin—there but not there, like something unseen had shifted around them.
Then—it vanished.
Orin’s fingers flexed slightly, his gaze darkening.
“There was a disturbance here,” he muttered under his breath.
Ethan’s jaw locked.
“No shit,” he snapped. “Something happened here. Eve collapsed. And you? You showed up out of nowhere. So start explaining.”
Orin finally met his gaze fully.
Then—with quiet certainty—
“She was drained.”
Ethan froze.
His chest tightened.
His breath caught, like someone had just shoved a knife under his ribs.
Drained.
Drained of what?
Orin exhaled, the weight of his own words sinking in.
“It needed energy to survive,” he said, his tone measured, controlled. “She was there. It took what it could.”
Ethan’s stomach twisted.
The air felt too thin.
“You’re saying—” His throat felt tight. “She was just… a source to that thing?”
“Yes.”
Ethan’s hands shook.
Everything inside him screamed to reject it.
Eve wasn’t just some random fuel source. She was real. She was kind. She was brilliant.
She was supposed to have her whole goddamn life ahead of her.
And now some thing had stolen that from her?
His breath came faster, sharper.
His vision blurred with rage.
“…So that’s it?” he muttered, voice laced with something dangerously close to violence. “She was just there, and it took what it wanted?”
Orin held his gaze.
“Yes.”
Ethan let out a sharp, bitter laugh.
His fingers ached from how hard he was clenching his fists.
“That’s just fucking great,” he hissed. “So she’s dying because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
Orin’s golden eyes darkened.
“No.”
Ethan’s head snapped up.
Orin’s voice was lower now, calmer—but heavier.
“It wasn’t random,” he said. “It was desperate.”
Ethan’s pulse spiked.
“What?”
Orin inhaled deeply, rolling his fingers absently—like someone replaying the sequence of events in his mind.
“It must have been wounded,” Orin said. “Weaker than I expected. It should not have needed to feed so soon.” His gaze flickered, distant for half a second. “That means it’s unstable.”
Ethan’s breath hitched.
His body felt cold.
His fists tightened again, shaking slightly.
None of this made sense. None of it.
And yet—
His gut was screaming that every word was true.
His voice came out raw. Hollow.
“…It needed her life force?”
Orin’s golden gaze held his.
“Yes.”
Ethan’s hands shook harder.
Because that meant Eve wasn’t just hurt.
She was dying.
Because something stole the very thing keeping her alive.
Ethan’s heart pounded against his ribs.
His throat felt tight.
And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or break something.
But one thing was certain.
He needed to know how to stop this.
He needed to know how to fix this.
His hands clenched into fists as he glared at Orin, his anger sharp as a blade.
“Tell me how to bring her back.”
He had demanded an answer.
And now, as Orin stared at him, golden eyes unreadable, something about the weight in his silence made Ethan’s stomach tighten.
There was an answer.
But it wasn’t going to be easy.
Orin finally exhaled.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking.”
Ethan’s patience snapped.
“Then make me understand.”
Orin’s expression remained calm—but heavy.
The kind of look someone wore when they knew the next words they spoke would change everything.
“She’s alive,” Orin said. “But she won’t be for long.”
Ethan’s fists tightened.
“I know that.”
“You don’t,” Orin countered, his voice sharper now. “Her body is barely holding on. If nothing is done, she will fade, and nothing in this world will be able to stop it.”
Ethan’s stomach twisted.
He already knew that.
Every second that passed was another second closer to losing her.
He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus.
“Then tell me how to fix it.”
Orin hesitated.
Not because he didn’t have an answer—but because he wasn’t sure if Ethan was ready to hear it.
And that hesitation?
That made Ethan’s blood boil.
“You don’t get to hesitate now,” Ethan snarled. His voice was hoarse, raw. “You don’t get to stand there acting like this is just some theory to you.”
His throat was dry. His breath was shaking.
“I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what I have to do.”
His voice dropped lower, shaking, but steady.
“I will give anything to bring her back.”
Orin’s gaze darkened.
And then—he spoke.
“You can’t save her from here.”
Ethan’s breath caught.
Orin continued, voice steady.
“Earth can’t sustain her for long. Not in that condition. No medicine, no treatment here will stop what’s happening to her.” He inhaled slowly. “But there is something in my world that can.”
Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs.
Orin’s golden gaze locked onto his, unwavering.
“You need to leave this world.”
Silence.
Ethan’s fingers twitched.
“…What?”
“You heard me,” Orin said. “If you want to save her, you have to leave Earth. You have to go where the cure exists.”
Ethan’s chest tightened.
But before he could speak, Orin’s voice cut deeper.
“And if you do—”
A pause.
A long, heavy pause.
“Ethan Voss will cease to exist.”
The world lurched.
Ethan’s breath hitched.
“What…?” His voice came out quieter than he wanted.
Orin’s expression was unreadable.
“You will disappear from this world,” he said evenly. “No one will remember you. It will be as if you never existed.”
Ethan’s stomach twisted violently.
He staggered back.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The laws of Earth do not permit outsiders,” Orin said. “I am here, but I do not belong. That means the world is already trying to reject me. If I stay like this, I won’t be able to act freely—I won’t be able to track what I came here for.”
His golden eyes flickered.
“But if I take your place…”
Ethan’s breath hitched.
“…What?”
Orin’s tone didn’t waver.
"And in exchange," Orin said quietly, "I give up my own. My name. My past. Everything that I was."
Ethan barely heard his own breath.
"This is not an easy trade. You give up your world. And I… will no longer be the man I was before."
Ethan staggered back, the weight of Orin’s words suffocating.
“No. No, that’s—” He dragged a shaky hand through his hair. “That’s not— That’s not how this works. You don’t just—just erase someone.”
But Orin didn’t falter. His golden gaze remained steady, unwavering.
"This world will not allow two of us. If I stay as I am, the laws will reject me. But if I take your place, I can operate freely." His voice lowered slightly. "And you… will have a chance to save her."
Ethan’s throat tightened.
Ethan’s mind reeled.
He had been ready to give anything to save Eve.
Anything.
But this—this was different.
This wasn’t just leaving.
This was erasing himself.
Gone.
No memories. No traces. No second chances.
The weight of it sank in, sharp and suffocating.
If he agreed, the world would move on.
No one would search for him. No one would even know he was missing.
Except for one person.
“…You’d be the only one who remembers me.”
Orin exhaled slowly, his fingers curling slightly at his sides—a rare sign of hesitation.
His golden eyes flickered with something almost unreadable.
Then—slowly, quietly—he nodded.
“Yes.”
A cold, suffocating silence settled between them.
And for the first time since this nightmare started—
Ethan felt afraid.
Not of dying. Not of losing everything.
But of becoming nothing.