“Let’s see how bad you messed yourself up.”

I pulled his coat aside without waiting for permission. The fabric stuck slightly where the blood had dried. Not good.

“Hold still,” I added, more out of habit than necessity.

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t react at all, really. That was the first thing that felt wrong. Most people—even trained ones—had something. A shift in breathing. A tightening of the jaw. A flicker of pain.

Adrian Vale?

Nothing, it seems.

Like his body had decided pain wasn’t worth acknowledging. My fingers pressed lightly against his side, probing around the wound. Warm. Too warm. Still bleeding under the surface.

“Who did the initial wrap?” I asked, not looking up.

“Field medic,” one of the men behind him answered.

His tone was careful. Measured. Watching me.

“They did a sloppy job,” I said flatly. “You’re lucky he didn’t make it worse.”

A sharp inhale came from somewhere behind me. I guess that person might've been the field medic. Right now that Didn’t matter.

“Sit.”

Adrian didn’t argue. Didn’t question. Just lowered himself onto the table with controlled precision, like even that was calculated. My hand came up again—steadying his shoulder as I adjusted his position.

Firm. Unthinking. Necessary. But the moment my palm made contact—

He stilled. Not visibly. Not in a way anyone else would notice. But I felt it. A pause. A fraction of a second where something in him—

Locked. My fingers shifted slightly, pressing him back just a bit more to expose the wound.

“Lean back,” I said.

He did. Slowly. Carefully. Like he was aware of every inch of space between us.

Weird. But I didn’t dwell on it.

“Scissors.”

They were placed into my hand immediately. Good. She was quick this time.

I cut through what was left of the fabric, peeling it back to reveal the injury fully.

“…tch.”

Deeper than I expected. Angled wrong to boot. Whoever did this didn’t hesitate. My focus sharpened. Pressure first. Then clean.Then close. My hands moved—

And then paused. Just for a second. There. That flicker again. Wrong step. No—adjust. Memory snapped into place a beat too late, but just in time to correct it.

I exhaled quietly. Still not smooth. Still not fully mine. But working. That was enough. Behind me, I could feel it. The shift. The tension.

“Watch your hands,” one of them said suddenly.

My movement stopped.

Slowly—

I glanced up. The man who spoke wasn’t the same one from before. Different build. Different stance. But the same look. Suspicion.

“Excuse me?” I said, tone flat.

“You’re hesitating,” he continued. “You expect us to trust—”

“Then don’t.”

The words came out sharper than intended. Clean. Final.

“If you don’t trust me, take him somewhere else.”

Silence. Thick. Immediate. I didn’t look away. Didn’t soften it. Didn’t care.

“He’s losing blood,” I added, quieter now, but no less firm. “So if you want to keep talking instead of letting me work, that’s your choice.”

No one responded. Good. Because I was already turning back. Refocusing. Not worth it. Adrian hadn’t moved. Not once. Not even when they spoke. Not even when I snapped back. Just—

Watching. I felt it. Even without looking. That gaze. Steady. Unreadable

…why? My jaw tightened slightly. Focus. Work first. Everything else later.

So far this is real.

The thought came suddenly.

Clear. Cutting through everything else.

This isn’t a dream. This isn’t—

My grip tightened slightly as I worked. I’m here. Actually here. A quiet, almost disbelieving breath left me. So that means—

I’m dead. The realization settled in strangely. Not heavy. Not overwhelming. Just… there.

“Huh,” I thought dryly. “Out of everything, I really choked to death.” Somehow, remembering it now feels so distant. A weak mental snort followed. Pathetic. My hand shifted again, pressing down to control the bleeding.

Focus.

Priorities.

Right.

Plan.

I need a plan.

Mental note:

Step one:

Save him.

That part was already in motion now, but also save him from the novel's ending.

Step two:

Figure out where exactly I am in the timeline.

Before the female lead.

Or Before the betrayal.

Before—

“…he did not resist…”

My jaw tightened.

Not happening.

Step three:

Gather information.

Carefully.

No sudden changes. No drawing attention.

I didn’t know how much this version of me was supposed to know.

Didn’t know what would—

“Doctor.”

My assistant’s voice, quieter now. Controlled. 

“He’s bleeding through.”

“I see it.”

I adjusted immediately, applying more pressure, shifting angle—

Better.

Step four:

Blend in.

Act normal.

Or at least—

Close enough to normal.

Step five—

My hand paused.

Just for a second.

My gaze flicked up.

Meeting his.

Directly. Blue. Cold.

But Watching.

Adrian Vale.

Alive.

Here.

In front of me. If it wasn't because of the dire circumstances, I probably would've fanboyed so hard for my bias. But for now that will have to wait or better yet keep it locked down.

Step five:

Don’t let him die.

Not this time.

“…you’re staring,” he said quietly.

I blinked. Then scoffed under my breath, shifting my focus back to the wound like nothing happened.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Because you’re making my job harder.”

A lie. A weak one. But it worked. For now. I adjusted my grip again—steadying him without thinking, fingers brushing briefly against his side—

And again—

That stillness. That pause. That reaction. Strange. I didn’t question it. Didn’t notice it for what it was.

Didn’t realize—

That every time I touched him like that—

Something in him was starting to unravel.