Chapter 19: How Many Litres Of Blood Does A Human Have?
The hospital room was stark and sterile, its white walls and floor bathed in the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. A faint antiseptic tang hung in the air, mingling with the soft hum of medical equipment tucked against the wall.
Mika sat on the edge of a hospital bed in a private room, his posture slouched, leaning back against the propped-up pillow with a weary look etched across his face. His dark hair was slightly mussed, and his clean uniform, freshly scrubbed by Mulkorr’s acidic embrace, felt out of place amidst the clinical setting.
He’d endured a battery of scans and tests at Charlotte’s insistence, despite his protests, and the exhaustion of humoring her was plain in his half-lidded eyes.
His arms rested loosely at his sides, one hand dangling over the bed’s edge, the other being gently held by a young female doctor who stood beside him, her fingers pressed lightly against his wrist to check his pulse.
The doctor, a woman in her late twenties with neatly tied brown hair and a crisp white coat, moved with practiced precision, but her face betrayed a stark contrast to her professional demeanor.
Her skin was pale, almost ghostly, and a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. Her eyes darted nervously, flickering toward the corner of the room every few seconds, as if drawn by an unseen threat.
The source of her fear was unmistakable.
Charlotte...perched on a chair in the room’s corner, her cross-legged pose deceptively casual. Her pink hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light, and her smile was bright, almost radiant, but her half-closed blue eyes simmered with a venomous intensity. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze locked on the doctor’s hand where it touched Mika’s, her expression a thin veneer over barely restrained jealousy.
Charlotte’s silence was louder than any shout, her stare a blade that pinned the doctor in place. But Mika, for his part, seemed oblivious to the brewing storm, his tired gaze fixed on the ceiling, one leg bouncing idly as he waited for the ordeal to end.
But Charlotte’s patience finally frayed, and she broke the silence with a single word, her voice sweet but laced with an edge that cut through the room like a whip.
"Hey..." she called, her smile unwavering, though her eyes narrowed further.
The doctor flinched, her head snapping toward Charlotte, her fingers tightening reflexively on Mika’s wrist. She knew exactly who Charlotte was—one of the daughters of the five goddesses, a being whose power and presence commanded awe and fear in equal measure.