2025-10-22 15:39:25Charlie stared at the business card with trembling hands. "Miracle Doctor… Linda Sarman?" he muttered under his breath. That woman… she couldn’t have known about Nancy’s mother by coincidence. Could she really be who she claimed?
He pulled out his phone with what little energy he had left and dialed the number on the card.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then a calm, assertive voice answered, “Charlie?”
It shocked him that she already knew his name. “I… I need help,” he whispered hoarsely.
“I know. I’m already on my way,” Linda replied, her voice firm. “Don’t let anyone draw another drop of your blood.”
The line went dead before Charlie could even respond.
Charlie tucked the phone under the pillow just as footsteps echoed outside the hallway. Carl’s voice drifted in first—low, urgent, and laced with impatience.
“I don’t care if the real miracle doctor’s impossible to find,” Carl snapped. “Just get me someone. Anyone. Put a lab coat on a half-decent actor and call him the best doctor in the country. Nancy doesn’t know any better.”
The man on the other end of the line said something indistinct, but Charlie heard the frustration in Carl’s reply. “We’re wasting time! My father’s been pressing me to solidify an alliance. If I can marry Nancy now—before the truth comes out—I’ll have access to her family’s entire medical network. After that, the old woman can die for all I care.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. So, all of this—the care, the support—was a lie? Carl was just using Nancy… just like Nancy used him?
The betrayal layered upon betrayal made Charlie’s stomach turn.
“I’ll handle it myself,” Carl barked. “Just make sure that fake doctor is convincing.”
Charlie involuntarily let out a small gasp.
Carl turned sharply toward the curtain separating the beds. “Who’s there?”
Charlie didn’t answer. He lay completely still, hoping Carl would think he imagined it. But his pale face and tensed frame gave him away.
Carl yanked the curtain aside, and his eyes narrowed. “So, you’re still alive?”
Charlie stared back, silent.
Carl walked closer and leaned in, lowering his voice to a hiss. “Eavesdropping is dangerous, especially for someone as useless as you. What you heard—forget it.”
Charlie didn’t flinch. In fact, despite his weakness, a strange calm washed over him. A small part of him—one long buried—was beginning to stir.
Carl smirked. “I’d warn you to keep your mouth shut, but let’s be honest—you won’t be around long enough to talk.”
Just then, the door opened. Nancy entered, holding a tray of food and sipping tea like nothing was wrong.
“Oh, look who’s still pretending to be on death’s door,” she sneered when she saw Charlie lying weakly on the bed. “Are you hoping to guilt me into keeping you around? Pathetic.”
Charlie said nothing.
Carl quickly regained his composure and smiled at Nancy. “He was just complaining that 600ml was too much. I told him he was exaggerating. After all, you said your mom’s life was at stake. What’s a little sacrifice, right?”
Nancy chuckled and placed the tray down. “Exactly. Besides, he has nothing else to offer.”
Charlie’s fingers tightened into a fist beneath the blanket.
“Anyway,” Carl said, turning toward Nancy with a practiced smile, “I spoke to one of my contacts in the medical council. They might’ve found a lead on the miracle doctor.”
Nancy’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’s amazing!”
“Well,” Carl said slowly, “he hasn’t agreed yet. But don’t worry—I’ll pull some strings.”
Nancy’s face softened. She reached out and touched Carl’s arm. “You’ve already done so much for us…”
Carl glanced sideways at Charlie and smirked. “It’s the least I can do.”
Before Nancy could respond, a nurse peeked through the door. “Excuse me. Miss Nancy? There’s a woman asking for Mr. Charlie. She says her name is… Linda Sarman.”
Nancy frowned. “Who?”
Charlie’s eyes snapped open. He sat up, wincing at the sudden movement.
Carl’s expression darkened. “Impossible. That name—”
The nurse looked confused. “She says she’s a doctor. And she insisted on speaking to him privately.”
“I’ll see her,” Charlie said, his voice raspy but steady.
Carl stepped forward. “There’s no need. If this is about your blood tests or something, I’ll handle it.”
But Charlie didn’t even look at him. “No. I’ll see her myself.”
Nancy rolled her eyes. “So dramatic…”
Moments later, the door opened, and Linda Sarman stepped in.
She wore a simple black coat, but there was something about her presence—something magnetic. Her posture was poised, her eyes sharp and intelligent.
Carl visibly tensed.
Nancy frowned, clearly unimpressed. “You’re the so-called doctor?”
Linda glanced briefly at Nancy, then Carl, before her gaze settled on Charlie. “I’m here for him. Not you.”
She walked over to Charlie and pulled a small scanner from her pocket, waving it over his wrist. A faint beep sounded.
Charlie blinked. “What’s that?”
“A reminder,” she said softly. “That you’re more than what they made you believe.”
Nancy snorted. “Please. He’s a street rat we picked up. He should be thanking us.”
Linda turned slowly. “Is that so?”
Carl stepped forward, trying to take control of the situation. “Look, I don’t know what your angle is, but this is a private matter—”
“No,” Linda cut in, “this is a national matter.”
She turned to Charlie and handed him a sealed envelope.
“Inside is your first clue. Proof of who you were—and who you still are. You’re not just some pawn in their twisted game, Charlie. You’re someone they all feared once.”
Charlie hesitated, then took the envelope.
Linda gave him a faint smile. “I’ll give you time. But be warned—more danger is coming. And when it does, you’ll need to decide whether to run… or rise.”
She turned and walked out, leaving stunned silence behind her.
Carl scowled. “What kind of circus stunt was that?”
Nancy looked confused, but also slightly uneasy.
Charlie stared down at the envelope, the seal unbroken.
Somewhere deep inside, something was awakening. And though his body was still weak, his mind was clearer than it had been in years.
For the first time in a long time… he didn’t feel like a victim. He felt like a ticking storm. And it was only just beginning.
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Chapter 142
The monument stood where the city’s old spine used to be, a stretch of polished stone and alloy rising from ground that had once been scorched black. From above, it looked clean, even hopeful. People gathered there every day. They brought flowers grown in rebuilt soil, names etched onto thin metal strips, quiet prayers spoken in languages that had nearly been erased. On the surface, it was a place of closure. A marker set down so the world could tell itself that something had ended.Beneath it, far below the reach of sunlight and ceremony, the ground told a different story.Deep under the foundation, past layers of reinforced bedrock and forgotten access tunnels, old systems still breathed. They were not loud. They did not announce themselves. A low, steady hum moved through the metal veins buried there, subtle enough to be mistaken for the planet’s own shifting weight. Power cycled carefully, sparingly, as if whatever lay below had learned patience.Cables ran through sealed corridor
Chapter 141
The monument rose from the center of the rebuilt city like a thought given shape. It did not try to impress with height or ornament. It simply stood there, steady and plain, as if it had always belonged. One half was metal, brushed and scarred, the surface dulled by heat and impact. The other half was stone, pale and rough, cut from the same bedrock that once lay buried under the city’s old foundations. The seam where the two materials met was not hidden. It was visible, uneven in places, a deliberate choice that refused to smooth over the join.Morning light slid across it slowly. As the sun climbed, the metal caught the glow first, reflecting it outward in a muted sheen. The stone followed later, warming in color, pulling the light inward instead of throwing it back. Together they formed something balanced, not symmetrical, but honest.At the base of the monument, the words were carved deep enough to last longer than memory.Freedom is the flaw that saved us.Raiden stood a few step
Chapter 140
The provisional council did not meet in a grand hall or behind polished glass. There were no banners, no speeches rehearsed to sound historic. They gathered in a converted transit terminal on the outskirts of what used to be the Skydome district, a place that still smelled faintly of smoke and salt from the sea. The roof had been repaired with mismatched panels scavenged from nearby ruins. Sunlight leaked through the seams in thin, uneven lines, falling across long tables built from old doors and cargo pallets.People arrived quietly. Some came in official vehicles. Others walked. A few limped. Many carried tablets filled with data rescued from dying servers. Some carried nothing at all except notebooks and the weight of what they had survived.This was not a meeting born from victory. It was born from exhaustion.Charlie stood near the back at first, unnoticed, watching the room fill. He recognized faces from every chapter of the war. Scientists who once argued over funding now sat b
Chapter 139
The data shard arrived without ceremony. No alarms. No dramatic announcement. It appeared the way so many things did after the war, quietly, almost apologetically, as if unsure it still belonged in a world trying to move forward.Hana found it first.She had been cataloging remnants from the Genesis archives, the fragments no one had the heart to delete and no one quite trusted enough to restore. Most were corrupted beyond use. Broken code. Half-formed neural maps. Echoes of ideas that once carried too much power. She worked alone in the lower levels of the rebuilt Skydome annex, where the lights were softer and the air still smelled faintly of burned circuitry and dust sealed into concrete.The shard did not announce itself as important. It sat in the queue like any other recovery artifact, flagged only by an anomaly marker that refused to clear. Hana frowned, fingers pausing over the interface. The system kept trying to classify the signal and failed.She leaned closer, eyes narrowi
Chapter 138
The first reports came quietly, buried in hospital intake logs and research footnotes. Doctors noticed it before governments did, before networks had time to argue over what it meant. Children born after the Collapse were not reacting the way anyone expected. The nanotech residue that still lingered in the air, the soil, even the bloodstreams of adults simply did not take hold in them. It passed through their systems like rain through open hands. No seizures. No neural interference. No signs of forced adaptation.They were healthy. Calm. Strangely steady.At first, the pattern was dismissed as coincidence. A statistical anomaly in a world still trying to stitch itself back together. But as the months passed, the numbers grew harder to ignore. Every region told the same story. Infants born after the Collapse showed a natural resistance to hybridization. Not rejection, not dominance, but balance. The machines could not claim them. Biology did not reject the technology either. It simply
Chapter 137
The first thing Raiden noticed was the quiet. Not the peaceful kind people talked about when wars ended, but the exhausted kind, the kind that settled over a place after everything had already been spent.The city that used to be called New Geneva no longer looked like a city in the old sense. The skyline was uneven, half-standing towers stitched together with scaffolding and cables. Smoke no longer rose in thick columns. Instead, thin plumes drifted lazily from cooking fires and makeshift generators. The air smelled of wet concrete, burned wiring, and something faintly organic, like soil that had been turned for the first time in years.Raiden stood at the edge of a collapsed transit hub, boots planted in a shallow pool of rainwater, watching people work. There were no uniforms anymore. No insignia. No clean lines separating sides. Just humans in layers of scavenged clothing, sleeves rolled up, hands dirty.Some of them still carried the subtle signs of Eden’s touch. A faint metallic
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