It felt like mere seconds had passed before the door swung open again. Davey returned, his expression tight with concern, and walking swiftly behind him was Dr. Zhao. The physician, a kind-faced woman in her mid-forties, exuded a gentle confidence that seemed to momentarily soothe the tension in the air. Her lab coat swished softly around her knees, stethoscope slung loosely around her neck, and her brows knitted together in professional focus as she approached the bed.
"Shan," she said, her voice soft but direct. "What is it? Is everything alright? Are you in pain? Is the baby…?" She paused, her words trailing into silence as the most pressing concern—unspoken yet clearly felt—hung between them.
Baby.
That single word struck Hana with the force of a tidal wave. Her breath caught in her throat. Her thoughts, already fraying at the edges since she awoke in this strange new world, tangled even further. Pregnant. She was actually pregnant. Trapped inside a fictional world she'd only read about—a manga set in an Omegaverse no less—and carrying a child in the body of a male Omega.
The reality settled into her bones, cold and inescapable. She wasn't just a visitor in this world. She had a role, a body, a life... and now a baby. There was no quick escape, no easy fix. She could no longer pretend this was a dream she'd wake from. There was a life growing inside her, dependent on her. Escape now meant abandoning that life. Survival, she realized bitterly, meant playing the part fate had forced upon her—she had to become Shan Luan.
But becoming Shan Luan wasn't a simple task. In the manga, Shan had been impulsive, emotionally unstable, and sometimes dangerously self-destructive. Hana remembered reading with unease the moments where the character teetered on the edge of desperation—borderline suicidal during his most vulnerable scenes. How was she, Hana, supposed to embody that chaos? Could she convincingly portray someone so tormented?
Or perhaps… she didn't have to. Maybe this was where she could deviate.
She took a breath, centering herself. Her voice, when it emerged, was trembling but measured. "Doctor," she began, eyes not quite meeting Dr. Zhao's, "actually… I was just a little worried. About the baby."
Her hand moved hesitantly to rest over her abdomen, which still felt foreign and wrong beneath her touch—rounded, yet barely perceptible through her clothing. The dissonance between what she saw and what she felt was jarring. "Just wanted to make sure everything is okay. Another check-up would be reassuring."
Dr. Zhao's eyes widened slightly, surprise evident in her expression. But there was something else too—something that looked almost like relief.
"You were worried?" she repeated softly, as if testing the word. "That's… good. It's just that—well, just a few days ago, you were considering termination. You seemed… quite certain about it."
Hana froze. Of course. That matched what the manga had hinted at: Shan's reluctance about the pregnancy, his overwhelming fear, and the desire to run away from it all. Maybe Shan had intended to disappear completely, to abandon everything—his life, the child, even himself. It made sense in the context of his emotional instability. It fit the character perfectly.
A tense silence fell over the room. Davey hovered nearby, clearly uncertain whether to speak or wait. Dr. Zhao's concern lingered, but she didn't press. She waited patiently, allowing Hana to make her own decision.
And Hana did.
With a steadier voice than before, she raised her chin and met the doctor's eyes. "I've changed my mind," she said firmly. "I want to keep the child. I'm not going to terminate."
Dr. Zhao blinked. The lines of worry on her face slowly relaxed, replaced by something warmer and more tender.
"That's… that's wonderful news, Shan," she said at last, her voice full of genuine emotion. "As a doctor, I must say I'm relieved. And I promise we'll take the best care of you both."
With that, she moved into action, her tone shifting into professional warmth as she began explaining the steps for prenatal care. She spoke of vitamins, rest schedules, balanced meals, hydration, emotional support, and necessary medical checkups. The list was long, but Hana absorbed it all with quiet focus.
Davey remained by her side throughout, his hand occasionally brushing her arm in quiet encouragement. He said little, but his presence spoke volumes—steadiness in a world where nothing else made sense.
Once Dr. Zhao concluded and gave her a reassuring nod, she gathered her things and left the room, her clipboard tucked under her arm. Davey lingered for a moment longer.
"That's really good, Shan," he murmured, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. His eyes softened. "Really good."
Then he too slipped out, leaving Hana alone once more.
Alone… with the reality.
She sat still for a long time, her hands resting lightly on her belly. Pregnant. Male. Omega. There was no waking up, no magical reversal. Her old life—Hana's life—was gone. Perhaps permanently.
She stood slowly and walked toward the mirror on the side table. Its surface was slightly dusty, the edges worn, but her reflection was sharp and clear. She traced her jawline, feeling its unfamiliar angles, harder than her own had ever been. Her fingers brushed over her right cheek and paused.
The mole.
A small, near-invisible mark just beneath her cheekbone. She remembered it vividly now. In the manga, it was this mole that Kang Jin-ho—Shan's Alpha, and the male lead—had fixated on, even during the confusion of his rut. That mole had been his anchor, his recognition point.
A thought surged into her mind, clear and electric: What if she removed the mole?
Could she break the story? Could she alter the path scripted for Shan and Kang?
Hope, fragile but persistent, bloomed within her chest.
She turned back to the drawer, fingers trembling slightly as she pulled it open. Inside lay a small makeup compact—something she hadn't noticed earlier. Clearly Shan Luan had owned it. A little palette of concealer and foundation, its edges smudged with fingerprints.
Her hands moved with surprising calm. Dabbing the brush into the concealer, she began blending it carefully over the mole. She layered the product skillfully, then smoothed it with the foundation. The result was subtle, nearly imperceptible—unless one knew to look for the mole, it was gone.
She stared at her reflection again. A small change. Almost nothing. And yet… somehow, she looked like someone else.
"Shan Luan," she whispered, testing the name aloud. Her voice didn't falter this time. "From today… you are Shan Luan."
The words struck her with sudden weight. This wasn't just a disguise. It was a commitment.
And yet, as she stared at her reflection, another thought surfaced. Maybe she didn't have to live out Shan Luan's fate exactly. Maybe she didn't have to fall into despair or throw herself headlong into ruinous love. Maybe she could change Shan's path, redefine who Shan Luan was.
"I'll decorate it my way," she said, a whisper laced with defiance. Her fingers tightened around the compact. "Hana's story ends here. Shan Luan's story begins."
Taking one final breath to steady herself, she turned from the mirror and gathered herself.
There was no time to waste.
She stepped out of the small room, feeling the coolness of the hallway brush against her skin. The world outside the room was unfamiliar—narrow corridors, polished floors, and quiet voices drifting from distant rooms—but she walked with her back straight, head high.
She would meet this world not as a puppet on invisible strings, but as someone writing her own chapters.
Her mind turned to Kang Jin-ho.
His name alone conjured a storm of emotion. In the manga, he had been intense, powerful, and unpredictable. His relationship with Shan Luan had been fraught with misunderstandings, sharp arguments, volatile emotions, and yet—moments of unbearable tenderness. It had been a love story twisted by fate and biology, intensified by the nature of ruts and heats, and complicated by memory and desire.
Hana knew the timeline. Kang Jin-ho's rut was approaching.
If she didn't tread carefully, things would spiral quickly. A rut-induced Alpha was dangerous—possessive, aggressive, deeply driven by instinct. In the manga, Shan had been unable to resist Jin-ho. But Hana didn't have to repeat that.
She could plan. Prepare. Stay away if needed.
She needed to rewrite the dynamics—slow things down, change the way they interacted, redirect their collision course before it began.
She whispered the name again—Shan Luan—this time not just as a declaration, but as a vow. She would protect this life growing inside her. She would survive. And she would not be bound to a script she didn't write.
No matter what the original story had planned.