Chapter 20 — Silence in the Operating Room
The sky was overcast as Lumina walked along the moss-covered sidewalk. The air smelled of metal and antiseptic — signs that she was getting closer.
The card appeared again. It floated slowly, then stuck to the back of a man in a white uniform. One word was written on it: Impostor.
Lumina followed him silently. The man entered a small, faded building labeled Free Public Clinic. But her heart knew — nothing is ever truly free when a soul has rotted.
Inside, the waiting room was full. Mothers with children, old men, and a trembling teenager sat in silence. The "doctor" walked into his room with his head held high.
Lumina took a seat. And waited.
A few minutes later, a small child exited, holding back tears, his hand wrapped hastily in bandages. His mother looked down, too afraid to speak.
When the next patient was called, Lumina stood up.
"Excuse me, may I go in?" Her voice was soft but firm.
The man looked her over, scanning from head to toe.
"This isn't a place to play."
"I know."
Without waiting for permission, Lumina stepped inside and closed the door.
The room was dark and suffocating. It reeked of old blood that never healed. There were worn-out straps on the patient chair. In the corner, rusty surgical tools gleamed dully.
"Do you know who I am?" Lumina asked.
The doctor chuckled. "You're from some health foundation, right? Plenty have tried to shut this place down."
Lumina said nothing. She walked over to the desk cluttered with fake records and forged IDs.
"Your first patient died three years ago from counterfeit anesthesia. Two others lost their organs. You sold them all."
The man gripped the desk tightly. "Who are you?"
"I don't punish you. I just make you feel what you should have."
A thin red thread glowed from Lumina's hand. The room dimmed.
In an instant, the "doctor" was strapped to the chair — not physically, but his soul was bound. His eyes opened wide. He saw every one of his patients. The ones who cried. The ones who died. The ones who begged for help.
Then... he became the patient.
His body was dissected alive — not with real pain, but with trauma. Still, it felt real. He tried to scream, but his voice was swallowed in a silent dimension.
Lumina stood beside him. Watching. Silent.
"Why... are you doing this to me?" he gasped.
"So you'll understand pain isn't just in the flesh. It's memory.
And you must carry it. Until your soul can no longer run."
A single thread of light pierced the man's heart. He fell silent.
Slowly, his astral body dissolved into black mist. Outside, the wind whispered gently. The clinic looked unchanged. But one room — forever empty.
Lumina stepped outside.
On the sidewalk, a small child looked up at her. The wound on his hand still fresh. Lumina knelt down and gently touched it.
"It's okay now," she said.
"He won't hurt anyone anymore."