My eyes opened.
The first thing I noticed was that I could see.
That alone was strange, because the last thing I remembered involved snow, blood, and a very final kind of darkness. So seeing—clearly—felt wrong.
My vision sharpened slowly, the blur pulling back until the world snapped into focus.
I jerked upright.
"What the hell is happening?" I blurted out.
My heart was racing. I patted my chest quickly, half-expecting to feel blood or pain or at least a hole where a bullet had definitely gone through me.
Nothing.
No pain. No wound. No dramatic dying sensation.
"I should be dead," I muttered. "I am very sure I died."
Was I dreaming?
That had to be it. This had to be one of those weird dreams your brain gives you when it doesn't know what to do anymore.
To confirm, I pinched my cheek.
Hard.
"…Nothing," I said flatly.
No pain. No sting. Just skin.
Okay. Bad sign.
I looked around again, slower this time, trying to take everything in. White walls. A clean room. Sunlight spilling through a window. Everything looked too normal to be an afterlife—but also too calm to be real.
My gaze drifted to the glass of the window.
And then I froze.
My reflection stared back at me.
That… was not my face.
I leaned closer, squinting. The girl in the glass did the same. Smaller face. Softer features. Clear skin. No signs of stress, exhaustion, or betrayal carved into her expression.
"…Huh," I said.
I looked younger.
A lot younger.
"If I had to guess," I murmured, tilting my head, "I'd say… fifteen?"
I stared at myself for a long moment, waiting for the reflection to change back. It didn't.
Just as I was starting to seriously question my sanity, something caught my attention above me.
I looked up.
And screamed internally.
I was seeing through the ceiling.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
The ceiling was there—but I could see past it, like it wasn't solid at all. Above me was another room.
And in that room…
Skeletons.
Three of them.
One skeleton lay flat on a bed, completely still.
"Okay," I whispered. "That one is sleeping."
I nodded to myself, satisfied with that explanation.
The other two skeletons were sitting nearby, facing the skeleton on the bed like they were… waiting.
Watching.
"Wow," I said quietly. "This afterlife is really creative."
My heart didn't even beat faster. I felt oddly calm about the fact that I was casually observing skeletons through a ceiling.
"Alright," I continued thoughtfully. "So this is definitely a dream."
Or the afterlife.
Probably the afterlife.
That would explain why I looked young again. People always say you return to your best version, right? And fifteen was… decent. Life hadn't completely ruined me yet.
"If this is the afterlife," I mused, "where are the devils and angels?"
I looked around expectantly.
Nothing.
No fire. No wings. No dramatic light beams.
"I was really good in life," I added seriously. "Sure, life was unfair to me, but I was still good."
So logically, I should be in Heaven.
Which meant—
"Oh," I said, nodding. "This must be Heaven."
That explained the cleanliness.
Just then, the door opened.
A woman walked in.
She was wearing a white lab coat with a name tag pinned to it. Her hair was long and black, falling neatly down her back. Her lips were… red.
Lipstick?
I wasn't sure. I didn't really know much about makeup. I'd never been good at it.
She looked at me.
I smiled immediately.
Because obviously.
"This must be Heaven," I thought happily. "And she's an angel."
Sure, she looked like a doctor, but she was wearing white. Angels wear white. That checked out.
I smiled wider, showing my teeth.
I half-expected wings to unfold from her back.
They didn't.
She just stared at me.
Strangely.
I couldn't explain it, but the look she gave me felt… off. Confused. Almost cautious.
"Well," I thought, "of course I can't understand angel expressions. They're angels."
I kept smiling.
Very sincerely.
"I've been good," I told her silently. "Life was unfair, but I endured it."
So naturally, Doctor Angel would now pick me up and carry me to Heaven properly. Maybe there would be clouds next. Or harps.
She looked down at the board in her hands.
Then back at me.
Then back at the board.
Then at me again.
She did this several times.
"Huh," I thought. "Angels are thorough."
Then she walked out.
A moment later, her head popped back into the room.
She looked at my smile.
Paused.
Pulled her head back out.
"…Okay," I muttered. "That's new."
She did it again.
Peeked in.
Looked at me.
Looked uncomfortable.
Pulled back out.
"Am I not smiling right?" I wondered.
Don't ask how I know, but I had an adorable smile. I was a kid. It was practically guaranteed.
Finally, she stepped fully back into the room.
I straightened slightly, bracing myself.
"I was expecting," I thought seriously, "a melodic voice. Harmony. Maybe several voices talking at once."
That's how angels spoke, right?
Instead, what came out was—
"Are you Olivia Moon?"
It was just… a normal voice.
A young woman's voice.
Definitely not angelic.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Wait," I said slowly.
My smile faltered for the first time.
She raised an eyebrow.
And just like that, Heaven became a lot more confusing.