After spending some time by the patient's side, the medical team realized there was nothing more to do for now. Satisfied that he wasn't in immediate danger of dying again, they left the room.
He was transferred from surgery to intensive care, where family members were allowed to visit. But since none of his relatives had come forward to see him, the hospital granted permission for his friends—the ones who had found him in that condition at his home—to quietly sit by his bedside.
His friends were utterly drained from the emotional rollercoaster of the day. Finding their friend lying in a pool of blood, then witnessing his death—only to see him miraculously, yet inexplicably, come back to life—had left them exhausted. They sat on either side of his hospital bed, slowly slipping into sleep, when he weakly cracked his eyes open. Quickly scanning the room, he found nothing better to say than:
"Hey."
His friends jolted upright in their chairs, startled.
"Quiet," he murmured, barely moving his lips, glancing around cautiously.
"How do you feel?" they asked, leaning forward.
"Sit down. Act normal." He smirked slightly. "Surprisingly good," he said, sounding far more alert than expected.
The wounds on his arms and legs burned like paper cuts, sharp but oddly manageable. His hands didn't fully obey him—he had likely damaged his tendons, and they would need more time to heal. But something else felt… different. The ever-present gray haze that had clouded his world for as long as he could remember had lifted. The world seemed a little closer, a little brighter. It didn't change his outlook on life—not instantly, at least—but something had shifted. His mind felt sharper, hungrier, greedily absorbing sensations that had once been out of reach.
"We thought it was just talk," Steve said, his voice laced with guilt. "We never thought you'd actually go through with it… If I had known you felt that bad—"
"And what would you have done?" Leo cut in, his tone tinged with irony. "It was my choice, and I can't say I regret it."
"But you died," Emily whispered urgently. "We thought we'd never see you again!"
"And yet, here I am," he said, pausing for a moment before adding, "Now, we need to get out of here."
His friends stared at him in shock.
"I have so much to tell you—you won't believe what I saw. But I don't have insurance, and before they figure that out, we need to slip out of here quietly."
They quickly huddled together, whispering about how to pull off Leo's escape without the hospital staff noticing right away.
Behind the nearby privacy screen lay an old man—either asleep or unconscious. Without hesitation, they attached Leo's pulse sensor to the man's hand, ensuring the monitors wouldn't immediately trigger an alarm.
Then, they each draped a piece of their clothing over Leo to help him blend in.
"We're on the first floor," Steve said, glancing toward the hallway. "Theoretically, we could slip into the restroom and climb out the window from there. But can you manage that in your condition?"
"I can," Leo said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Not that it mattered much to him. If his wounds reopened and he started bleeding again, so be it. Even if, for some reason, the world now seemed a little clearer, a little more vivid, it wasn't enough to erase everything he had been through in just one moment.
The night shift was settling in, and the hospital had noticeably fewer staff on duty than during the day. Half of the ceiling lights had been dimmed to avoid disturbing the sleeping patients. The nurses' station was located at the far end of the hallway, away from their room, while the restroom was just around the corner in another wing—conveniently close to the exit.
They waited by the door, scanning the corridor. The moment it was clear, they moved.
Leo stepped out first, draped in his friend's long coat, which concealed the bloodstained hospital gown. Steve walked beside him, and together they adopted a casual, unhurried pace. Leo limped slightly on both legs, making his movements look natural yet unremarkable.
They walked along the wall, heading toward the turn in the hallway.
Once they were out of sight, they picked up the pace, heading straight for the men's restroom in the center of the wing.
There was no nurse's station here—this area was reserved for non-urgent patients, who were expected to seek help on their own if needed. That meant fewer eyes watching, making their plan all the more possible.
They were lucky—not a single soul crossed their path as they made it to the restroom.
The window was small. Anyone trying to squeeze through would have to crawl, and even then, only if they were in good shape.
"I'll give you a boost and push you through," Steve suggested. "Emily and I can just walk out the front like regular visitors."
They cracked the window open and peered outside. A gust of cool night air hit their faces.
Directly below, a large dumpster sat filled with trash bags.
Leo shot Steve a sarcastic, almost accusatory look.
Steve just shrugged innocently. "You got a better idea?"
There was no time to argue, and definitely no time for a better plan.
"Try to land on your back," Steve advised with a smirk. "You don't want your wounds tearing open and bleeding out in a dumpster, do you?"
Leo groaned. "Great. Just the exit I deserve."
With a strained grunt, Steve hoisted him up.
Leo struggled—his arms were still weak, tendons barely responding. His sleeves darkened with fresh blood as he fought to pull himself through.
Then, with an awkward lurch, he tumbled over the edge and out of the window, falling like a sack of bricks straight into the pile of trash below.
The impact knocked the wind out of him, but at least he hadn't broken anything.
He lay there for a moment, staring at the night sky, catching his breath.
"Smooth landing," Steve called down with a chuckle.
"I'm fine," Leo muttered, muffled by the trash bags around him.
Steve took a quick glance to make sure his friend hadn't broken his neck, then silently pulled the restroom window shut. He cracked the door open, checked the hallway, and, seeing no one, slipped out.
The rest of the plan went off without a hitch.
Walking casually, neither he nor Emily raised any suspicion as they strolled past the nurses' station. They gave a polite nod on their way out, then, as soon as they were a safe distance from the entrance, they sprinted around the building, searching for the dumpster where they'd left their freshly resurrected friend.
It didn't take long to find him.
They hauled Leo out from under the garbage bags, brushing off what little dignity he had left, and made sure he was still in one piece.
The streets were nearly empty, save for a few stray wanderers. It was late—too late to wait for public transportation, and drawing attention was the last thing they wanted.
So they called a cab.
As soon as it pulled up, they bundled Leo into the backseat and sped off toward his place.
Despite his weak protests, they decided to stay the night.
None of them trusted him to be alone—not after everything that had happened. Whether he might try something reckless again or simply bleed out in his sleep, neither was a risk they were willing to take.
Fortunately, his friends weren't picky and had no problem crashing on the floor, using the carpet as their makeshift bed.
Leo, drained and weakened from the blood loss, still looked deathly pale. The moment his body hit the mattress—since he didn't even own a proper bed—he slipped into unconsciousness.
His dreams took him deep into a dark forest, wandering aimlessly between towering trees. Shadows stretched endlessly around him, until, in the distance, he noticed a source of light.
It moved—not like an ordinary glow, but with purpose, as if it were alive.
First, he walked toward it. Then, breaking into a run, he closed the distance.
As he neared, the realization struck him—this was the same glowing entity he had seen back in the hospital. The one that had been there when he was dead.
I never even got the chance to tell them what I experienced, he thought.
He made a mental note to do just that when he woke up.
The creature came to a halt, and as Leo drew closer, its glowing form gradually took shape.
It was undeniably feminine.
Narrow shoulders tapered into a slender waist, accentuated by wide, curving hips. From a distance, it seemed as though her legs ended in either animal-like paws or impossibly high heels.
Long, voluminous hair cascaded down her back, partially obscuring two tall, pointed ears—wolf-like, yet slightly longer than usual.
But what caught his attention most was the tail.
It was massive, stretching nearly one and a half times her own height. Thick at the base—almost as wide as one of her legs—it tapered into a sleek, elongated form before flaring out into a large, rounded shape at the tip.
As he stepped even closer, the glow surrounding her faded, revealing every intricate detail of her body.
And then—
A disappointed, almost annoyed voice rang out:
"Dafuq, you are a boy after all."
It was as if something had pushed him, and he suddenly sat up on his mattress, breathing heavily. Still in a haze, not fully understanding where he was, Leo tried to recall and comprehend the details of his dream. He was certain that the creature he had seen in his dream was the same one he had encountered in the hospital. He also had no doubt that it possessed its own consciousness and that his dream wasn't entirely his own.
Looking around—it was still dark, and his friends were sprawled chaotically across the floor, fast asleep. Feeling thirsty, he quietly got up, hissing in pain from the wound on his leg. Carefully stepping between his friends, he made his way to what he called the kitchen.
It was a small space, separated from the main and only room by a thin wall without a door. Positioned perpendicularly to the main area, it consisted of a sink and a stove, with old cabinets above them.
Feeling around, he found a glass and filled it with water from the nearby filter. Leo brought the glass to his lips, preparing to take a sip.
— "Hello, fuckwad," a half-irritated, half-mocking voice sounded from behind.
The suddenness of it made him spit out his water and whip around 180 degrees, a sharp pain once again stabbing through his leg.
Sitting on the small kitchen table was the creature from his dream. This time, it wasn't glowing, but instead gleamed, reflecting everything around it as if it were made of latex. He could even swear he caught its scent.
It sat there casually, leaning on one arm. It wore a black top that accentuated the curves of its figure and thin, short shorts. Its enormous tail trailed down from the table, looping in a wide arc across almost the entire kitchen before curling back, its massive tip resting once more on its knees. Her graceful, long legs ended in elegant paws, as if wrapped in stockings, forming a seamless, toeless shape. Her yellow-and-white muzzle resembled that of a lynx but was slightly longer, crowned with two long, wolf-like ears - black on the outside and white on the inside.. Her thick black hair cascaded down past her waist. Her body was a pleasant yellow color, with white descending from her muzzle down to her chest and stomach, curving somewhere downward, wrapping around her firm backside. Most of the length of her tail, arms, and legs was black, with delicate white highlights on her graceful, feminine palms and soles of her feet. He also managed to notice her long yellow tongue and deep eyes that seemed to shimmer with a bright yellow light from within, a deeper shade of yellow transitioning into orange.
She leapt off the table with a swift, feminine grace, her long limbs and animalistic features giving her an air of effortless elegance. She landed silently, not making a single sound. It was unusual for a creature with such a massive tail.
— So that's who I saved back then.
— Excuse me?
— I forgive you, — she said mockingly. — Back then, in what you call a hospital, you saw me. I know you did.
He quickly glanced through the doorway to check if his friends had woken up, but they were still fast asleep. It seemed like only he could see and hear her, just like in the hospital.
— What was that back there? And why did you save me?
— First of all, let's drop the formalities, weirdo. And second, those were Hellhounds or lesser demons. What was inside you was a lesser demon. They feed on human souls—they need energy to keep Hell running, as well as fresh souls for eternal torment. Sooner or later, their feast always ends the same way: with the host's suicide.
Her voice was youthful, melodic, and soft, though the clear notes of sarcasm gave it a sharp, ringing quality whenever she was particularly amused.
— But how did it get inside me? I don't remember anything unusual happening in my life.
— You wouldn't. For them to take root, they need empty space—both in the soul and the mind. You probably had a near-death experience at some point or spent a long time in a coma. During moments like that, part of the soul begins its transition, and part of the brain dies or erases itself. That's when they slip in and take over that empty space.
She smirked.
— Just like I did after it was gone.
Noticing the unspoken question in his eyes, she added,
— Don't worry, I'm not a demon, and I have no intention of killing you. Quite the opposite, actually—I'm a spirit that fights them. But to do that, I need a host from your world.
— Unfortunately, that host turned out to be you, — she said thoughtfully, with a hint of disappointment.
— Why "unfortunately"?
— Because I've always inhabited women. As you might have noticed, I'm a girl myself. But guys… just look at yourself—you're crude, simple-minded, and primitive. Unfortunately, we're stuck together now until you die again.
— But you fought the demon back in the hospital—without my body?
— That's because you were already dead, and the demon wasn't anchored to anything in this world. It was a battle of spirit against spirit. As long as they have hosts, I need someone from this world to fight them.
She gave a sly smile.
— You're gonna love this.
— What do you mean?!
— To banish a demon from this world, I need to perform a ritual in this world. And I also need to physically knock it out. In other words, I need you—or more precisely, your body. We have to become one.
— Wait, — he stammered, fear creeping into his voice. — You can take control of my body?!
— Yup, — she said, grinning innocently.
Not expecting such a casual answer, he instinctively slapped himself across the face.
She burst into laughter.
— But that's not all. To interact with beings from beyond this world, you'll have to take my form. We'll become one.