Second Life Or Second Death?

The nurse's breath hitched as she stared in disbelief at the figure who had just collapsed onto the cold, sterile floor of the academy's hospital room. Her hands trembled slightly, her mind racing.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

A creeping sense of unease slithered up her spine as she glanced at the half-empty syringe still clutched between her fingers. The Hemofade Serum—a potent, nearly undetectable medical-grade suppressant known to induce heart failure within minutes. A slow, painless death, clinically indistinguishable from a body shutting down due to extreme weakness. That's what she had injected him with. Twice.

She had done everything correctly, hadn't she?

Then why did she suddenly feel a pang of regret?

The thought barely had time to settle before another, stronger voice in her head crushed it. No. She hadn't done anything wrong. If anything, she had done this miserable fool a favor.

Her gaze darted down to the unconscious boy sprawled across the floor—Leo Ashborne.

For the past two weeks, this pathetic excuse for a student had collapsed more times than she could count. Every single day, someone dragged him in here, passed out and barely breathing. It was as if his entire existence revolved around fainting and being rushed to the infirmary. And she was always the one assigned to assist in his treatment. At this point, she was sick of seeing his face, sick of having to waste resources on him, sick of the endless routine of treating a boy who seemed more dead than alive.

Honestly, how could someone be this weak? It was ridiculous. If he was so sickly, why the hell was he even in this academy? The Imperial Arcane academy was a place for the strong—mages, warriors, scholars of immense talent. And yet, this walking corpse was somehow enrolled? It was a joke. A disgrace.

The rumors about him only fueled her irritation. She had overheard the gossip from other students and staff—how this weakling was practically useless. He couldn't even cast spells properly, had the lowest possible cultivation level, and on top of all that, he was supposedly bratty and arrogant. It was laughable.

The only thing he had going for him was his face.

And yet…

It was such a waste.

His face—ugh, his stupidly handsome face. This was probably the only good thing about him. What a shame. That kind of beauty, wasted on someone so useless.

She sighed, crouching beside him. Even in this pathetic state, there was no denying that Leo Ashborne was stunningly handsome—high cheekbones, sharp features, delicate yet undeniably captivating.

But what a waste. A beautiful corpse was still a corpse.

She exhaled sharply, pushing down the lingering unease clawing at her chest.

She hadn't done anything wrong.

Not really.

It wasn't like she had planned to kill him.

But when those students had barged in earlier, carrying his unconscious body and claiming that he'd fainted—again—her patience had finally snapped.

The academy hospital had been understaffed for weeks, because the academy's hospital staff had all been dispatched to tend to the empire's strongest soldiers—men who actually mattered. The recent war skirmishes had left the empire in dire need of healers, and the academy had volunteered its medical personnel to assist. Today, she was the only one left on duty. And the moment she had decided to take a break, this weakling had been dragged in yet again.

It was infuriating.

At this rate, he'd just keep coming back every single day, wasting time, wasting medicine, wasting effort. Wouldn't it be kinder—easier—to just end his suffering? A peaceful death. No more pain. No more being a burden.

The more she thought of it the more it made sense.

Ending his suffering was the best thing she could do for both of them.

He was already knocking on death's door. It would only take a slight push to let him through. The academy wouldn't care, nor would the hospital staff. Once they returned, she could simply claim that he had already been too far gone when he arrived. A fragile body like his... no one would question it.

And so, she had done it.

With that reasoning, she had injected him with two full doses of Hemofade Serum straight into his veins. Enough to stop the heart of even a healthy individual within minutes.

She had administered two full doses. Just to be sure, she had been about to give the final half-dose when—

He woke up.

That shouldn't have been possible.

Her blood had run cold when his glassy eyes had flickered open, locking onto her with a sharp, unreadable intensity.

There was nothing in his expression, yet somehow, that single glance had pierced through her like a dagger. It was a look that sent a primal shiver of fear crawling beneath her skin. A look that shouldn't have been possible from someone on the brink of death.

It wasn't the look of a dying man—it was something else entirely.

Something inhuman.

She swallowed.

That gaze… was it just her imagination?

He's dead.

Right?

A wave of relief washed over her. The unease she had felt moments ago slowly ebbed away, replaced by a cold sense of triumph. There. It was done. She had nothing to worry about.

She straightened up, rolling back her shoulders. She just had to leave him here. His heart would stop within minutes, and by the time anyone found him, he'd already be beyond saving. No mess, no questions.

But then—

She hesitated.

An icy dread curled in her gut.

What if… he did die? And then came back? As a ghost! Or a vengeful spirit!

Her mind flickered back to that unnatural, piercing stare. It was absurd—irrational even—but the thought lodged itself deep within her chest. What if he hunted her?

Her hands began to shake.

No. No, that was ridiculous. Ghosts weren't real. The dead stayed dead.

But what if he wasn't dead yet?

Before she could stop herself, she found herself grabbing his limp body and dragging him back onto the hospital bed.

Her breath came out in ragged, frantic puffs as she tapped on the communication device strapped to her wrist.

After a few seconds, the call connected. The other end of the line was filled with chaotic noise—frantic voices, the sound of hurried footsteps. The entire medical team was swamped tending to the empire's wounded warriors.

A slightly aged voice finally cut through the commotion.

"Hello?"

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to sound professional. "Sir, a student was rushed in and seems to be in a critical condition."

The doctor on the other end exhaled in exasperation. "You know we're busy here! Can't you handle it?"

She bit her lip. She had to word this carefully. "No… I can. It's just that—he's likely not going to make it."

Silence.

Then a frustrated sigh. "Have you informed the academy's head? And which patient is it?"

The nurse hesitated, quickly turning to check the admission record, scanning for his full name. She knew his first name, but not his last.

After a moment, she found it.

"No, I haven't reported to the academy yet. I wanted to inform you first. His name is… Leo Ashborne."

The silence that followed was deafening.

And then—

"Lord Ashborne?"

The doctor's voice had changed completely. Gone was the tired indifference. In its place was panic.

Her heart plummeted.

Why… why did he sound like that?

"Why didn't you contact me sooner?" the doctor demanded, his tone sharp with urgency.

Something was very, very wrong.

The nurse felt her stomach twist as the weight of her actions hit her.

She wasn't stupid.

The only reason for such a drastic change in reaction was if this weakling—this idiot—was far more important than she had ever realized.

A suffocating weight settled onto her chest as she stiffened, gripping the edge of the hospital bed.

She had made a terrible mistake.

And then the doctor's next words confirmed her worst fears.

"Can you hear me?" his voice was low, almost a whisper, but filled with dread. "If anything happens to him, we're in deep trouble."