The woman my husband never got over and I were rushed to the hospital after the same car accident.

The hospital's plasma supply was dangerously low. To get her into surgery as quickly as possible, my husband, Maxwell Gallagher, chose to draw my blood.

What he did not know was that I had hemophilia.

That single decision drained the life from me. My body failed first. My heart followed, quietly and completely.

"Once Josie is stable, I'll make it up to you," he said, forcing the promise through clenched resolve.

I smiled faintly as I listened. By then, everything inside me was already dead.

Just as my existence was about to be erased, the Neural Outcome Determination Engine took my place and returned to my body.

I thought Maxwell would never realize the truth.

But the moment he looked into "my" eyes, he broke down completely.

The red on the pavement looked too bright to be real.

People crowded in from every direction, a dark, shifting mass. Noise rolled in waves. Some shouted. Some sobbed. My stomach churned, and a hard dizziness pressed behind my eyes.

In the middle of it all lay Josephine Elwood, the woman Maxwell Gallagher never got over.

She was sprawled in a pool of blood. One of her hands bent the wrong way, twisted at an angle that tightened my throat. Thick blood spread beneath her.

I looked down at myself. It should have been nothing. Scrapes, maybe a cut or two. The kind of injuries that stung and then healed.

But the blood did not stop. It poured from my wounds in steady streams, warm as it ran. My skin went cold anyway as the world tilted. Years of anemia caught up with me in one brutal second. My vision narrowed, then snapped to black.

I went under.

Voices drifted in and out, muffled and distant. I could not move. My eyelids felt as though weights had been sewn into them.

Somewhere close, I heard Maxwell.

Another voice followed, tight with tension. "Dr. Gallagher, the bus and the truck collided at the bridge entrance. These are the patients brought in for emergency treatment. The way this woman is bleeding is strange."

I tried to open my eyes. I pushed until my temples ached. Nothing happened.

Still, I felt him near me. The air shifted when he moved, a rush of motion charged with urgency.

"Push both of them into the OR," Maxwell said, crisp and controlled. "They are both Rh-negative."

Someone answered hesitantly, "Dr. Gallagher, the hospital does not have enough plasma for surgery. The blood bank can send more, but it will take time."

A pause followed. Papers rustled.

The same voice carefully continued, "Miss Josephine Elwood appears more seriously injured. But Ms. Cassandra Vesper's superficial wounds will not stop bleeding, and she has already lost consciousness."

I recognized that voice. It was Dr. Simon Quinn, his partner.

"You want us to treat Ms. Vesper first and wait for the plasma before surgery?" Simon asked.

Maxwell drew in a tight breath. I heard his teeth grind.

"Time does not wait," he said. "Delay could cause complications."

Then he spoke the words that cut straight through me. "Cass' injuries are lighter. Use her blood."

"But Dr. Gallagher—"

"No," Maxwell snapped. "There is no 'but.' I am the lead surgeon. And I am her husband."

He ignored what was happening to me. He did not hesitate. He made the decision as if it cost him nothing, and he began taking my blood.

I felt it like a tide pulling away. It was not pain, at least not at first, but something worse: a hollowing sensation. My body seemed to turn into an empty shell, while whatever made it "me" was dragged out, second by second.

My awareness thinned and drifted. The life in my body weakened, fading by degrees.

Maxwell led his team through Josephine's operation with single-minded focus.

"Josie, I will fix this. I will heal you," he murmured.

He sounded shaken. Fear and concentration tightened his face. Even in that distant, weightless state, I felt my chest splitting open.

I looked at myself on the other table, pale and still bleeding, slipping away. I tried to go back, forcing myself toward my body with everything I had, fighting as though sheer will alone could drive me back into my own skin. It failed. No matter how hard I struggled, my soul would not lock back into place.

The last threads of warmth in my body thinned, and sharp despair slid through me.

The next scheduled point for leaving this world had not arrived yet. If I died before then, my soul would be erased.

"Dr. Gallagher!" Simon shouted suddenly. "Ms. Vesper's blood pressure is dropping below normal!"

Maxwell paused for the briefest moment. He did not look at me. He did not turn his head. He did not change course.

Josephine's surgery had reached a critical point. If he stopped now, if he pulled away at the wrong second, the damage could be permanent. She could spend the rest of her life disabled.

That was what he chose to protect.

I closed my eyes and let the truth settle in. Maxwell had beaten me completely.

As the last trace of life in my body was about to vanish, the operating room door pushed open.

"Plasma's here. Start the transfusion now!" A male voice cut through the chaos. He was tall, with sharp eyes.

When he glanced at the monitor, shock flashed across his face. "What's going on? Why is this patient's blood pressure so low?"

The heart monitor's line weakened by the second. The doctor's hands went rigid, and panic crept into his voice. "Simon, get over here and help with resuscitation. Dr. Gallagher can finish suturing on his own."

The doctor and Simon moved fast and launched into emergency measures. They drove needles in, applied compression, and barked orders in clipped bursts.

I already knew it was useless. I could not return to my body.

Just as the heart monitor threatened to flatline, a white light ripped through the room and plunged straight into my body. The flat line quivered, then jumped. The monitor began to beep again, steady and alive.

The male doctor let out a hard breath, as if he had held it for minutes. "Vitals are stable. Transfer her to the ICU for observation. Once she wakes up, she should be fine."

Then his gaze hardened.

The resuscitation room shared a wall with the operating theater. Through the glass, Maxwell remained bent over Josephine, stitching with complete focus.

"Make sure she receives clotting factor injections on schedule," the doctor snapped. "She has hemophilia."

His voice rose as anger broke through his professional restraint. "She almost bled to death. You people were reckless beyond belief."

After a long moment, he sighed and instructed the nurse to wheel me out.

My soul drifted alongside my body into the ICU. I stood there and looked at myself on the bed. Something twisted deep inside me.

The person lying there was no longer me.

A short while later, the woman on the bed slowly opened her eyes. She turned her gaze toward me and forced an awkward smile.

"Host," she said softly. "Long time no see."

Sadness flickered through me. In this world, she alone could still perceive my existence.

"NODE, I lost," I said.

The woman on the bed sighed. "The settlement had already been completed. Your mission is still considered finished."

NODE, the Neural Outcome Determination Engine, paused before she continued in a calm, precise tone, "I intervened this time. If you fail to exit this world at the next node and another non-natural death occurs, no one will be able to save you.

"For now, I am temporarily residing in your body to maintain its vital functions. During this period, I will live in your place. When the next node arrives, we can leave."

"I can access your memories and calculate optimal behavior through objective data. But…"

"But what?" I asked.

"I cannot possess human emotions," NODE replied. "I cannot simulate your feelings for Maxwell."

Maxwell came the next day. By then, NODE had already been discharged from the ICU.

When he entered the room, he saw "me" sitting up in bed and carefully eating a bowl of soup. A plain, cheap takeout bag rested nearby.

Guilt flickered across his face.

"Takeout isn't healthy," Maxwell said. He poured soup from a container he had brought. "Have a little of this."

I watched from the side. Maxwell had cooked for once, a rare occurrence.

Then I noticed the carrots floating on the surface of the soup, and cold spread through my chest.

I was allergic to carrots.

The soup had turned lukewarm. It looked like leftovers, likely taken from the next room.

NODE offered a flat "thank you" and handed the soup back.

…

"I'm sorry," Maxwell said. He stared at the carrots, as if they had appeared out of nowhere.

Guilt weighed heavily in his eyes. Then another emotion surfaced: relief.

'Good thing Cass was unconscious,' he thought. 'Good thing she doesn't know what I did in the operating room.'

…

I caught every shift in his expression. The corner of my mouth curved into a quiet, bitter smile.

People were right. It was easier to see clearly from the outside. I observed everything he did and missed nothing.

That soup had belonged to Josephine first. After she finished it, he had given the rest to me. She loved the taste of carrots.

The care he showed me now, the concern and warmth in his voice, were things Josephine had received first and then passed along.

NODE looked at him in silence. No emotion showed in her eyes. Not even I could find sorrow or joy there.

…

Maxwell's palm grew damp with sweat. Her silence unsettled him, though he could not explain why.

After a long moment, NODE lifted her eyes to Maxwell. "You should go back to work. I can take care of myself."

Maxwell stared at her, stunned.

If it were me, I would have started arguing by now. At the very least, I would have demanded an explanation.

The accident had been pure coincidence. Josephine and I had been on the same bus. We were hit at the same time and brought in together. Yet my husband remembered me only as an afterthought.

Guilt flickered through Maxwell's eyes. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Cass, get some rest. If you want to eat anything, just message me. I'll make it for you."

He reached out and gently rubbed NODE's head, then turned and left. His retreat looked less like leaving and more like running away.

I could not stray far from my body. I stood by the window and watched patients move through the courtyard below. Birth, sickness, aging, death—every cycle played out in those corridors.

"NODE, when is the next exit node?" I asked quietly.

"I do not know," NODE replied with a sigh. "We have to wait for notification. If it is fast, ten days or half a month. If it is slow, we wait until you die of old age."

Then her tone hardened. "Host, we do not have room for another mistake. I hope you understand this time. The affection of a male supporting character is unstable. Withdrawing in time and leaving cleanly is best for both of us."

I froze. I had heard those words once before, three years ago. Back then, I believed Maxwell's love could protect me. I thought it was enough to keep me safe.

Now it all felt like a joke.

When we first studied medicine together, he grabbed my hand, eyes blazing with certainty. "Cass, we'll be healthy together for the rest of our lives."

"At life and death?" I laughed at our wedding, covering my mouth, blissfully happy. "No one escapes that."

"I don't care," he said. "Even if Hades himself comes for you, I'll storm the underworld and drag you back."

In the end, he was the one who pushed me straight into hell.

Maybe I could finally learn.

Before I could promise NODE anything, the door burst open.

"Cassie, Maxie said you were here." Josephine stepped into the room. "Are you feeling better?"

She braced herself against the wall and moved with deliberate slowness. Her smug gaze slid toward NODE.

Maxwell stood beside her, carefully supporting her arm, as if she were made of glass.

I looked at him, and something sour spread through my chest. This was the woman he protected with his whole heart.

Josephine's eyes gleamed with a victor's confidence. She looked down at NODE, chin lifted. Thick bandages wrapped her right hand.

NODE met her gaze calmly. No emotion surfaced at all.

Josephine faltered, as if she had thrown a punch and struck cotton. She recovered quickly, her smile blooming again. "I really have Maxie to thank this time. If it weren't for him, I'd never be able to hold a paintbrush again."

She sighed softly, feigning hesitation. "He said it would be more convenient for my recovery if I moved in with him after I'm discharged. But I feel bad about it."

Her tone stayed gentle, her eyes bright with barely concealed triumph.

Maxwell looked awkward. He glanced at NODE with care. "Cass… Josie's family is all overseas. She's alone here, and now her right hand is injured. I don't feel at ease letting her stay by herself. Do you think maybe…"

He did not finish the sentence.

I curled my lips into a cold smile.

We had just gotten married. We had not even lived in our new home for two days before he tried to bring another woman back.

He did not dare say it outright. Instead, he searched NODE's face, guessing at what "my" reaction might be.

Josephine smiled to herself. She knew my temper. She knew I would never agree.

Who brought another woman into their marital home?

But NODE was not me. The system felt no love for Maxwell at all. She lowered her head, thinking. I knew what that meant. NODE was calculating the optimal solution.

After a long moment, NODE looked up and answered evenly, "Okay."

The word landed like a dropped scalpel. The room fell silent.

Maxwell and Josephine stared at each other, disbelief written across their faces. They had not expected this. If it were me, anger or questioning would have followed. There would have been a storm.

But NODE remained terrifyingly calm. I knew this was the answer she had calculated.

Maxwell opened his mouth, ready to say something more. Then he looked at NODE again and froze.

There was neither sorrow nor joy in her eyes, only a still, stagnant emptiness, like a pool of dead water.

For the first time, a chill crept up Maxwell's spine.