Yet, the news of Katelyn’s death had spread rapidly, reaching every corner of the globe.
In the meantime, Vincent had spent several days in a somber vigil beside what was thought to be Katelyn’s body at the hospital. Adhering to tradition, he stayed near the body until it was time for cremation, handling the arrangements for what was assumed to be her final remains.
However, just as the attendants were rolling Katelyn’s “body” out of the morgue, they encountered another hospital bed being pushed in their direction.
Despite being in the morgue, it was clear that those pushing the incoming bed were disoriented relatives of a patient. It appeared they had mistakenly taken the patient to the wrong floor for an examination.
The bed they were pushing seemed impossible to control.
“Can anyone control this thing? We’re about to collide!”
“I’m just as lost! This is my first attempt at managing one, and it’s wildly unpredictable!”
Panic had set in among the patient’s family members.
Vincent struggled to maneuver the bed quickly enough, leading to a direct collision with another.
Bang! A loud crash echoed through the corridor.
A stern look settled on Vincent’s face. As the beds collided, the white sheet draping Katelyn’s “body” was thrown off instantly.
The body’s skin was ghostly pale, a stark sign that the person had been lifeless for days. Deep gashes and bruises covered the body, each wound telling the story of a tragic death.
Vincent snapped, his frustrated voice sharp. “Can’t you see?” His face was filled with rage, but the moment his gaze fell on “Katelyn’s body,” it faded. His tone shifted, now laced with warmth and concern. “Katelyn, are you hurt?” He looked at her as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered.
L? с? α?nν．
The relatives of the patient who had accidentally knocked into Katelyn’s bed stood frozen, their faces etched with disbelief. None of them had expected the bed to be carrying a corpse.
No one dared to speak as Vincent strode away. It wasn’t until his group had disappeared that one of the relatives leaned toward the man leading them and whispered, “That really looked like Katelyn.” The leader’s expression darkened. “Keep your mouth shut,” he snapped coldly.
The so-called patient in the bed suddenly tossed the covers aside, revealing a face untouched by sickness. There was no frailty, no pallor—only the healthy glow of someone in perfect condition.
The group exchanged glances before hurriedly leaving, looking nothing like the patient or their family members.
Meanwhile, Vincent maneuvered Katelyn’s supposed corpse into a waiting vehicle. He settled into a car trailing the hearse, following the solemn procession toward the crematorium.
.
.
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