Hospital BSS
Hospital BSS was built by the Bagan Secret Service—BSS for short—a non-governmental organization that works closely with the ruling regime. The captain of BSS is none other than the heir to the throne, Princess Iron Caramell. Her second-in-command is the formidable Steel Blade.
The hospital stands in downtown Capital Bumi. Despite being in the heart of the most densely populated area of the city, a wide field stretches behind it. Rumors swirl about that open space—some whisper of a secret underground lab experimenting on aliens, others believe it hides a weapon of mass destruction built by BSS. But those are just rumors.
On both sides of the hospital, there's a surprisingly serene garden—flowering bushes and towering trees offer rest and calm. And out front, the hospital connects directly to the main road.
This is where I came to get my blood test.
BOOM.
A single bolt of lightning strikes a tree. Not from the sky—but from somewhere else.
I drop to the ground instinctively, covering my ears with both hands. The ringing in my ears won't stop—not for twelve long seconds. Around me, chaos erupts. Hospital staff and civilians are running in every direction. Blade is sprinting toward us, his expression carved with panic. The fear in everyone's eyes—it must be for her.
The Guardian.
I force myself to my feet, still dizzy, trying to piece together what's happening. My eyes scan the area again. That lightning—it didn't come from above. Something's wrong.
Then I see them.
A squad of seven masked men is approaching. They move like soldiers, but something about them is…off. Who would dare attack the Guardian? Who has the audacity to challenge the Central Temple?
"Aliiii!" Blade's voice cracks through the air. He's still far, too far.
The masked men close the distance quickly. I struggle to steady myself, to move, to act. I turn and offer my hand to the Guardian, helping her up and shielding her behind me.
If she dies here, it would unbalance the fragile peace between nations. A war could erupt. My life? It's nothing in comparison. Some might mourn me—but it's an obvious choice. I have to protect her. Even if it costs me everything.
But before the men reach us, she steps forward.
And draws a dagger.
Wait—where was she hiding that?
Before I can stop her, she slices her own wrist.
The breeze shifts.
It races through the field, whips into the garden, rustling the trees. Her silver hair comes loose, dancing in the wind. She stands weak… but unshakable.
I freeze.
Her blood spills, glistening like metal. Silvery white. It stains her white dress, yet I can still see the difference between the fabric and the blood. It's not just blood—it's something else.
As I watch, stunned, the masked men begin to collapse.
One.
Two.
Three.
Five are already down.
I stare, confused—what just happened?
Snipers? No… no gunfire. No wounds.
"Poison," Azalea says, a proud smirk tugging at her lips.
"But how?" I ask, my eyes wide.
"My blood type is Mercury," she says calmly. "I can poison the air—within five meters of me."
A dozen questions crash into my mind at once.
But only one escapes my lips.
"Then… why am I still alive?"
She exhales softly. "I didn't want to lie to your face," she says. "But you'll understand when the time comes."