Roselle found herself in a surreal and ethereal realm that seemed to exist outside of time and space. Fragments of her past life flashed before her, which made her realize where she actually was: Within the realm of her own mind.

  Roselle glanced down at herself. No wounds. No pain. Her fingers traced over her arms, her torso—nothing. It was strange. Moments ago, she had been aching and broken from the mission.

  Her thoughts barely had time to settle before A faint glow caught her eye. She turned just in time to see a crystal coming toward her like a shooting star.

  Roselle gasped and raised her arms to shield herself, but there was no impact. Instead, the crystal engulfed her in a radiant light, pulling her forward with an unstoppable force.

  The void around her shattered, and she found herself within the middle of a hospital corridor. Nurses and doctors passed by. Something inside her chest tightened. Was this another memory?

  She took a hesitant step forward, then another. She needed answers.

  Spotting a nurse near the reception desk, Roselle rushed forward. "Excuse me," she urgently. "I'm looking for Sarah. Sarah Anderson. Can you tell me where she is?"

  The nurse turned, revealing vibrant pink hair tied up in a messy bun. She lazily blew a bubblegum bubble, letting it pop before giving Roselle a half-amused, half-bored look.

  “Well, well, kid,” she drawled, crossing her arms. “You sure picked a great time to come barging in here. Hate to break it to ya, but visiting hours are over.”

  Roselle blinked. “Are they?” she asked while raising a skeptical brow. “Because I’m pretty sure the sign says 7 to 10 PM.”

  She tilted her head toward the sign posted just a few feet away that clearly displayed the hospital’s visiting hours.

  The nurse’s eyes flicked to the sign, her chewing slowing while reading it.

  “…Oh.”

  Roselle folded her arms.

  The nurse sighed, rubbing the back of her neck before shooting Roselle a lopsided smirk. “Alright, you got me. Technically, you’re in the clear.” She blew another bubble, letting it pop before adding, “But I was about to take my break, so what’s say we make this quick, yeah?”

  Roselle nodded. “I just need to know where Sarah is. She’s my best friend.”

  “Sarah, huh?” The nurse tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Lemme check.”

  The nurse lazily tapped at the keyboard. After a few seconds, she paused and glanced at Roselle. “Alright, kid, what did you say your name was?”

  “Roselle.”

  The nurse’s fingers froze mid-type. Her eyebrows lifted slightly and a slow exhale followed. “Oh boy…”

  Roselle’s stomach twisted. “What?”

  With a sigh, the nurse leaned against the desk, blowing another bubble before letting it pop. “Listen, sweetheart, the Sarah you’re looking for? She’s in the crazy room.”

  Roselle’s eyes widened. “C-Crazy room?!”

  “Psych ward, kid. The whole unstable deal,” the nurse clarified while tapping the side of her head with a finger. “She was admitted not too long ago. She’s been... well, losing it, from what I hear.”

  Roselle’s throat tightened. “Losing it how?”

  The nurse shrugged. “Dunno the details, but what I do know from what the doctor told me is that if you’re planning to visit, you’d better try to keep it light. No heavy talk, no digging into any weird trauma—just smiles and good vibes, alright?” She gave Roselle a pointed look. “You sure you wanna see her while she’s in this condition?”

  Roselle didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  The nurse let out a long whistle. “Well, can’t say I didn’t warn ya.” She grabbed a clipboard, then got up from her desk and went toward the hallway. “Alright, come on. Let’s go see your unstable bestie.”

  Roselle followed the nurse toward the psych ward. The deeper they walked, the more unsettling the atmosphere became. The rooms they passed were lined with thick doors, some with small observation windows, others sealed shut. The occasional distant murmur or muffled cry made Roselle’s stomach twist.

  "Almost there, kid," the nurse muttered, flipping through the clipboard in her hands. "Hope you’re ready for this."

  Roselle wasn’t sure if she was ready.

  Finally, they reached the end of the corridor, stopping in front of a door. Standing right outside was a giant of a man.

  Roselle’s breath hitched.

  ‘He looks familiar…’

  The man’s arms were crossed over his massive chest. His bulging muscles was barely contained in his wrestler-like tank top. His blonde hair was slightly unkempt. His stance was like a guard dog ready to lunge at the first sign of trouble.

  Sarah’s father. Mr. Anderson.

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  Beside him stood a woman with the same shade of blonde, though hers was dulled by age and stress. She looked exhausted with lines of worry etched across her features. Her hands were gently placed on the shoulders of a small child clinging to her leg.

  Roselle’s gaze shifted to the little girl.

  Tiny. Blonde hair. A #1 shirt stretched across her small frame.

  ‘She’s about five…’ Roselle thought, ‘Her name is…’

  Nothing came. She knew this girl. She was Sarah’s younger sister. But the name—why couldn’t she remember?

  Before she could think too much on it, Mr. Anderson’s head went down. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Roselle.

  His face darkened, and his fists clenched.

  He took a step forward, towering over her like a living mountain. His his deep, furious voice rumbled through the corridor.

  "What the hell are YOU doing here?"

  Roselle swallowed hard. “I… I came to check on Sarah,” she said slowly.

  Mr. Anderson’s nostrils flared. His jaw tightened as he took another intimidating step forward. “After putting her in the hospital?” He boomed through the hallway with fury. “You were her best friend, and you did this to her!” His massive hands curled into fists. “I saw the school tapes, Roselle! I saw you attacking her!”

  Roselle barely had time to process before his entire posture shifted, and with terrifying certainty, he declared—

  "I’M GONNA BODYSLAM YOU ON THIS HOSPITAL FLOOR!"

  Roselle’s mind immediately assessed the situation: This man is a living tank. A wrestler, trained and built for one thing—crushing people. And now, he wants to flatten me.

  She stiffened. “Uh oh…”

  The way his muscles flexed, the way he squared his shoulders—it was clear he wasn’t bluffing.

  Panic flared in Roselle’s mind. ‘Oh my god...i’m gonna die in a hospital!’

  Just when Mr. Anderson prepared to grapple Roselle, they both heard a loud, “Oi.”

  The nurse.

  She popped her bubblegum loudly, stepping between them. She pointed at Mr.Anderson. “Listen, big guy, I just had this floor cleaned crystal,” she pointed at the shining tiles. “Do you know how long that took?” She scoffed. “No way am I letting you turn my hard work into a murder scene.”

  She smacked her gum, eyeing Mr. Anderson up and down. “So how ‘bout you keep the suplexes to yourself, yeah? Hospitals got enough problems without your WrestleMania Revenge Arc playing out in the psych ward.”

  Mr. Anderson’s furious glare flicked from the nurse to Roselle, then back to the nurse.

  The nurse tapped her foot. “What’s it gonna be, tough guy? You wanna settle your deep emotional pain in a healthy way, or do I gotta call security and have you escorted to the kiddie corner?”

  Mr. Anderson let out a slow, frustrated exhale through his nose. His fists remained clenched, but after a long, tense silence, he finally muttered, “Tch. Whatever.”

  Roselle let out a breath.

  The nurse winked at her. “There ya go, kid. Crisis averted. You’re welcome.”

  The small blonde girl frowned. Her big, confused eyes darted between her father and Roselle before she spoke. “Daddy… why are you shouting at Roselle?”

  Mrs. Anderson immediately turned her attention to the little girl and ran a hand through her hair. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she murmured. Then, she took a step step forward and put herself between Mr. Anderson and Roselle.

  Then, with a sweet yet dangerously firm smile, she looked up at her husband. “Calm down, or I’m changing my mind about dinner tonight.”

  Mr. Anderson, the towering force of nature who had just been moments away from turning Roselle into a permanent part of the hospital floor immediately froze. His entire posture shifted and he unclenched his fists in shock. “You wouldn’t!”

  Mrs. Anderson tilted her head.“…I might.”

  A long, heavy silence followed.

  Then, with a sigh, Mr. Anderson muttered, “Tch. Fine,” and folded his arms while the anger eased slightly on his face.

  Mrs. Anderson nodded before turning her attention back to Roselle with a smile on her face, though there was a hint of concern. “I’m trying to understand, dear. Why would you do something like that to Sarah?”

  Roselle inhaled sharply. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Because…I didn’t do it.”

  Mrs. Anderson blinked.

  “You might have seen the recording,” Roselle continued, “but that wasn’t me.”

  Mr. Anderson scoffed, but Roselle didn’t falter. “I know how it looks, and I can’t prove it. I wish I could. All I can do is ask you to believe me when I say that I would never, never, never hurt Sarah. Not my best friend.”

  A silence fell over the hallway.

  Mrs. Anderson studied Roselle carefully, searching her face for any sign of deception. Mr. Anderson remained skeptical, but he hadn’t interrupted. Even the little girl looked up at Roselle with wide, thoughtful eyes.

  Before any of them could respond, the sound of a door creaking open echoed in front of them. Out stepped a man with purple hair, neatly styled, and a light smirk on his face. His crisp, white coat swayed slightly as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

  “Well, well, I heard a bit of a commotion out here," he said with a raised eyebrow while speaking with a light tone. “Is anyone coming in to see Sarah, or are we having a party out here?”

  His sharp eyes scanned the group, settling for a moment on Mr. Anderson, whose frustration still lingered in the air. The doctor’s gaze flickered to Roselle, noticing the strain in her posture and the sadness in her eyes.

  “Ah, I see,” the doctor continued. “This is a bit more serious than I thought. We do try to keep the noise down around here.” He glanced at the nurse who was with the group and winked. “I’m sure Nurse Mia can vouch for the fact that things can get pretty lively in this hallway, but I do have a patient who needs some quiet.”

  The nurse, Mia, rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Doctor. You want ME to vouch for you?”

  The doctor chuckled, then looked back to Roselle and the Anderson family. "Now," he continued, "if you're here to see Sarah, I can let you in. But…," he added with a smile that faded a little. “Try to keep your topics light.”

  The doctor led the group into Sarah’s room. The room had a quiet hum from the medical equipment. It smelled faintly of antiseptic.

  And there she was.

  Roselle’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Sarah. She looked so different from the lively, strong-willed girl she knew. Sarah’s normally vibrant yellow hair, usually tied up neatly in a ponytail was now loose around her face with the strands framing her features softly. She looked almost angelic, despite the bandages wrapped around her head and the faint bruising that marred her skin.

  The little girl, clinging to Mrs. Anderson, exclaimed, “Sister! Sister!” She reached out eagerly, taking a step forward.

  But before the little girl could go any further, Mrs. Anderson gently pulled her back. “No, darling, not yet. We need to let Sarah rest, okay?”

  The little girl pouted, but she didn’t protest.

  Roselle stepped closer to Sarah’s bed. She wanted so desperately to speak to her. She turned to the doctor and trembled slightly. “Is she… going to be okay?”

  The doctor’s face softened. “We’re doing everything we can. it’s going to take time to—!“

  To everyone’s surprise, Sarah’s hand twitched. It moved slowly and reached out. Her fingers brushed lightly against the edge of Roselle’s hand before curling around it with surprising strength.

  The doctor’s eyes widened. “What?” he shouted in disbelief. “This… this goes against everything the readings are showing. How is this possible?”

  Roselle, too stunned to speak froze for a moment. It wasn’t just a light touch—there was real pressure, real life behind it. Tears welled up in Roselle’s eyes. Her hand trembled in Sarah’s grasp.

  Sarah’s eyelids fluttered open. “Roselle…” she whispered.

  Before Roselle could react, Sarah pulled her in. She hugged her tightly, pressing her face into Roselle’s shoulder. The small, fragile motion of Sarah holding on made Roselle’s heart crack.

  “I’m so sorry…” Sarah mumbled into her shoulder.

  Sarah whispered something, which made Roselle’s eyes widened.

  “A-Are you sure, Sarah?!”

  Project Mage