After the death was declared.
The remaining procedures progressed chanically.
The monitors beside the bed shut off one by one.
The ECG screen faded to black, and the oxygen saturation sensors went dark.
Nurses removed the various tubes and electrodes connected to Talia’s body.
Yet even as the dical staff hurried back and forth, none of us moved.
Talia’s mother had collapsed into a chair, and even David, Jessie, and Rachel—who would normally have rushed to comfort her—stood frozen in silence.
A nurse approached.
“We’re going to take care of Talia now. You can either wait outside or stay and watch, if you’d like.”
“Take care of her.”
That ant postmortem care.
Placing saline-soaked gauze on the eyelids, propping the jaw with a towel so the mouth wouldn’t fall open.
Then laying absorbent pads for postmortem relaxation and securing an identification band around the ankle—an entire series of steps.
I was familiar with the procedure from my dical days, but it wasn’t sothing you ever wanted the family to see.
It was the process of turning a person from a “patient” into a “body.”
“Ma’am?”
But in that mont.
It was as if Talia’s mother couldn’t hear anything at all.
The nurse, unsure what to do, turned her head and her eyes t mine.
When I mouthed the word “funeral,” she understood.
“We’ll need to discuss funeral arrangents. Could you co with ?”
Only then did her mother move.
Once we entered the consultation room, a hospital employee laid out the paperwork.
“Have you already chosen a funeral ho? If not, we can recomnd one of our partnered providers… How many visitors do you expect for the service…?”
“If she had any life insurance or supplental plans, they’ll need to be contacted. The funeral director can report to Social Security on your behalf, but you’ll still need to notify the bank, credit card companies…”
The social worker quickly listed practical matters.
As if trying to give her no room to think about anything else.
Then, with a knock, the primary physician entered.
“Once again, my condolences.”
It was uncommon for the attending physician to personally join a eting like this.
I had just begun to wonder why when he continued.
“I’m truly sorry to bring this up now… but Talia’s treatnt was very unusual. In such cases… if you allow it, an autopsy could help us determine the precise cause.”
“An autopsy?”
“Yes. If we check how the dication affected each organ, it could help future patients.”
The physician hesitated before adding:
“Talia signed a docunt stating that she wished to donate her body to science for dical advancent. But the final decision rests with you.”
“No. Absolutely not. I won’t allow that.”
Her mother shook her head vehently.
“She has suffered enough. You already captured every image during treatnt—CTs, MRIs—shouldn’t that be enough?”
It wasn’t.
There were limits to imaging.
Pictures only showed shadows.
So things could be known only by looking directly.
Tiny hemorrhages on an organ’s surface, color changes in tissue, abnormal lymph node swelling, adhesions on the peritoneum, the character of ascites…
I quietly spoke up.
“An autopsy is necessary. Especially if we want to trace which organ failed first, and where everything started…”
“So my daughter wasn’t just a lab rat alive—now she has to be dissected dead too?”
“This is what Talia wanted.”
“She was seventeen! She wasn’t old enough to make that kind of decision…!”
If her sacrifice was to have aning, we couldn’t lose the final data.
But legal authority belonged to the mother.
Persuasion wasn’t going to work.
“…I guess there’s no choice.”
There was one card I could play.
I hated that it had co to this—but there was no alternative.
“Talia made her wishes clear. In writing. And repeatedly in front of multiple witnesses. If you refuse her will…”
I paused.
“We can petition the court to interpret the conflict—whether the deceased’s explicit intention or the family’s choice takes precedence.”
“You’re… threatening a lawsuit?”
Her face went rigid.
She fully understood.
Legal battles beco battles of money, and the outco was obvious.
She had already lost once in court over Talia’s dical decision-making rights.
Which was probably why her attitude shifted.
From rage to pleading.
“Please… not this… Talia already gave so much. Must you really cut into her even after death?”
“This is necessary to save more lives.”
“Liar!”
Her mother finally exploded.
“You’re not doing this for anyone’s life! You’re using her for your own gain! I know how people like you work—you want money, or prestige, or data! Don’t pretend otherwise! I tolerated all of this because Talia wanted it—but this? Draining the last drop of her blood like so vampire—!”
She wasn’t wrong.
I was not a person who acted out of pure goodwill.
Everything I did was calculated.
Talia was no exception.
But David and Rachel—who didn’t know the whole truth—held her back.
“Ma’am, this is Talia’s wish.”
“You think she knew anything? She lived in a dream world! Dreaming of becoming a model, of going to New York—those ridiculous fantasies! And as for you, Sean—she adored you! She had posters of you on her wall! Kids that age are so easy to influence… When soone they idolize asks them to help the world—of course she said yes! You manipulative—!”
Then soone stepped between us.
“No.”
It was Rachel.
Her voice was quiet but firm.
“Talia didn’t do this because of Sean. She decided it on her own.”
“But she—”
“I checked, over and over. You know she confided everything in .”
Rachel drew in a breath before continuing.
“This is… exactly what she wanted. If she were here right now, she’d say: ‘Co on, we’re almost at the end—why stop now? It’s way cooler to go all the way, duh!’”
Her mother opened her mouth to argue—then failed.
Instead, she pulled Rachel into a trembling embrace and cried.
I gave a small nod to the physician.
The silent signal to proceed.
He bowed his head in acknowledgnt and quietly left the room.
I turned to David.
“I’ll head out first.”
David nodded.
He knew that keeping distance was best right now.
And so I left the room behind.
***
I returned to the hotel. It was still only 11 p.m. One hour until midnight.
“Let’s… just sleep early tonight.”
I felt like I should organise Talia’s data or catch up on the work piling up—do sothing productive—but strangely, the words on the page wouldn’t register.
It was the lack of sleep.
I hadn’t truly rested in days.
Sotis the best thing to do is simply sleep.
So I washed up and lay in bed, but no matter how much I tossed and turned, sleep wouldn’t co.
I forced my eyes shut.
I had no idea how much ti passed.
Then I sensed a presence beyond my closed eyelids.
Not a human presence.
I knew exactly what it was.
My death notice.
Delivered at midnight like always.
It was ti to check how much Talia’s sacrifice had extended my life expectancy……but I really didn’t want to look.
I quietly counted to sixty.
Slowly as possible.
The notice would disappear after a minute.
I could check tomorrow.
However.
When I finally opened my eyes after a long while……the notice was still there.
【Ti of Death: March 11, 2023】
【Ti Remaining: 2,076 days】
【Survival Rate: 50.3% ( 9.7%p)】
The numbers showed a clear increase in my lifespan.
The exploration Talia risked her life for… had made a massive contribution to my survival.
I should’ve been happy……but instead, nausea surged.
I felt stomach acid burn its way up my esophagus.
My vision swirled, dizzying.
No—more like the walls were closing in on , the room shrinking, trying to crush .
I couldn’t stand it and stumbled out of the bedroom.
Only when I saw the large window in the living room did I finally catch my breath.
Like escaping from a tiny box—I could finally breathe again.
But the anxiety didn’t go away.
“Is this a panic attack?”
Maybe it was just another Castleman’s symptom.
Or maybe physical and ntal exhaustion piled on all at once.
I ended up going to the small bar in the corner of the suite and pouring whiskey.
I knew relying on alcohol wasn’t the answer—but sitting still felt like my chest would burst.
The amber liquid burned my throat and eased my breathing for a mont, but soon the tightness returned.
So I poured another glass.
A vicious cycle—I knew it.
Then—
Ding!
My phone vibrated.
A notification from Talia’s social dia account—new post uploaded.
It was the obituary her mother had posted.
Every line seed to carry resentnt toward .
Comnts flooded in.
— I hope you’re not hurting in heaven.
— Talia… you were so cool till the end.
—I’m actually crying…
—I was literally watching her livestream earlier… Is this real?
—Talia, you worked so hard. Rest well now…
Most people mourned her, but here and there, hateful words appeared.
—That last part about the autopsy feels so wrong.
—Feels like they brainwashed a minor into being used for experints.
—She kept saying Sean was the best… so did she really donate her body just because he wanted it?
—Did he basically buy her off?
—No way Sean did all that without getting sothing out of it.
I read the accusations in silence.
I didn’t feel particularly wronged or angry.
None of it was untrue.
In fact, they were right.
Everything I did was to survive.
And my survival rate had jumped nearly ten percent.
“…Haa…”
My chest tightened again.
No matter how deeply I inhaled, it felt like oxygen wasn’t reaching my lungs.
“Hyperventilating…”
I needed to breathe into a paper bag.
But even doing that, my vision blurred.
My heart thrashed erratically, and I felt a strange sense of floating—like I had separated from reality.
I don’t know how long it lasted.
Ding dong—
The doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three tis…
I ignored it—yet the ringing didn’t stop.
Soone kept pressing the button outside the door.
I tried to rise from the sofa, but my body felt like lead.
So I crawled.
Literally crawled across the floor to the door.
And when I finally twisted the handle and pulled it open—
Rachel was standing there.
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