Chapter Two: Awakening from Anesthesia

Mu You had a dream.

He dreamed of the Death Row Amusement Park at dusk. Fatty San was pedaling a bicycle with Jiang Man on the back, while Mu You weaved through the crowd on a skateboard, chasing after them. Jiang Man cheered them on with an ice cream held high in her hand, drawing curious glances from those around. The late autumn wind was chilling, brushing through Jiang Man’s long black hair. Her bun unraveled, and as the violet butterfly bow slipped free, it fluttered toward Mu You on the wind. He reached out to catch it, but a sudden warmth filled his palm. Opening his hand, he found a splash of crimson—blood seeping endlessly from the bow, its sweet, metallic scent so sharp it jolted Mu You awake.

The scene spun violently. Darkness swallowed everything. His awareness crashed back into his body, scalp prickling with terror.

The butterfly bow… bleeding—it was all real! He wasn’t dreaming!

What should he do? Mu You tried to sit up, only to realize his body wouldn't respond. His eyelids were too heavy to open, his limbs seemed bound.

So cold. The air conditioning was set low, and his body was close to freezing.

What on earth is happening?

He felt utterly numb, his body beyond his control. In the chill, he could even smell blood—his own.

“This one’s in decent shape. Survived such a big explosion, and aside from excessive blood loss, the internal organs are usable. Prep for extraction—live harvesting.”

“Administer thirty-five percent anesthesia. Even if the merchandise wakes up mid-procedure, they’ll be unable to move, ensuring the organs stay fresh.”

Cold, emotionless voices overlapped by his ear, treating him as nothing more than an experimental subject.

Black market organ trafficking!

He wasn’t even dead yet! And they dared do this?

His chest was exposed to the air, cold wind raising goosebumps on his skin. A scalpel traced his abdomen, and pain tore through his nerves, radiating everywhere. Mu You wanted to struggle, to scream, but he couldn’t even move a finger. The agony and terror threatened to drown him.

Someone, save me!

“My, your heart’s racing. Seems you’re coming out of anesthesia. How does it feel, boy? Not pleasant, is it, being cut open like this…”

The surgeon, carefully dissecting Mu You’s abdominal wall, chuckled as he spoke.

Laughing—he was laughing! Pain so overwhelming drove Mu You to the edge of collapse. He fought to stay conscious, ignoring the man’s words.

I can’t faint—if I do, I’ll never wake up!

“Can’t tell if you’re lucky or not, surviving ‘Original Sin.’ Not bad, kid. Shame this is the end of the line for you. We’re just working for the Death Row Amusement Park—if you turn into a vengeful ghost, don’t come after us!”

“Curse your entire family!”

Mu You howled inside, feeling the scalpel slice through his abdominal muscles, the cold steel probing his insides, gradually peeling away his organs. He could even hear the gush of blood as his vessels were severed.

He lay motionless, enduring the torture with no outlet for his agony, consciousness slipping toward oblivion.

Forcing himself to recall happier memories, he tried to distract from the pain, but his mind was filled only with scenes of horror—a living hell.

Assailed both physically and mentally, Mu You was breaking apart. He felt himself rising, leaving his body behind, hovering beneath the harsh surgical lights, watching four surgeons in blue scrubs—and his own pale, bloodless body, forcibly cut open.

A furious fire surged within him. He’d been an orphan since childhood, always taught not to cause trouble but never to run from it. Mu You might have been quiet, but he wasn’t so cowardly as to let others trample him.

He seized a scalpel from the surgical tray and drove it into the back of the doctor working on his left kidney.

The blade went straight through, his hands passing through the man’s body as if it were air. Mu You froze. The surgeon turned abruptly, and Mu You braced himself for the worst—but the man didn’t see him, simply walked through Mu You and took a tissue from a nurse.

Staring at his arm inside the body, Mu You was stunned. Had he really become a ghost?

“Well, well, what a delicious soul—different from all the others…”

A childish, greedy voice sounded behind him. Mu You turned, startled, and saw a little girl standing at the foot of the bed, maybe three or four years old, in a blood-red dress. Her eyes were black as ink, spider-webbed with red veins; her tiny, pale face looked almost translucent, and her skinny hands wiped at her mouth. When Mu You looked at her, the red in her eyes faded, replaced by a sweet smile.

“Hello, big brother.”

“Uh… hello.”

Mu You couldn’t shake the sense that this girl was not ordinary.

“You can see me?” he asked in surprise.

“Of course! Big brother, your soul smells delicious. I was drawn here by your scent.”

“Wait—are you planning to eat me?!”

Alarmed, Mu You took a wary step back.

“Don’t worry, you’re the first soul I’ve met who can talk like me. I won’t eat you.”

She wiped the drool from her mouth, answering seriously.

“Um, so ‘07’ is your name? And—what is all this?”

Mu You’s worldview was shattered. The girl seemed unreliable, but he had no better option.

“Hee hee! Come with me, big brother. I’ll tell you everything I know!”

She zipped to his side, grabbed his hand, and dragged him toward the surgical wall.

“No, wait!”

Mu You screamed in terror. The girl’s strength was startling; he couldn’t break free. As they hurtled toward the solid wall, he squeezed his eyes shut in despair.

But the expected impact never came. When he opened his eyes, they were already in the corridor, racing toward its end.

“See? In and out without hindrance—exciting, right?”

The girl giggled as she pulled Mu You to the door of the morgue.

Mu You felt uneasy. His body seemed even less substantial than before, a wave of weakness sweeping over him. The girl pushed him through the doors.

“What is this…”

Forcing himself to stay upright, Mu You saw that on each corpse lying on a slab, an identical figure had appeared—souls, dazed and hollow-eyed, staring blankly at their surroundings.

“These people are like you, big brother—they’re souls.”

“So these are souls?”

“Not exactly—these are souls, not spirits,” the girl corrected him, enunciating each word.

“You mean, the spirit is one thing, the soul another? They’re separate?”

“Yes. The so-called soul is divided into ‘spirit’ and ‘soul.’ The spirit governs personality and fate; the soul controls thought and memory. Both are attached to the body to function. Once a person dies, spirit and soul separate. As life fades, fate ends, and the spirit dissolves into nothing. The soul, though, can linger for a while—hence the phenomenon of last flashes of awareness before death. The soul exists longer.”

Her eyes dimmed as she spoke. Noticing Mu You’s worsening state, she added carefully, “Which means, big brother… you’re already dead.”

Boom!

It was as if thunder had struck. The world spun, Mu You’s body trembling violently, nearly collapsing.

Dead… just like that, he was dead.

He was only sixteen! He’d never experienced anything new, his whole life ahead—gone, just like that.

Despair hollowed him out, his soul growing thinner, almost vanishing.

“Big brother, now’s not the time to grieve—you have to survive, think ahead!”

The girl’s anxious cry snapped Mu You back.

Right—survival is what matters. Nothing else is worth thinking about now!

“Tell me—how do I survive?”

He gripped the girl’s delicate shoulders, breath quick and eyes blazing.

“Eat,” she answered firmly. “Souls and spirits dissipate because they lose balance with each other. You must regain that balance to survive. Hurry—absorb the spirits from the mouths of the dead. There’s no time!”