One-Shot Transmigration: Sorry I'm Here To Ruin Your Happy Ever After-Chapter 118

The town was quiet as Min-jae, Saar, and Odysseus entered its narrow streets. The cottages and shops were dark and still, most of the residents asleep. Only the occasional lantern flickered along the cobblestones, casting long shadows that stretched into the alleys.

Saar led them through a back lane that opened onto a small inn on the edge of town. "This will do for now," he said. "It is secluded, and the owner is discreet. We can rest and plan our next move here."

Min-jae nodded, his eyes scanning the town as if memorizing every detail. He wanted to believe that here, at least for a night, he and his companions would be invisible. His mind, however, was still partially with Meical, still with the estate, still with all the chaos and blood he had left behind.

They moved quickly through the inn’s side entrance. The owner, a quiet man with a wary expression, nodded at Saar. There were no questions, no prying eyes, just a room for the three of them to settle into.

Min-jae allowed himself a single deep breath. He could feel his body tense from the journey, from the water, from the fear, from the grief. His cloak was heavy on his shoulders, soaked in lake water and sweat, but he did not remove it. Not yet. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Saar closed the door behind them. Odysseus checked the locks and peered out the window. "We are safe here for the night," he said. "We can rest, but we must be ready to move at a moment’s notice."

Min-jae nodded, finally allowing his body to sag against the wall. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, but sleep did not come. His mind flickered, unwilling to leave the horrors of the estate behind.

The ER doors burst open as Yura’s stretcher was rushed in. Her breathing was shallow, skin pale and clammy, eyes glassy and unfocused. The attending neurosurgeon barked orders: "Get me vitals! Stat!"

A nurse rattled off the numbers: "BP’s 80 over 40, pulse 120, O2 sats 82%!" Another connected defibrillator pads, calling out, "V-fib, we’re losing her!"

The room erupted. "Charge 200 joules!" The defibrillator whizzed, and Yura’s body jolted. "Resume compressions!" The rhythm of chest compressions filled the air, punctuated by the metronome’s beep.

"ICP’s off the charts, 40... 50... She’s herniating!" A nurse pushed meds, "Administering mannitol, 1 gram, and prep for hyperventilation!"

The team worked in sync, every second a countdown. But it was too late. The brain cells had died, victims of the tumor’s relentless pressure. The monitor’s wail flattened into a dirge, then fell silent.

"Asystole. Time of death... 01:42."

The room fell still. Machines hummed softly.

A nurse gently closed Yura’s eyes, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

The doctors.stepped back, their faces etched with exhaustion as they all bowed their heads slightly.

Mourning the life that was loss.

They stepped out of the resuscitation bay, and the lead doctor walked down the hall to the family room. Yura’s parents had been waiting. Her mom, Mrs. Kim, was pacing, fingers crushed into her sweater. Her dad sat stiff, staring at the floor like he’d stay there till he heard the news.

The doctor slid the door open. Mrs. Kim’s voice cracked: "Is my daughter? Please tell me she’s"

The physician dropped his head. "I’m sorry. We did all we could. Yura passed a few minutes ago."

The air froze. Then Mrs. Kim dropped to the floor with a sound that tore the hallway. "No no no my baby my Yura"

Her sobs echoed, raw and wild. Mr. Kim caught her, but his face crumbled, tears streaming as he bent over her. He tried to hold her, but his hands shook too.

"She was just she still had more time," Mrs. Kim choked out, palms to her face. "Why did it have to be her?"

The doctor stepped back, giving them space. Grief poured out loud, broken, devastating. Mrs. Kim clung to her husband’s shirt, body shaking hard. "I’ve lost her. I’ve lost my girl."

The doctor took a deep breath, his expression somber, before speaking in a gentle but clear tone.

"Mrs. Kim, Mr. Kim, Yura’s diagnosis was glioblastoma, an aggressive form of brain cancer. The tumor had grown rapidly, causing increased pressure on her brain, which ultimately led to her brain herniating."

He paused, allowing the parents to process the information.

"Once the brain herniated, it caused irreversible damage, leading to brain death. As a result, her heart stopped beating, and we were unable to revive her. We did everything we could to save her, but unfortunately, the tumor had progressed too far."

The doctor’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of inevitability.

"Can we see her?"

The doctor nodded "Yes, though the nursing have begun post-mortem, so once they hard done, you may see her."

Mrs. Kim wiped her face with trembling fingers, though her hands shook too hard to steady anything. Her breathing came in sharp, painful gasps as she leaned into her husband’s chest. Mr. Kim held her close, pressing his cheek to the top of her head, his own tears falling silently onto her hair.

The doctor waited patiently, giving them time before he continued speaking in that same soft, steady tone.

"The nurses will finish preparing her shortly," he said, hands clasped in front of him. "When they’re done, I’ll take you in to see her. You may stay with her as long as you need."

Mrs. Kim nodded faintly, though it was clear she barely heard him. Her mind was trapped in one place, one thought: Yura is gone.

Her daughter....

Her bright, stubborn, laughing child..

Her girl who used to run barefoot in their living room...

Her girl who used to fall asleep with her head on her mother’s lap...

Her girl who fought so hard through every surgery, every seizure, every bad scan...

Was gone...

She pressed her forehead against Mr. Kim’s shoulder, choking on a sob that seemed to rip straight out of her ribs. He held her tighter, but he too was splintering beneath the weight of it.

There was no comforting her.

There was no comforting him.

There was no comfort at all for losing a child.

Down the hall, a nurse quietly approached the doctor and whispered something. He nodded and turned back to them.

"They’ve finished," he said softly. "If you’re ready... I’ll take you to her."

Mrs. Kim immediately pushed herself off her husband, almost stumbling, her legs weak. Mr. Kim steadied her gently. Neither spoke as they followed the doctor.

The walk to the viewing room felt endless.

Each step echoed, each passing door a reminder of lives continuing while theirs had stopped.

Finally, the doctor opened a small door and stepped aside.

Yura lay on the narrow bed, sheet tucked smooth under her arms. Her face was calm, too calm, skin pale, lips parted like she was caught mid-breath.

Mrs. Kim let out a shattered breath and rushed forward, falling to her knees at the bedside. "My baby... my beautiful girl..."

Her fingers hovered, trembling in the air before finally touching Yura’s cheek.

Her body folded over Yura’s torso, sobbing into the fabric of the hospital gown. Mr. Kim pressed a shaking hand to his mouth before leaning over his wife and daughter, his shoulders heaving silently.

Between them, they wrapped their arms around the girl life had stolen from them.

One Month Later

The sun hung high above the fields, a hot white coin in the cloudless sky. It had been one month since Min-jae, Saar, and Odysseus slipped out of Aldoria under the cover of night, one month since Min-jae last saw Meical standing at the estate doorway, one month since everything in his life had collapsed into uncertainty.

The small farming town of Briar Glen had become their temporary refuge. It was quiet, remote, surrounded by fields of barley and wheat that shimmered gold under the summer sun. The people here minded their business. They valued work over gossip, and so four strangers arriving at dawn had not stirred suspicion for long.

Min-jae had changed in that month. His hair, once neatly groomed and trimmed, now fell to his shoulders. He rarely bothered to comb it, so it lay wild around his face, strands sticking to his forehead when he sweated under the sun. His skin had darkened several shades from daily labor. His hands had become rough, calloused, and full of small cuts that stung whenever he touched water.