The autopsy room was silent, polished smooth like a block of ice. Fluorescent light fell straight onto the steel table, where the body lay motionless, skin stretched tight by gases gathered over time. There was no ticking clock, only the steady breathing of the forensic pathologist behind his protective visor. 

There was only one person in that room. His face was pale with exhaustion, dark circles shadowing sharp, indifferent eyes. Sleeplessness had etched itself into his features, yet his expression remained composed and severe, lending him a restrained, almost austere handsomeness that made his seriousness impossible to ignore.

The room was filled with the smell of blood and flesh. Oh! Putrid flesh!

How disgusting! 

To the people that only see corpses for the very first time, the scene appears with such fear.

But, to someone like Silas, this is nothing special, just extra work for him.

He pulled on his gloves, the movement so familiar it was almost devoid of feeling. The scent of disinfectant mixed with the heavy, unmistakable odor of death that had lingered for days. He did not flinch. In this line of work, reflex was the enemy of precision.

Silas hates this type of corpse the worst, imagining one day, when he was not paying attention, it suddenly exploded and slash "that thing" on him.

Thinking about it only already made him ill.

The scalpel drew a decisive line, deep enough to open a path to the truth, never excessive. The taut skin softened slightly, collapsing as if releasing a belated breath. He noted every detail with a clear, disciplined gaze. No judgment. No pity. Here, emotion was permitted only in the form of data.

The doctor tilted his head, listening to the faint sound of metal touching metal. Everything followed an order, even decay. He knew that beneath the distorted surface lay a story waiting to be told in the language of science.

When he finished, he sutured carefully, restoring the body to a calmer form. Before leaving, he stood still for a few seconds. Not to mourn, but to confirm: the truth had been recorded, and the dead, in the quietest way possible, had just been heard.

"Well well~ Look who is struggling again." A sweet and teasing yet mischievous voice broke the silence.

Silas turns his back, he looks at her with such helplessness, as if it wasn't something not so unsual, as if it was something that happens almost everyday.

"Wow, someone just aged twenty years overnight." She chuckles with joy and childishness, almost like nobody is listening except for them two.

If I can silent her again, I will. A thought went through his mind.

"Well, there are only you and me! What's with the looooong face?"

He looks at her, inside his eyes were a beautiful girl in shades of blue, as if sorrow had chosen her favorite color. She was as pale as Snow White, her fair skin almost luminous against her long, brownie-brown hair that fell softly like silk around her face. 

A bright smile bloomed on her rosy lips like a flower, light and effortless, yet behind it lingered a quiet sadness that words could never quite reach, shimmering softly in her eyes like a feeling waiting to be understood.

Her ocean-blue eyes held a quiet, unspoken sadness beneath the surface, deep and wavering like blue water hiding its cold.

"Evelyne, will you ever shut up?" Silas said with his such uncomfortableness, if she ever keeps her mouth closed, that would be the greatest thing she ever did to to him, to every human beings, to the entire humanity. 

"Jeez, what's the frust? Do you even sleep?" She just wouldn't shut up.

"Can you just be quiet like the corpse on the table." 

That's the only difference between her and the body, both are pale, sleepy and young.

One could never speak again forever.

One decided to speak forever always to forget her own death.

"Eve, if I have to listen to you yapping my ears off everyday, I would like to sleep in a coffin." 

"So you will join me?" She just wouldn't stop it

Silas has already lost it, but what could he do?

Suddenly, the door to the autopsy room opened, and two women followed by a man stepped inside, their presence cut through their conversation.

"Sorry bro, did I pass all my work to you?" 

Harley yawned as she stepped in, greeting her brother after what she boldly called a "nap," her posture already squared for the night shift ahead.

"Yes, it was indeed a yes Har, where were you?"

"Getting something to drink." 

Alice followed with an armful of thin case files, their sheer number deepening the fatigue etched into Silas's face.

"Good evening, Si-"

He didn't let her to finish her line.

"Alice, this is midnight."

"What did you expect her to say though? Good night is a phrase for having a night sleep." Daniel trailed behind, biting into an apple. He held one out to Silas with casual generosity.

But he snapped. All the anger he had for Evelyne was passed down to his friends

"No eating in here," he said sharply, eyes flicking to the corpse on the operating table. 

"Not now. Not ever. Especially not when there's a body in the room. There is a damn body in the room."

Two bodies exactly.

But only one is visible, the other remains a creature that against every logic.

Evelyne continues teasing Silas, but only him get annoyed with her jokes.

Because the others cannot see her.

Because only him can see her.

Because she's dead.

Evelyne Montclair is dead.