The sirens wailed.
The world spun.
And Dr. Loraine Samaniego felt the sky collapsing around her.
She had saved countless lives before—patients who had clung to her hands with tears of hope, strangers whose hearts she had restarted when everyone else had given up. She was the prodigy doctor, the youngest Nobel Prize winner in medical history. Yet now, as the metal of the plane groaned and the air masks dangled uselessly, she realized there was no one left to save her.
“Please…” she whispered, her trembling hands pressed together. “If there’s a chance… let me live. Let me still help people… anywhere. Just give me another chance.”
The next thing she knew, everything went black.
. . .
When her eyes fluttered open, the scent of roses and honey filled the air.
Golden curtains swayed gently, and the light that poured in wasn’t fluorescent—but warm and divine, like the touch of a sunrise.
“Huh…? Where… am I?”
The bed beneath her was soft—too soft. The ceiling above her gleamed with gilded patterns, cherubs, and painted clouds. This wasn’t a hospital room. This was—
“Your Highness! Princess Celestee, you’re awake!”
A girl in a maid’s uniform rushed to her side, eyes welling with tears.
Princess… Celestee?
Amethyst blinked, her pulse racing. No way.
That name—she knew it. From the old romance novel she used to read during breaks between surgeries. The one where the princess with silver hair and violet eyes died in the first chapter, poisoned before the story’s true heroine appeared.
Her trembling hand rose to touch her face. Smooth skin. Silken hair. A reflection in the mirror beside the bed showed not Dr. Laurine Samaniego… but a delicate young woman in royal nightgown, wearing a ring adorned with a glowing purple gem.
Her voice came out in a whisper.
“Don’t tell me… I’m inside the book?”
The Doctor Who Wished for One More Life
The sirens wailed.
The world spun.
And Dr. Loraine Samaniego felt the sky collapsing around her.
She had saved countless lives before—patients who had clung to her hands with tears of hope, strangers whose hearts she had restarted when everyone else had given up. She was the prodigy doctor, the youngest Nobel Prize winner in medical history. Yet now, as the metal of the plane groaned and the air masks dangled uselessly, she realized there was no one left to save her.
“Please…” she whispered, her trembling hands pressed together. “If there’s a chance… let me live. Let me still help people… anywhere. Just give me another chance.”
The next thing she knew, everything went black.
. . .
When her eyes fluttered open, the scent of roses and honey filled the air.
Golden curtains swayed gently, and the light that poured in wasn’t fluorescent—but warm and divine, like the touch of a sunrise.
“Huh…? Where… am I?”
The bed beneath her was soft—too soft. The ceiling above her gleamed with gilded patterns, cherubs, and painted clouds. This wasn’t a hospital room. This was—
“Your Highness! Princess Celestee, you’re awake!”
A girl in a maid’s uniform rushed to her side, eyes welling with tears.
Princess… Celestee?
Amethyst blinked, her pulse racing. No way.
That name—she knew it. From the old romance novel she used to read during breaks between surgeries. The one where the princess with silver hair and violet eyes died in the first chapter, poisoned before the story’s true heroine appeared.
Her trembling hand rose to touch her face. Smooth skin. Silken hair. A reflection in the mirror beside the bed showed not Dr. Laurine Samaniego… but a delicate young woman in royal nightgown, wearing a ring adorned with a glowing purple gem.
Her voice came out in a whisper.
“Don’t tell me… I’m inside the book?”