A crash came from behind a privacy curtain, followed by a string of colorful curses. The curtain was yanked aside with enough force to nearly tear it from its track, revealing a petite woman with long black hair and striking hazel-gold eyes with vertically slit pupils.

She wore a lab coat over what appeared to be a black corset and torn fishnets, looking more like she belonged at a goth concert than in a medical facility. A stethoscope hung around her neck, and various surgical tools filled the pockets of her lab coat, their metal handles glinting menacingly.

"Carmen!" Dr. Sandoval's face lit up with genuine delight, her unusual eyes glittering with an enthusiasm that seemed at odds with her punk-rock appearance.

"Is it that time already? I thought your liver didn't need testing until next week. I've got a new compound I'm dying to try—might even regrow that liver of yours without all those pesky side effects." She wiggled her fingers, adorned with chipped black nail polish and several ornate silver rings.

"Not for me this time," Carmen jerked her thumb in my direction. "New kid got on Braxton's bad side. Possible concussion, definitely some bruised ribs. You should see the other guy, though."

She winked at me. "Oh wait, the other guy is fine. Because he's an A-rank and you're... whatever you are."

Dr. Sandoval's cat-like eyes landed on me, and her expression shifted to something predatory and intensely curious. Her pupils contracted to thin vertical slits, then dilated again, as if physically adjusting to take in more of me.

"Oh my. The viral sensation himself. In my infirmary on day one." She clapped her hands with genuine glee, the sound sharp and jarring in the sterile environment. "How wonderfully problematic of you!"

She glided toward me with a grace that seemed supernatural, covering the distance between us in seconds. Up close, her presence was even more imposing despite her small stature. She peered up at my face, her eyes unblinking and inhuman.

"I'm Dr. Tessany Sandoval. You can call me Dr. Death if you'd like. Most students do." Her voice carried a slight accent I couldn't quite place, melodious and sharp at the same time. "Though personally, I prefer 'Your Highness' or 'Supreme Medical Genius.'"

"Satori Nakano," I replied, trying to maintain my composure despite the growing certainty that I was in the presence of a beautiful madwoman with access to scalpels. "And I'd rather not be on a first-name basis with Death just yet."

"So polite! Most of Miller's victims come in cursing." She snapped her fingers, pointing to an examination table that looked suspiciously like it had restraints attached to its sides. "Sit. Now." Her tone shifted from playful to commanding in an instant, the authority in her voice making both Emi and me straighten instinctively.

I sat on the edge of the table, every muscle in my body protesting the movement. The metal surface was cold through my uniform, a stark contrast to the warmth of Emi's lap.

Emi hovered nearby, looking uncertain, her healing aura dimming as she wavered between continuing to help and staying out of the doctor's way.

"You," Dr. Sandoval pointed at Emi with a pen that looked disturbingly like a miniature scalpel, "Blue-hair. Healer, right? I can smell the mana signature from here. Like fresh-cut grass and sunlight. Aura type?"

Her eyes narrowed, studying Emi as if she were a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope. "Recovery rate? Duration limits? Do you experience sympathetic pain transference when healing deep trauma?"

Emi nodded timidly, clearly intimidated by the barrage of questions. "Yes, ma'am. [Aura of Respite]. I can maintain it for about thirty minutes before exhaustion sets in. And yes, sometimes I feel echoes of what I'm healing, especially with nerve damage."

"Interesting. C-Rank healing with high utility potential." Dr. Sandoval tilted her head, her gaze so intense it seemed to physically press against Emi. "Rare to see a pure support type these days. Everyone wants to blow things up." She made a dismissive gesture. "Violence is so unimaginative.

True power lies in rebuilding, not destroying." She turned back to me, her expression sharpening again. "You're welcome to stay and assist, Blue-hair. I always appreciate another set of hands, especially ones that can actually help."

Emi brightened at this unexpected validation, moving closer to the examination table. "I'd be happy to help! I want to learn as much as I can about healing techniques."

Carmen rolled her visible eye, the motion exaggerated enough to be seen even behind her sunglasses. "Great, I'll leave you to your mad science. Don't turn him into a monster, Tess." She gave a lazy wave and sauntered out of the infirmary.

At the door, she paused and looked back at me. "Kid, if you start growing extra limbs or developing a taste for human flesh, come find me. I know a guy who can... handle that sort of thing." With that ominous parting shot, she disappeared.

Dr. Sandoval turned her full attention to me, those unnatural eyes gleaming with an intensity that was equal parts scientific curiosity and predatory interest. "Now then, let's see the damage."

She reached toward my uniform top. "This needs to come off. Immediately. I can't diagnose through cotton, unfortunately. Trust me, I've tried."

I raised an eyebrow, maintaining my composure despite the growing unease. "Shouldn't you buy me dinner first?"

"Cheeky," she grinned, revealing teeth that seemed just slightly too sharp to be entirely human. "I like that. But I don't date specimens. Professional ethics and all that." Her smile widened.

"Also, I have a very strict three-date minimum before I let anyone see my collection of preserved Gate-spawn organs."

She helped me remove my uniform top, her hands surprisingly gentle despite her manic energy. The fabric stuck to the dried blood in places, and I couldn't suppress a wince as she peeled it away.

The cool air of the infirmary raised goosebumps on my exposed skin, highlighting the already-forming bruises across my torso—an impressionist painting in purple, blue, and yellow. Emi gasped softly at the sight, her eyes widening with concern.

Dr. Sandoval's eyes widened too, but with fascination rather than concern. She leaned in close, her breath warm against my skin as she examined each injury with the enthusiasm of a child discovering a new insect species.

"My, my. He really didn't hold back, did he? I'm actually impressed you're conscious." She pressed a finger against my ribs, causing me to wince as a shock of pain radiated through my chest. "Two cracked ribs, minor concussion, contusions along the intercostal muscles." She glanced at my face, tilting my chin with cool fingers to examine my nose. "And a deviated septum. Impressive first-day collection. Most students don't achieve this level of catastrophe until at least midterms."

Her eyes suddenly shifted, the hazel-gold irises glowing slightly with an internal light. She stared at me with an intensity that made me deeply uncomfortable, as if she could see through my skin to the organs beneath.

Which, given what I knew about Aspects, was entirely possible. Her pupils dilated to perfect circles, then contracted again to vertical slits.

"Fascinating," she murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Your mana channels are... unusual. Almost as if..." She trailed off, then shook her head, the glow fading from her eyes.

"Never mind. Let's fix you up."

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