"How dare you blame me for everything that's happened! It's your negligence, you bastard! You're nothing without your money, you have no worth without your wealth. You're nothing but a flawed human being!"
The room descended into chaos as Emilia's onslaught continued. Her fists rained down on Jansen, fueled by a burning desire for retribution. The guards struggled to contain her, their efforts bordering on desperation. Jansen, trapped in a whirlwind of pain and anger, could do little but endure the relentless barrage of Emilia's fury.
In a fit of rage equal to Emilia's, Jansen struck her square in the face with a powerful, devastating punch that sent her crumpling to the floor, unconscious.
Despite ending in Jansen's favor, the fight left him in even greater pain. Various parts of his body throbbed with agony, and he couldn't help but question whether this could be considered a victory when the very symbol of his masculinity had been taken from him.
"Aaaa! You damn whore!" Jansen clenched his fists, pounding them against the floor until his IV came loose, dripping blood in a not insignificant amount. His frustration and anguish filled the room, echoing the shattered remnants of their previous lives.
"Sir! You mustn't harm yourself," the nurse pleaded as she rushed back into the room, her eyes wide with concern.
The nurse frantically tried to restrain Jansen, fearing that he might further harm himself. She called for assistance over her walkie-talkie, hoping that security personnel would arrive soon to help manage the situation. Her heart raced as she struggled to maintain some semblance of control in this chaotic scene.
Meanwhile, on the rooftop of the hospital, a terrifying silhouette loomed. It was a monstrous figure, standing tall amidst the darkness.
Every aspect of its body had undergone thrilling modifications, enhancing not only its strength but also its stamina.
The entity, whose existence had been irrevocably altered by a single victim, surveyed the city below with a calculating gaze. Malphas, for that was its name, muttered to itself in contemplation.
"One victim alone has transformed me like this," it mused, its voice a chilling blend of humanity and something otherworldly. "What if there were more? After all, I've only claimed a single truck driver so far."
On the rooftop, the monstrous figure continued to stand, its modified body glistening ominously under the moonlight.
The air was charged with an eerie energy, as if the very environment responded to its malevolent presence.
As the figure contemplated the power it had gained from a single victim, a sinister grin, or perhaps the closest thing it had to a grin, spread across its inhuman face.
Down in the room, Jansen's anger and frustration had given way to exhaustion. He slumped onto the hospital bed, breathing heavily, his body battered and bruised.
The nurse, relieved that he had stopped harming himself, quickly checked his injuries and adjusted his medical equipment.
The hospital staff finally arrived in the room, ensuring Jansen's safety and preventing any further self-inflicted harm.
However, little did they know that a far more sinister threat loomed above, on the hospital rooftop, where the monstrous entity plotted its next move, fueled by a thirst for power and destruction.
***
Emilia's face, marked by a terrible disfigurement, and her superficial beauty that sadly faded away, were nonetheless, insufficient to deter her from relishing her prized collection of premium and designer items.
Such physical impediments could not possibly prevail, could they?
Having efficiently navigated the labyrinthine procedures of hospital administration to cover her medical costs, she found herself liberated to revisit and rediscover the indulgences she had once zealously reveled in.
The echoes of her opulent lifestyle, which had unequivocally distinguished her as a sophisticated and glamorous woman, gradually started to resurface in her sartorial choices.
Every outfit she assembled was the outcome of a meticulous selection process. Each apparel, combined thoughtfully with complementing accessories, culminated in a refined ensemble that was a celebration of her distinctive fashion sensibility.
Her wardrobe, a treasure trove of haute-couture clothing, exquisite pieces of jewelry, and unique accessories, did much more than augment her visual appeal.
It served as a tangible reminder of the soaring heights she had scaled in the past and the dazzling existence she once reveled in — remarkably unaffected by the shadow of the grievous incident that left her altered.
As she went about her days, her beautifully tailored outfits attracted second glances from passersby, not only because of her changed physical state but also because of the radiant confidence she exuded.
Though all the stares might seem condemning, Emilia remained unfazed. That is, until a scruffy little boy intentionally shouted loudly about her appearance, "Mom, look at that lady! Her face looks creepy like a monster. But she's wearing nice clothes, did she steal them from a fairy godmother?"
The mother was enveloped in a mix of awkwardness and discomfort as her child's question rang out, oblivious to the nuances of politeness and tact.
She watched her child, a young one but seemingly mature enough to discern what might hurt another person's feelings.
Her initial reaction was a blend of surprise and concern. Suppressing her initial discomfort, the mother took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully.
She gently guided her child to apologize to Emilia, understanding the importance of empathy and kindness in such situations.
With a reluctant sigh, her child approached Emilia, their small voice barely audible as they mumbled an apology.
Emilia's response, a sardonic smirk that only accentuated her altered appearance, further unsettled the child. They had expected anger, maybe a reprimand, but this reaction was beyond their comprehension.