August 8, 1975. Inside the clinic of Stonehill Commune, located in Yorwick County, Solara Province.
When Evelyn Ford regained consciousness, the first thing she heard was a solemn voice beside her.
"I'm sorry, but you brought her in too late. We've done everything we could. Please... prepare for the funeral."
These words—typically spoken by doctors to grieving families—rang oddly in Evelyn's ears.
She distinctly remembered her last moments in the apocalypse. To protect the base she had built with her own hands, to shield thousands of survivors who depended on her, she had perished alongside the Zombie King. Her body had been obliterated in the explosion. There was nothing left to be saved.
How could she possibly be in a clinic, being declared dead?
As confusion swirled in her mind, a cacophony of distressed voices erupted around her.
"Doctor, please! You have to try again!"
"Doctor, she was brought here late because she risked her life saving someone. She's a volunteer sent from the city! If she dies, how am I supposed to explain this to the higher-ups?"
The young male doctor, his voice tinged with regret, repeated himself. "I'm truly sorry. By the time she arrived, she had already stopped breathing. There was no heartbeat. We did everything we could, but... it was too late. Please, prepare her final arrangements."
As Evelyn listened, she instinctively reached out with her spiritual energy.
A clear, holographic-like image of her surroundings formed in her mind, much like the battlefield scans she had mastered in the apocalypse.
She saw the doctor, a young man in a white coat, sigh and step out of the room, leaving behind a group of four people.
A middle-aged man, likely in his fifties, with a tanned face and a solemn aura, stood at the forefront. He carried himself with the authority of a village leader.
Beside him were two younger men and a delicate-looking woman with fair skin.
They all seemed visibly shaken by the doctor's words, their eyes red-rimmed, staring at her lifeless body in disbelief.
Then, the woman suddenly burst into loud, wailing sobs.
"Evelyn! Evelyn, how could you leave us like this? How could you just die?! What are we supposed to do now?!"
She threw herself onto Evelyn's body, clutching her tightly and shaking her with forceful, almost violent movements.
Evelyn, just barely regaining her breath after whatever had happened to her, felt a searing pain in her chest as the weight of the woman nearly crushed her ribs. A sharp ache shot through her body, and for a moment, she almost lost consciousness again.
This woman's crying sounded so incredibly fake.
A drama queen? Here?
Was she seriously trying to shake a dead body?
The sheer force of her actions, the thinly veiled malice beneath her grip, made it clear—this woman wasn't mourning. She was taking pleasure in it.