My spirit, tethered to Liam, was pulled along with him to the forensics lab.

Sophie followed close behind.

The lab was a whirlwind of activity, and no one seemed to notice anything unusual between the two of them.

An emergency briefing was called to discuss the remains that the homicide detectives had just brought in.

The body was a partial limb, just recovered from the lake.

As the most brilliant young M.E. in the department, Liam was naturally assigned the autopsy.

Sophie, as his assistant, was there to help him and record the findings.

The moment we stepped into the autopsy suite, my heart clenched with a strange tightness.

It felt like it stopped for a few seconds, then began to pound violently.

Liam changed into his blue scrubs, his movements calm and practiced as he approached the steel table.

On the table lay the remains: a single lower leg.

It was bloated and white from being in the water.

Combined with the recent heat wave, the skin tissue was severely damaged, and the wound where it had been severed by a sharp tool was already starting to rot.

An overpowering stench of decay filled the room.

Sophie, trailing behind him, took one look at the leg and her face went pale as a sheet.

She shut her eyes and turned her head away.

Her small body trembled, and she bit her lip in disgust.

"So gross."

It was just the two of them in the autopsy room.

Liam didn't have to worry about his colleagues' eyes on him.

He pulled her into his arms, his hand gently rubbing her back as he murmured, "Don't be scared. It's just a body. I'm right here with you, aren't I?"

His touch was slow and gentle, like he was calming a frightened animal.

His voice was a mix of adoration and exasperation.

"You're so timid. How am I ever supposed to let you handle a case on your own?"

Sophie’s glistening eyes were full of dependence and admiration.

"Then... just keep me with you forever, okay?"

Liam's brow furrowed for a second, but he still nodded.

What I didn't expect was that the moment the fine, sharp scalpel touched the flesh on the table, a searing pain shot through my own leg.

The pain was so intense my scalp tingled, and even deep breaths did nothing to lessen the agony.

Liam's deep voice, distant at first, cut through the thin air and slammed into my ears like thunder.

"Right tibia length is 40cm. Based on femur-to-stature formulas, the victim's height was around five-foot-five."

"Significant adipose tissue, defined external contours... victim is female."

"Bone density analysis indicates the victim's age is between 25 and 28 years old."

It felt like I'd been suddenly thrown into a freezing ocean.

My head was splitting, as if it were being hammered by something heavy.

The blood in my veins turned to shards of ice, the sharp points piercing my skin.

My mind went completely blank.

For a moment, I couldn't hear a thing.

The pain.

The height.

The gender.

The age...

The limb on that steel table.

It was mine.

The world spun around me.

The bright fluorescent lights overhead stabbed at my eyes, making them ache.

Tears streamed down my face, fat drops falling silently onto the gleaming, sterile floor of the autopsy room.

I was dead.

And I had died in the most brutal way imaginable.