The morning started like any other—prayers, breakfast, morning chores.

  But when free time came, Lilith had a plan.

  She found Eve and Lysander in the common room, sitting together near one of the windows. Lysander was showing Eve how to fold paper into simple shapes—a skill he'd learned from one of the older children. Eve was watching with intense focus, her red eyes tracking every movement of his hands.

  "Eve," Lilith said, approaching them. "I'm going to go to the medicae ward for a bit."

  Eve's head snapped up immediately, her expression shifting to concern.

  "It's okay," Lilith said quickly, before Eve could protest. "I'm not sick or hurt. I just want to talk to Sister Marian about something. You can stay here with Lysander."

  Eve looked uncertain, torn between staying with her friend and following Lilith.

  Lysander, oblivious to the tension, smiled brightly. "Don't worry, Eve! We can keep practicing these paper shapes. And then maybe we can go to the library later!"

  Eve looked at Lilith, then at Lysander, then back at Lilith.

  "Okay," she said finally, though her reluctance was clear.

  Lilith smiled and patted her head. "I'll be back soon. Promise."

  "Okay," Lysander added cheerfully. "We'll see you later, Lilith!"

  Lilith waved and headed for the door, feeling oddly light.

  Eve's getting more comfortable being apart from me. That's good. She needs friends besides just me.

  As she walked through the orphanage corridors, Lilith noticed something strange.

  She felt... happy.

  Not just content or relieved. Actually happy.

  There was a lightness in her chest, a spring in her step, an almost overwhelming urge to—

  Am I about to skip?

  The realization hit her with startling clarity.

  She wanted to skip down the hallway like a child without a care in the world.

  What is wrong with me?

  But even as she thought it, she couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at her lips.

  She felt like a kid.

  Because technically, she was a kid. This body was five years old. The brain chemistry, the hormones, the way emotions worked—it was all calibrated for a child.

  I've been fighting against it this whole time, she realized. Trying to think and feel like an adult in a child's body. But maybe... maybe it's okay to just let myself feel what this body naturally wants to feel instead of stressing but I do need to be careful.

  She turned a corner and nearly bumped into Sister Prudence.

  "Oh! Good morning, Sister Prudence!" Lilith said brightly, her voice carrying an enthusiasm she hadn't intended.

  Sister Prudence stopped, her stern expression shifting into something that might have been surprise. One eyebrow rose slowly as she looked down at Lilith.

  "Good morning, child," she said carefully, studying Lilith's face. "You seem... energetic today."

  Lilith's smile didn't falter. "I'm feeling good! And I have plans for today!"

  Stop talking. You're babbling like an actual five-year-old who just learned to talk properly.

  Sister Prudence's other eyebrow joined the first, both now raised in an expression that clearly said this is highly unusual behavior.

  "I see," she said slowly. "That's... good. It's good to see you in high spirits, Lilith."

  There was a pause.

  "Are you certain you're feeling well? No lingering effects from your fever?"

  "Nope! I'm totally fine! Better than fine, actually!" Lilith beamed at her. "I'm going to the medicae ward to talk to Sister Marian about something!"

  "Are you," Sister Prudence said, and it wasn't quite a question.

  "Yep! See you later, Sister!"

  Lilith waved—actually waved like an excited child—and continued down the hallway.

  She made it about ten steps before the full weight of what she'd just done crashed down on her.

  Oh God. Oh God, what did I just do.

  She'd been... bubbly. Energetic. Childishly enthusiastic.

  To Sister Prudence. Sister Prudence. The stern, serious, no-nonsense nun who'd probably never seen anyone act like that in her entire life.

  Lilith's steps faltered. Slowed. Stopped.

  Heat rushed to her face.

  I greeted her like an overexcited puppy. I practically bounced. I WAVED.

  The embarrassment hit her like a physical force.

  She looked around to make sure no one was watching, then dropped to her knees right there in the corridor, covering her face with both hands.

  Why did I do that? What is wrong with me?

  But even through the embarrassment, part of her recognized the truth.

  That was genuine. That enthusiasm, that happiness—I actually felt that.

  And it felt... good. I hate that I like it.

  But also mortifying.

  She knelt there for a solid minute, face buried in her hands, trying to will the heat from her cheeks.

  Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. It's fine. Sister Prudence probably just thinks you're having a good day. Which you are. It's not that weird for a child to be cheerful, right? Right.

  ...She definitely thought it was weird.

  Lilith groaned softly into her palms.

  Finally, she forced herself to stand. Composed herself. Smoothed down her robe.

  No more bouncing. No more waving. Act like a normal person. A calm, collected, definitely-not-mentally-twenty-three person.

  She resumed walking—calmly, sedately, with all the dignity she could muster.

  The medicae ward wasn't far now.

  Just pretend that didn't happen. Move forward. Focus on the goal.

  I am never greeting Sister Prudence enthusiastically again.

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  The medicae ward was quiet when Lilith entered, the familiar smell of antiseptic and herbs filling the air.

  Sister Marian was at her desk, making notes on a data-slate, her weathered face focused in concentration.

  She looked up when Lilith entered, and her expression immediately brightened.

  "Lilith! What a pleasant surprise. How have you been, child?"

  "I'm good, Sister!" Lilith said, then caught herself. Calm. Normal. Not bouncing.

  "I'm doing well," she corrected, her tone more measured. "Really well, actually. I feel great."

  Sister Marian chuckled softly, setting down her slate. "I can see that. You have color in your cheeks and energy in your step. It's wonderful to see you recovered so completely."

  She gestured to a chair. "What brings you to the medicae ward? Surely not a check-up."

  Lilith sat, suddenly feeling more nervous than she'd expected.

  "Actually, Sister, I wanted to ask you something."

  "Of course. What's on your mind?"

  Lilith took a breath. "I want to learn about medicae. How to treat injuries and illnesses. How to help people who are hurt."

  Sister Marian's eyebrows rose—not in the same surprised way Sister Prudence's had, but with genuine interest.

  "Oh? That's quite an ambitious goal for one so young." She leaned back in her chair, studying Lilith thoughtfully. "What prompted this interest?"

  Lilith's expression turned serious, the childish enthusiasm from earlier completely gone.

  "I want to keep Eve safe," she said simply. "I want to be able to help her when she needs me."

  Sister Marian was quiet for a long moment, her sharp eyes searching Lilith's face.

  "That's a noble goal," she said carefully. "What could medicae knowledge offer her?"

  "I want to be helpful to Eve and to also protect her if I can. I think this is the best way to do it, to learn about medicae."

  Sister Marian nodded slowly, clearly impressed by the thought Lilith had put into this.

  "Caring about Eve. That’s admirable," she said. "But let me ask you something else."

  She leaned forward, her gaze intent.

  "Will you help others as well? Or is this knowledge solely for Eve's benefit?"

  Lilith didn't answer immediately. She thought about it—really thought about it.

  The easy answer would be to say yes, of course she'd help everyone. That's what a good person would say. That's what Sister Marian probably wanted to hear.

  But Lilith had learned the hard way that lies, even well-intentioned ones, had a way of collapsing when you needed them least. An experience that she always encountered back in her past life.

  So she told the truth.

  "I'll help as much as I can," she said slowly, meeting Sister Marian's eyes. "If someone's hurt and I know how to treat them, I will. I'm not going to watch people suffer if I can do something about it."

  She paused.

  "But Eve is my priority. If I have to choose—if there's ever a situation where I can only help one person—I'm choosing her. Every time."

  Sister Marian's expression remained neutral, giving nothing away.

  Lilith continued, the words coming more easily now.

  "And I know I can't help everyone. I'm not going to pretend I can. I'm just one person with limited time and limited knowledge. If I try to save everyone, I'll end up saving no one. So I'm going to focus on what I can do. Protect the people I care about. Help others when it's possible. But not sacrifice myself or Eve for strangers."

  She took a breath, feeling oddly exposed by the admission.

  "Is that... bad? Does that make me selfish?"

  Sister Marian was silent for a long moment.

  Then, slowly, she smiled.

  "No, child. That makes you honest. And practical."

  She stood and moved to one of the cabinets, pulling out a worn leather-bound book.

  "Most people your age would have said 'yes, I'll help everyone' without thinking. They'd make grand promises they couldn't keep. Or they'd throw themselves into impossible situations out of misguided nobility and get themselves killed. You really are quite mature for your age."

  She set the book on the desk between them.

  "But you need to understand something that takes most people decades to learn. Experience is key and it is something that you can’t learn from mere words and books. And you need to remember that you cannot save everyone. You cannot be everywhere at once. And trying to do so will only result in failure and grief."

  Sister Marian sat back down, her expression warm despite the gravity of her words.

  "Your priorities are clear. Your expectations are realistic. Those are rare qualities, especially in the young. I admire that."

  Lilith felt something tight in her chest loosen.

  "So... you'll teach me?"

  "I will teach you as much as I can," Sister Marian said with a nod. "But you must understand—I am not a trained medicae in the Imperial sense. I have practical knowledge accumulated over decades of service. Field medicine. Basic treatments. Herbal remedies. Things that work in an orphanage."

  "That's fine," Lilith said quickly. "Any knowledge is better than none. And practical experience is worth more than theory anyway."

  Sister Marian chuckled. "Spoken like someone who's seen the gap between ideal and reality."

  She pushed the book toward Lilith.

  "This is a basic medical text—old, worn, half the pages are water-damaged and the illustrations are crude. But it covers fundamentals. Anatomy. Common injuries. Basic treatments. Start reading this. We'll discuss what you learn."

  Lilith took the book reverently, running her fingers over the cracked leather cover.

  "Thank you, Sister. I'll read it carefully."

  "Good. And we'll begin practical lessons as well—how to clean wounds, how to make poultices, how to identify infections. Simple things first. We'll build from there."

  Sister Marian's expression turned serious again.

  "But I want you to promise me something, Lilith."

  "What?"

  "You're learning this to help. To heal. Not to harm." Sister Marian's eyes were sharp. "Knowledge of anatomy can be used to save lives. It can also be used to end them more efficiently. The line between medicae and harm is thinner than people realize."

  She leaned forward.

  "Promise me you'll use what I teach you for good. To help those who need it. Not to cause pain."

  Lilith met her gaze steadily. "I promise, Sister. I'm not interested in hurting people. I just want to protect the ones I care about."

  "Good." Sister Marian nodded, satisfied. "Then we begin today."

  She stood and gestured for Lilith to follow.

  "Come. I'll show you the basics of wound dressing. We'll start with theory—understanding why we clean wounds, what causes infections, how the body fights disease. Then we'll practice on training dummies before ever touching a real patient."

  Lilith scrambled to follow, clutching the medical text to her chest.

  "You have dummies here?"

  "Of course. How else would I train? I can't practice sutures on live patients." Sister Marian pulled aside a curtain, revealing a side room Lilith had never noticed before.

  Inside were several cloth mannequins, various medical supplies, jars of herbs and substances, and diagrams pinned to the walls showing human anatomy in crude but functional detail.

  "This is my teaching space," Sister Marian explained. "I've trained several of the older children over the years in basic medical care. Most don't stick with it—medicine requires patience and attention to detail that few possess. But those who do become invaluable helpers."

  She pulled out a cloth dummy and set it on a table.

  "Now. Lesson one: proper hand washing. It seems simple, almost insulting to teach. But more people die from dirty hands than from the injuries themselves. If you learn nothing else from me, learn this—always, always clean your hands before touching a patient."

  Lilith nodded, absorbing every word.

  Sister Marian demonstrated the proper technique—thorough scrubbing, attention to under the nails, between the fingers, the backs of the hands.

  "Most people think they wash properly. They don't. Watch."

  She went through the motions again, slower this time, showing exactly how long each step should take.

  "Now you try."

  Lilith approached the wash basin and mimicked Sister Marian's technique, trying to match the thoroughness.

  "Good. Again. You need to do this until it's automatic—until you can't even think about touching a patient without washing first."

  Lilith washed again. And again. And again.

  By the tenth time, her hands were starting to feel raw from the harsh soap.

  "Excellent," Sister Marian said. "That's enough for today's hand-washing practice. Tomorrow we'll continue until it's muscle memory."

  She moved to the dummy.

  "Now. Anatomy. Look at this diagram here—this shows the major blood vessels in the human arm. If you cut here—" she pointed, "—the patient bleeds out in minutes. But if you apply pressure here and here—" she demonstrated on the dummy, "—you can stop the bleeding long enough to treat the wound properly."

  Lilith listened with rapt attention, her enhanced memory absorbing every detail.

  "The body has natural choke points," Sister Marian continued. "Places where pressure can stop bleeding. You need to learn where they are. For the arm, it's here, and here. For the leg, here, and here."

  She demonstrated each pressure point, having Lilith practice finding them on the dummy.

  "Now you might be wondering—why do I need to know this if Eve regenerates? Simple. Time. Every second she's bleeding is a second of unnecessary pain. Every wound that closes slower than it could is wasted regeneration energy. If you can stop the bleeding manually, her body can focus on deeper healing."

  "That makes sense," Lilith said, pressing her small hands against the dummy's pressure points.

  "Good. We'll practice this until you can find these points in seconds, even in the dark, even when you're panicking. Because in an emergency, you won't have time to think. You need to know."

  They continued for over an hour—Sister Marian demonstrating, Lilith practicing, questions asked and answered.

  Basic anatomy. Pressure points. How to identify different types of bleeding. The difference between venous and arterial wounds.

  It was overwhelming. Technical. Detailed.

  And Lilith loved it.

  This was concrete. Practical. Something she could actually do.

  Finally, Sister Marian called a halt.

  "That's enough for today. You've done well, Lilith. Very well. Most children your age would have lost focus after fifteen minutes."

  Lilith felt a flush of pride. "When's the next lesson?"

  Sister Marian smiled. "Eager, aren't you? Come back tomorrow at the same time. We'll continue. And read that book I gave you—at least the first three chapters. We'll discuss what you learned."

  "I will. Thank you, Sister. Really. Thank you so much."

  "You're welcome, child." Sister Marian's expression softened. "It's good to see someone so young taking responsibility for those they love. Eve is lucky to have you."

  Lilith clutched the medical text to her chest and headed for the door.

  As she left the medicae ward, she felt different than when she'd entered.

  Lighter. More purposeful.

  She had a goal now. A path forward that didn't involve running or hiding or desperately trying to survive.

  She was going to learn medicine. She was going to become useful. She was going to protect Eve not just through luck or outside help, but through her own knowledge and skill.

  It was a long path. A difficult one.

  But for the first time since waking up in this nightmare universe, Lilith felt like she was actually moving forward instead of just reacting to whatever horror came next.

  One percent survival odds, she thought as she walked back toward the common room. But I'm not just going to survive anymore.

  I'm going to learn. I'm going to grow. I'm going to become someone who can actually make a difference.

  Small steps. But steps in the right direction.

  That's enough.