Chapter 775

Stephanie’s injuries were severe enough to be called catastrophic.

She had been nearly cut in half—a method of execution that, centuries ago, would have been a slow and agonizing death sentence. The victim would bleed out over a prolonged period, suffering through terror and unimaginable pain.

Fortunately, Stephanie was not living centuries ago.

And given where she was being treated, dying was going to be surprisingly difficult.

Moira was currently Umbrella’s chief physician. She had always been an exceptional biochemist, but after discarding the ethical and moral restrictions that had once limited her research—and conducting countless experiments that no decent human being would ever consider acceptable—her medical expertise had advanced by leaps and bounds.

Calling her a miracle worker would not have been an exaggeration.

Moira was not merely skilled at treating trauma. She had also made breakthroughs in numerous areas of medicine that modern science still considered unsolved problems. After all, one of the fundamental requirements of the human evolution she pursued was immunity to disease and injury.

At this rate, Moira was practically preparing to publish several papers, announce several groundbreaking discoveries, and start collecting Nobel Prizes.

The Eredar Twins had even generously told her she could keep the prize money for herself. Compared with the advantages having a Nobel laureate would provide when Umbrella sought investors and expanded its influence, those awards were pocket change.

There was something deeply ironic about it.

A woman who had almost completely abandoned her humanity, who considered inhumane experimentation an ordinary part of her work, and who insisted that medicine was ultimately a branch of science had developed technologies capable of saving countless lives—achievements that many doctors who devoted themselves to the principle of "first, do no harm" had never managed to reach.

It raised an uncomfortable question.

Did morality and ethics actually contribute anything to scientific progress?

But that was a philosophical problem for another day.

The practical reality was that, in Moira’s hands, as long as a patient still had a pulse, there was a good chance she could drag them back from the brink.

And if Stephanie did happen to die, there was still Evenson standing around. He wasn’t exactly useless.

Inside Moira’s laboratory—calling it a medical ward would have been misleading—the doctor and several assistants worked beneath harsh surgical lights. All of them wore white coats and masks as they moved around the operating table.

Several hours later, Stephanie was out of immediate danger.

Her vital signs had stabilized.

She had even regained consciousness.

The automatic doors opened, and Evenson stepped into the laboratory.

Moira immediately left the operating table, removed her mask, and quietly briefed him on Stephanie’s condition. Evenson listened, nodding occasionally.

When she finished, he waved a hand.

Moira and the other medical staff left the room.

Evenson sat down outside the transparent isolation barrier. A speaker carried his voice into the room, stripping it of most of its natural warmth.

"You’ve regained consciousness?"

Stephanie was lying facedown on the operating table, her body secured in place. Since the injury was on her back, the position was necessary for treatment.

She was also completely naked.

Under normal circumstances, Evenson might have appreciated the view.

This was not one of those circumstances.

Stephanie’s current condition was simply too grotesque.

The enormous wound across her back had not been stitched closed. Moira had actually enlarged it during surgery to gain access to the damaged tissue. Bone and internal organs were visible beneath the surgical lights, while several transparent tubes disappeared into the wound.

Stephanie had lost an enormous amount of blood, so transfusions were still being administered.

And Boris’s strike had completely destroyed both of her kidneys. Her metabolism was now being supported by external machinery.

Evenson stared straight ahead.

"I’m very sorry this happened," he said, sounding almost like he was reading from a prepared statement. "I never expected someone among your people to behave like that. We should have taken better precautions. That’s my responsibility."

It sounded like an admission of fault.

It wasn’t.

The man who had kidnapped her and nearly cut her in half had been one of Hydra’s own. Evenson wasn’t about to take responsibility for that.

Stephanie’s face was pressed downward, her head immobilized by a metal frame. She had only just emerged from heavy anesthesia and was still badly weakened from blood loss.

Whether she had missed the implication in Evenson’s words or simply didn’t have the energy to care, she didn’t pursue it.

Instead, she asked weakly,

"That bastard... what happened to him?"

"Dead."

Evenson answered without hesitation.

"Hmph."

Stephanie took a sharp breath and opened her eyes.

There was pure hatred in them.

"Too good for him."

"Ms. Stephanie," Evenson said calmly. "Instead of worrying about what happened to him, you should probably worry about yourself. You don’t seem to understand the extent of your injuries."

Stephanie didn’t.

She remembered being struck.

After that, everything had gone black.

She could feel nothing below her chest and had assumed the numbness was simply the anesthesia.

She had no idea that her body had nearly been severed in two.

"The wound was extremely deep," Evenson explained with remarkable lack of concern for the patient’s emotional state. "If a little tissue hadn’t remained connected, your upper and lower body would have separated completely."

Stephanie’s breathing stopped.

"Several internal organs were severely damaged. More importantly, your spinal cord was completely severed."

"What...?"

The word barely escaped her lips.

Stephanie’s already pale face went even whiter.

Her lips trembled.

The internal injuries were frightening, but they could be treated. Even if an organ was beyond repair, someone with her wealth and connections could obtain a transplant.

Her spine was different.

A completely severed spinal cord meant paralysis.

High-level paralysis.

She would never walk again.

Only hours ago, Stephanie had been thinking about eventually taking over her father’s position and turning herself into one of the most powerful figures in the world.

Now she was being told that she might spend the rest of her life unable to care for herself.

The cruelty of it almost broke her.

"Fix me!"

Stephanie desperately tried to turn her head, only to find the metal brace holding her firmly in place. She managed to shift her eyes far enough to catch a glimpse of Evenson’s legs.

"You have to fix me! Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you!"

For the first time, emotion entered Evenson’s voice.

Unfortunately, it was not reassurance.

"That..." He paused. "May be difficult."

That was her last lifeline.

Stephanie wasn’t willing to let go of it.

"With your company’s capabilities, there’s really something you can’t do?" Her voice became increasingly desperate. "I told you. If you can fix me, I’ll pay any price!"

Umbrella specialized in biotechnology.

They could clone humans.

They could manufacture biological weapons.

They could transform ordinary people into superhuman soldiers.

Compared with all that, repairing a spinal injury should have been child’s play.

Stephanie assumed Evenson was simply trying to drive up the price.

"Hmm."

Evenson tapped his fingers against the armrest.

"I can grow an apple tree. I can eat an apple. But that doesn’t mean I can peel an apple without breaking the skin."

Stephanie stared blankly ahead.

"The human body is no less complicated than the universe. Even our company wouldn’t dare claim that we’ve mastered every secret of it. When a critical component breaks, repairing it can sometimes be harder than building an entirely new system."

He paused.

"The spinal cord contains an extremely complex network of nerves. Completely restoring it is extraordinarily difficult."

Stephanie’s hope began to collapse.

So that was it.

Her future really was over.

She would spend the rest of her life as a cripple.

She was furious.

She was terrified.

And then she noticed something.

Evenson had said difficult.

He had said extraordinarily difficult.

He had never said impossible.

A tiny spark of hope returned.

"What... exactly is difficult?"

"What makes it difficult?" Evenson echoed.

He shifted his eyes.

That was an inconvenient question.

He certainly wasn’t about to explain the entire situation.

"That’s complicated. It would take too long to explain."

He casually brushed past the question.

"But given that our negligence contributed to you facing this unfortunate situation, we do feel responsible. We can’t simply leave you to deal with it alone."

He leaned back.

"So we’ve prepared two solutions for your current condition. Would you like to hear them and decide which one you want?"

"Of course."

If Stephanie hadn’t been strapped to the operating table, she probably would have been nodding frantically.

"What are they?"

"The first option is relatively simple."

Evenson slapped a hand against the armrest and stood.

"It’s also rather crude."

Stephanie’s heart sank.

"Your spine is broken. So we’ll remove it."

She stared.

"What?"

"Where it’s broken, we’ll cut it away."

Stephanie’s expression turned horrified.

Cut it away?

She was already paralyzed. If they simply removed the damaged section, what exactly would be left?

A human-shaped torso?

Evenson continued before she could protest.

"Fortunately, our company has a prosthetics program. You should know about the vice president’s younger daughter. She has one of our mechanical legs. According to the follow-up reports, they gave it five stars."

Stephanie’s eyes widened.

"So we can build you a larger prosthetic system."

Evenson’s tone became almost cheerful.

"It would interface directly with your brain through a mechanical neural network. You’d be able to walk normally. You could even run. Jump, too."

That did not make Stephanie feel better.

A mechanical body was still a mechanical body.

Even if it looked perfectly natural, even if it restored her mobility, it was still a sophisticated replacement for something she had lost.

In her mind, that made her no different from a cripple using an exceptionally advanced wheelchair.

And there was another problem.

The level of amputation required would destroy her ability to have children.

Stephanie’s expression hardened.

She could not accept that.

"What is the second option?"

Her voice was quiet.

But all of her remaining hope was concentrated in those words.

"The second option is considerably more complicated."

Evenson already knew the first proposal would never satisfy her.

It had never been the real solution.

The real solution had always been the second one.

He looked at her through the isolation barrier.

"Biological Cradle technology."

Stephanie’s eyes widened.

Evenson smiled.

That was where things were about to become interesting.

...