Chapter 30: Lost Chapters [2]

  Estelle gasped sharply as cold, damp air rushed into her lungs. A grating pressure gnawed at her temples—persistent, maddening. Her body felt wrong—alien, heavy, as if she were drowning in a suit several sizes too large.

  She woke to the distant hiss of air fading into silence. Sensations arrived in scattered fragments—pressure against her ears, a prickle of temperature on unfamiliar skin, and then, at last, the silence itself, vibrating in her skull. The ambient whir of unknown machinery surrounded her, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic—a scent almost universal to medical facilities, no matter the location or planet.

  Half-formed thoughts drifted through her waking mind, her eyes still veiled in the dregs of sleep. 'Am I still dreaming? … No… That can’t be right. Did I fall asleep in the hospital again?'

  Her eyelids were like thick curtains, stubbornly drawn shut, resisting every attempt to open them. With a final effort, they obeyed. The ceiling snapped into focus: unnatural clarity, too sharp, too focused, too close for comfort. Or was it the closeness that made details appear in such high definition? She could make out every etching in the metallic plating above, count the tiny perforation her eyes should never have been able to detect.

  ‘This isn't right... Am I still dreaming?’ Her thoughts were sluggish, her focus slipping and sliding, drawn back again and again to the persistent throb in her temples. A low groan rumbled in her throat as she attempted to clench her fist.

  ‘No… vessel transfer. What was the name of this vessel? I don't remember,’ Estelle's thoughts scattered. "Too many options, I picked at random. Defective? I chose only humanoid blueprints. But they were all humanoid here."

  Anxiety tightened behind Estelle’s eyes. This wasn’t what she had expected. The mapping data and images she had studied had given her an impression of the facility’s layout—but not this tiny space. And she knew they hadn’t captured everything. What she had envisioned was different—too different. Worse, the heavy strangeness gripping her body only deepened her unease.

  ‘Am I inside a Sarcophagus?’

  Her gaze swept across the wall before her. She had expected the glass or transparent crystal—a window to the world beyond. Instead, metallic plating-like stretched across the surface, seamlessly shaped into a repeating pentagon pattern of glowing blue lines. The lines pulsed, shifting through the subtle gradients of its shades. The walls pressed in on either side—too close. Barely half a hand’s width remained between them, and if she stretched her limbs, her movement would be severely restricted.

  Then, something caught her eye—a jagged disruption at the front. A small section of the wall appeared damaged, the metal bent inward as if something sharp had pierced through from the other side. The glowing lines fractured into dark, chaotic scribbles.

  Estelle’s hand instinctively twitched toward her chest, searching for a wound—but her fingers met only smooth, unbroken skin. Flat and chiseled, her torso was marked by deep, unfamiliar contours. A sigh of relief slipped past her lips, only to catch halfway as a jolt of unease ran through her.

  Something was fundamentally different about this body, yet she couldn’t quite place what.

  Her brow furrowed as her hands drifted down her abdomen, seeking the familiar pockets of her pants. Her fingers brushed against something unexpected—a bulge where there should have been none.

  'A phone? Did I leave it in my pocket?' she wondered, reaching down instinctively.

  The moment her hand clasped around it, a jolt of unfamiliar sensations shot through her body, sending her waist into a slight squirm. Something long, firm yet yielding was now in her grip. Her eyes widened as understanding dawned, heat rushing to her face.

  “That is definitely not a phone,” she gasped, yanking her hand away as if scorched.

  Her voice—lower, rougher than she remembered—sent a chill down her spine.

  At that instant, Estelle froze, staring down at her body with a mix of horror and fascination. The realization settled in, undeniable and absolute. She finally understood what had changed—what had become so drastically different from her previous body.

  Her lips curved into an inward smile as she tried to maintain composure, but her heart thundered into her ears. The newly added feature twitched and grew beneath the fabric. Pressure built as her clothing tightened uncomfortably across her lower abdomen, and Estelle's eyes widened in disbelief. "Why is it getting hard!? WHAT!"

  A grind of her teeth accompanied her sudden outburst. Her hands curled into fists, glove fabric clinging tightly to her fingers. She muttered through a slurred lisp, 'Why... Why... Just why...? Fuck, I forgot to check the details of the vessel.'

  Clicking her tongue, she shifted her pants, attempting to reposition it without using her hands. ‘I should have double-checked. Damn it… Should I go back and change bodies? That will take some time to do…’

  She raised her pants, pulling them taut, and with a slight squirm of her waist the newly added feature finally unfolded—sliding across her skin with a strange intimacy. Estelle shivered slightly, nodding to herself. ‘That’s… interesting…’

  Abruptly, she slapped her cheeks, the sound sharp and loud. 'Okay, stop right there, Estelle. Let's not go there... for now.' Her lips widened. 'Let's get out of this sarcophagus and focus on important things. And then, we can inspect it. It's not like we haven't worked on reproductive organ details before—'

  Her thoughts fell into sudden silence. Her eyes found the ceiling, focused on the glowing geometric patterns, yet her mind felt distant. She swallowed, thinking, 'Though, I am really curious about it—' Estelle blushed, grinning, 'Oh my gosh, Estelle, stop this!'

  Her head snapped to the side as a hand struck her cheek, the sharp crack echoing through the air. A stinging warmth spread from her skin to her forehead, leaving her fingers tingling. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. Peering through her fingers at the ceiling, she gathered her resolve.

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  ‘Let’s continue… there’s still so much to do.’

  The motivation stirred her body, but inwardly, Estelle remained worried about her strange surroundings. Concerns about whether she was beneath the floor or stored in some inaccessible area swirled in her mind. She swallowed her anxieties and carefully reached to touch the ceiling's surface—only to notice the repeating geometric shapes abruptly stopping at a distinct area. Unlike the rest of the surface, this section was embedded differently, reflecting a sharp blue sheen.

  ‘A screen’ she jolted in realization.

  The space between her and the sarcophagus’s ceiling was larger than she had first thought. Even with her arms fully stretched, she couldn’t reached the top. Pulling herself up with the support of her other hand, she tapped the black screen with her dark navy blue gloved fingers.

  A fleeting thought crossed her mind: ‘Now that I think about it, I have my creator’s mark still. Can I still use it despite having a different body? I really forgot to check my new abilities,’ she mused. ‘I’ll take time to verify that later.’

  As she tapped the screen, the explosion of geometric shapes failed to register in her eyes. Instead, her attention fixed on her hands—larger, bulkier, lined with lean muscle. She flexed her fingers, clenching and unclenching her fist, studying the unfamiliar form. Only then did the screen flicker to life, casting a green holographic display.

  'It works,' she thought, feeling her stomach muscles strain from her current position. Hurriedly, she gestured on the screen, writing in the language of the Architects: [Command. Open the Sarcophagus lid.]

  Estelle fell back onto the soft bedding, feeling her hair crunch beneath her head. The fibers seemed unnaturally short—a consequence of her new body, she concluded. She watched the written text blur and dissolve within the display.

  She shook her head, hearing her hair scrape against the bedding. 'It’s been a while since I’ve had short hair,' she thought, her gaze drifting upward—just as the ceiling erupted into a new image. The metallic-like textures between the geometric patterns shifted, forming the silhouette of a person’s back.

  Estelle’s eyes widened as she tried to make sense of the scene. The geometric patterns remained, suspended between her and the figure—an unmoving form, still as a corpse. She swallowed hard, her gaze drifting beyond it, where the ceiling loomed high and the walls stretched into dimming darkness.

  ‘What is this?’ she wondered. ‘Am I… is this the view of the outside?’

  Those assumptions held her paralyzed until a sudden hiss of air jolted her alarmed. The ceiling—the view outside, along with the body—trembled slightly. Her eyes narrowed, biting her lips as concern wrapped around her face. The air dropped colder, more artificial, with an overwhelming stench of rust that assaulted her senses and provoked a sudden, violent cough.

  ‘What the fuck is this?’ she cursed inwardly, her eyes drawn to the gash in the ceiling.

  Unlike the crystal-clear view she had assumed, the area around the gash was tainted black—like a destroyed screen unable to render properly. Estelle bit her lip, feeling her limbs slightly tremble. Though she hadn't seen blood or wounds on the body above her, the implications of the scenario spoke volumes.

  She swallowed, tasting iron in her saliva. Shivering, she took deep breaths—once, twice, ten times—before pulling herself up and pressing her palms against the sarcophagus's lid. 'This is wild... I know the world is dangerous, but to be immediately greeted with some kind of conflict? This is just wild.'

  Summoning her strength, she pressed against the lid. There was resistance, but it felt as if the machinery was assisting her motion. She guided the lid carefully, mindful not to let it fall inside.

  As she moved, the body above wobbled lifelessly. The lid tilted, and the corpse slid across its surface before tumbling off with a heavy thud. The sound echoed in her ears—bones, the wet squelch of flesh—horrifyingly real. Estelle had no doubts now.

  But before she could fully process it, her distracted hands pushed the sarcophagus too far. The lid tilted further, following the body into the drop. Panic jolted through her limbs, her hands scrambling for purchase—but she was a second too late. The lid slipped from her grasp, crashing down with a dry, echoing thud.

  Estelle's shoulder flinched, her eyes narrowing. The room's ceiling stretched before her, surrounding walls glowing green with creviced patterns embedded like intricate greeble designs.

  She swallowed, kicking away the bed sheets and crawling to the wall behind her. Slowly seated within the sarcophagus's confines, the stench clung to her nose—a taste of iron manifesting in her mouth. She coughed, wincing and covering her nose. 'God... Did the body die days ago? Why does it stink so much?'

  Another gulp—instantly regretted. The air tasted sour and pungent, making her stomach churn and threaten to vomit. But she bit her lip, forcing herself to hold back. ‘I have to go. I can’t stay here,’ Estelle remarked, clutching the sarcophagus’s rim and pulling herself up.

  A long, winding corridor—or perhaps a tunnel—expanded before her. High walls adorned with greebling designs pulsed an alien green glow, the Architects' structural design philosophy oddly familiar and comforting. She shifted her attention, inspecting the room.

  Towering walls reached far corners, the last edges caught in the dim wall-pulse. Estelle spun her head, a sharp breath catching in her throat. A hulking statue protruded from the wall, looming before her—its jagged silhouette twisting out of perpetual darkness. Cold stone carved almost too lifelike, a hooded figure with a hollow darkness where a face should be. She shivered.

  Her heart unsteady, her eyes slowly lowered. "Oh," she muttered unconsciously. "Is that Esy2lymn?”

  She gulped. 'Makes sense. This building was made by Esy2lymn.’

  Her gaze drifted down, catching an oddity—a holographic screen, pure green without text or icons. From her knowledge, these were terminals for input commands. Its activation suggested someone had been here recently, perhaps just hours ago.

  As assumptions clouded her thoughts, movement caught her peripheral vision. Her head snapped around. A black-haired woman lay on the ground, blood dripping from her lips, light fading from her eyes.

  The woman gulped, mouth opening as if to speak. Before any words formed, she stopped—body going limp. Estelle's mouth fell open, surprised. 'That woman... she died. She just died.'

  Estelle’s mouth moved, opening and closing, but no words came. Thoughts blanked while her heart pounded loudly. "What..." she muttered, feeling heat leave her body, replaced by a numbing cold. "What should I do...?"

  Her thoughts slowly restarted, panic flooding through her arms and making her shake uncontrollably. 'What if someone comes? What if I get blamed? I'm an architect now—someone might realize who I am. I could be held responsible for their death. I literally just woke up... fuck, fuck, fuck. What do I do? I don't want to get blamed. I should transfer out quickly. I have to get out, I have to run—I have nothing to do with this.'

  Her vision blurred and refocused, blurred and refocused. She placed her strength in her arms, feeling cold nerves spreading through her limbs. She gulped—and then noticed something strange about the woman's body that drew her attention.

  The woman wore black drapes like long curtains wrapped around her body, with delicate frills of fabric. Her clothes and hair were wet, as if recently caught in a heavy rain. But what truly captured Estelle's focus was the woman's hand lying on the ground—a metallic arm, mechanical, its joints dripping with blood.

  Estelle muttered, “A… techpriest?”