If I hadn't insisted on saving him, Martin would've really died. Scarlett hated me because I saved him.

But there was still part of the story from my last life that didn't make sense. She had no reason to frame me for stealing from the department over this.

Suddenly, I thought of someone. Maybe his appearance wasn't a coincidence.

I watched Scarlett being punched and kicked by her mother. The scene looked eerily similar to the time when Martin chased me down to kill me.

Scarlett was being beaten so badly by her mother that her head was split open. Her body was pinned to the ground, unable to move.

The onlookers could only watch from a distance, afraid to step in.

They weren't exactly wrong. After all, getting involved might lead to trouble.

In this world, the simplicity of human nature was slowly fading away. The brave were often the first to have their wings clipped, so it was only right to keep one's guard up.

But watching Scarlett covered in blood, the fear of death surrounded me once again.

I was a doctor. I couldn't stand watching a living person die before me.

Throwing caution to the wind, I rushed forward and pulled the two of them apart.

With the advantage of strength on my side, I pushed Scarlett's mother back and signaled for someone to call the police.

Her mother kept struggling to break free while hurling vile insults.

Other doctors arrived and quickly took Scarlett, who had passed out, away on a stretcher.

Meanwhile, I kept her mother under control and handed her over to the police.

After Scarlett's wounds were tended, she slept through the afternoon, but it wasn't a peaceful sleep.

The beatings and verbal abuse from her childhood were like nightmares that strangled her neck, keeping her from breathing.

She kept muttering in her sleep, "No, don't come near me."

In her dream, she tried to dodge, only to be seized by the ankle by a demon and dragged back ruthlessly.

Unlike before, she showed distinct signs of resistance.

But when her mother had beaten her, she didn't resist at all.

This demon wasn't from her family.

Who was it? Who could that demon be?

She screamed, "Let me go!"

Then, she woke up with a start.

I stood at her bedside.

She had a concussion, which caused her vision to be temporarily impaired. She couldn't make out who was standing in front of her. She only knew there was someone in a white coat.

In an instinctive reaction, she bolted upright and huddled under the covers, looking absolutely petrified.

"Don't come any closer!" Scarlett's scream echoed through the room.

I spoke slowly. "Calm down. It's me."

When she heard my voice, she gradually relaxed. "Where's my mom?"

"I've handed her over to the police."

I stood with my hands in the pockets of my lab coat, watching her closely for her reaction.

"Who told you to call the police?"

Scarlett couldn't see me clearly, so she stared in my direction with a fixed gaze.

Look at her. There was always something detestable about those who were pitiable.

"Why did you send my mom to the police station? You'd better bring her back!"

I raised an eyebrow. "She assaulted you in the hospital, causing panic. Even if I didn't call the police, the security would've done it when they arrived.

"I could get your mom out by claiming she has mental health issues, and she wouldn't have to spend time in jail. But you'll have to agree to one condition."

Her expression turned cautious, like my words had hit a sensitive nerve. "What condition?"

"Tell me why you didn't want to save Martin."