บททั้งหมดของ COLD STEEL, BLEEDING HEARTS : บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

The light above the surgical table was almost blinding. Maya tried to turn her head, but she couldn’t. Cold metal clamps locked her skull in place. She tried to lift her arms, but thick leather straps kept her wrists pinned to the sides of the table. The air stung with sharp chemicals—and something sweet, too, the smell of deep sleep that makes you forget it all.“The patient is awake. Give her more of the gray ink,” a cold, familiar voice ordered.Slowly, Maya opened her eyes. The Architect loomed over her. He wasn’t wearing his gold crown now. He was in a red surgical gown, his face hidden behind a mask made of white bone. In his hand, he held a scalpel. It didn’t look like ordinary metal—it looked like a shard of a broken mirror, reflecting things that hadn’t happened yet.“Stop,” Maya said, her throat dry and scratchy, like she’d swallowed sand. “You can’t do this. We chose the long path. We chose to live the whole story.”The Architect leaned closer. His eyes, through the mask, w

The glass didn’t just feel cold—it felt like it was draining the life right out of Maya. She pulled her hand back fast, but her reflection didn’t budge. That “Other Maya” kept her hand pressed against the mirror. Those red eyes were glowing, sharp and mean.“Who are you?” Maya whispered. Her voice was thin and shaky in the empty metal tunnel.The woman in the mirror smiled, but not in a friendly way. It was the kind of smile a hunter wears after finally catching its prey. “I’m the version of you that follows the rules, Maya. I’m the one who stays in the hospital. I’m the one who doesn’t fall in love with ghosts or stories.”All of a sudden, red-eyed Maya punched the glass from the inside.CRACK.A web of fractures spread across the mirror. The tunnel shook. Steam blasted from the pipes above, screeching loud.“The Board is sick of your fighting,” Mirror-Maya said. Her voice echoed in Maya’s head. “They made a copy of you. A perfect, obedient Doctor. Once I step out of this mirror, thi

Maya kept her thumb pressed against the silver button on the remote. The air in the garden was way too sweet, like sunlight had cooked candy a bit too long. Just behind her, the little girl—the thing pretending to be her daughter—stepped closer. She moved like a puppet tangled up in its strings."Stay, Mommy," the girl said. Her voice was dead-on, like listening to a perfect digital recording. "Stay. Stay. Stay.""Maya, don’t do it!" Julian yelled.He was vanishing. His legs were already just a cloud of blue dots. He reached for her, but his hand slipped right through her arm like he was made of smoke. "If you break that remote, this version of us dies! Your parents... you’ll lose them forever!"Maya glanced at her father under the lemon tree. Aris Rossi was smiling, but his eyes wouldn't move. A butterfly landed on his nose, and nothing—no blink, no twitch. He wasn’t her dad anymore. He was more like a statue made from faded memories."This isn’t living, Julian," Maya whispered. Her

The iron key didn’t just change color—it got heavier, hotter, angrier. Julian’s hand burned, and the deep red glow from the key bled across the white floor, almost like someone dropped a pool of digital blood. On the other side of the glass, the businessman kept his hand on Maya’s shoulder and gave a slick, oily smile.“The Board really doesn’t appreciate intruders, Julian. Especially ones carrying a broken, dangerous file,” he said, sounding way too calm.“Break it!” Julian yelled right back.He slammed the red-hot key against the glass as hard as he could.BOOM.The noise was explosive, and while the glass didn’t shatter, a thick red crack zigzagged right where the key hit. The impact knocked Julian back—he slid across the floor, boots screeching.Inside the glass, Maya froze for just a split second. Her head tilted, and something pained slipped from her lips, but she didn’t turn around. Her eyes stayed locked on her screen, racing through lines of code.“She can’t hear you, but she

The heavy brass key felt icy in Maya’s sweaty hand. In the dim, red glow of the Story Farm, the tag that read "Master Override" burned like a tiny fire. Ahead of her, the Writer—the man she once called a friend—kept his electric gun aimed straight at her heart. His finger looked ready to pull the trigger."Drop it, Maya," the Writer said. His voice had changed; it was sharp and cold, like a prison guard. "That key isn’t for a character. It belongs to the people who built this world.""I am not a character!" Maya yelled. Her voice echoed off the walls and the thousands of glass pods in the dark hall. "I am a real woman! I have a life in Nigeria! I have a fiancé! I have my medical exams!"The Writer narrowed his eyes. "You remember those things, Maya. We gave you those memories so your writing would sound real. Nigeria is just a desert. The medical school was a computer game. You’ve been inside that glass pod since you were six."His words hit her like a punch to the stomach. Her knees