Medical Center. Rooftop.
"Miss Carlton, please don't do anything rash."
Adam stood on the stone ledge at the building's edge, speaking calmly as he inched closer.
"Don't come any nearer, or I'll jump!"
Middle-aged Carlton, a person of ambiguous gender, turned back and thrust out a hand in warning, stopping Adam in his tracks.
"I know you're hurting, but please don't gamble with your life like this."
Adam was close enough now. In a split second, he calculated the distance in his head and felt confident he could act if needed. But he didn't move just yet. If he could talk Carlton down with some emotional support, he'd rather avoid a dramatic rescue scene. After all, he could save them once, but not a second time. The best outcome would be convincing Carlton to let go of those suicidal thoughts.
"I can't keep pretending to be a woman anymore," Carlton said, glancing back with a pained, bitter smile. "But being a woman is all I've ever wanted."
"Who says you can't be a woman?" Adam countered gently. "This world isn't as hopeless as you think. As long as you're here, there's hope."
"There's no hope left. Everyone looks down on me." Carlton let out a hollow laugh. "Even you doctors and nurses—I'm so tired of those looks."
"That's not true," Adam replied, though inwardly he cursed John Carter for being too young and wearing his emotions on his sleeve, which had clearly worsened Carlton's state. Still, he kept his face steady and smiled. "I've got a best friend whose dad is just like you. Back in the day, he didn't get his dad either. But years later, when he got married, he flew to Las Vegas to have his father at the wedding. In the way his dad wanted—walking down the aisle with him, arm in arm, alongside his mom. I'm not trying to brag, but I had a little something to do with them patching things up. So, no, I don't judge you. A few people's opinions don't speak for everyone."
Carlton couldn't help but look over at him.
"You might've heard of him—Helena, the Las Vegas drag queen," Adam added, borrowing a bit of Chandler's dad's fame for the moment.
"I know her," Carlton said with a faint smile. "She's lucky. She's so beautiful that when she walks out, almost no one can tell. They all think she's a real woman. But how many people can be that gorgeous? Look at me! How could I ever compare to her?" They gestured at their body with a bleak chuckle.
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Adam paused, at a loss for words. It's true what they say—people's values often follow their looks. If you're pretty enough, the world bends for you, no matter how twisted things get. Chandler's dad was "beautiful" in the eyes of the world, and that's why he could live so freely. Without that, the constant scorn and disgust would've worn anyone down—depression would've set in, and freedom would've slipped away.
"I used to have a best friend," Carlton said, wiping a tear from the corner of their eye with a sad laugh. "We'd have lunch together, go shopping, hang out. One night, we were drinking, and I opened up to her about everything. She got up and left. Never spoke to me again. I used to think stuff like that made me stronger, made me more sure of who I was. But now? It takes me three hours to put on makeup just to step outside. I pluck, I shave, I do everything—and still, people can tell. I see it in their eyes, the disgust. And they're right. I'm disgusting."
"I'm so sorry, Miss Carlton," John Carter called out from a distance, his voice thick with guilt and shame. He'd heard this story during the stitching process and had tried so hard not to look at Carlton, terrified his face would betray the very disgust and aversion they were talking about. Because, honestly, he did feel it.
"It's fine," Carlton said with a faint smile. "You're not the first, but I hope you're the last."
John Carter looked like he was about to lose it. From the sound of it, he might've just become the final straw that pushed Carlton to jump.
"Miss Carlton, even if you won't think of yourself, think of others," Adam said, shifting the topic. "There are people down there going about their day. If you jump, it's not just you who might die—some innocent person could get crushed. Is that what you want?"
"That's God's problem," Carlton replied, glancing down below. "If God brought me to this point, then God's responsible for whatever happens next." With that, they spread their arms and tipped backward off the edge—just like Lin Qingxia's iconic cliff-jump as Dongfang Bubai in the movie. Even that smile looked eerily similar.
"Damn it!" Adam had seen it coming. In an instant, he kicked into bullet-time mode, sprinting forward at full speed. As he lunged, his super-genius brain still had time to rant internally: I'm absolutely asking you later if you were cosplaying Dongfang Bubai! It was 1998, after all—Lin Qingxia's Swordsman films had already come out. And with Carlton's lifelong wish to be a woman, Adam had every reason to suspect they'd seen the movie and put themselves in that role.
Just in time, Adam's hand shot out and grabbed one of Carlton's legs midair. When he saw their smile widen, his mouth twitched. "I want you to remember me forever…" Carlton murmured the classic line, then swung their free leg toward Adam in a kick. Without some mystical martial arts power to defy Newton's laws, they couldn't exactly palm-strike him from midair.
"Enough already!" Adam snapped, cutting them off mid-line. With a grunt, he yanked Carlton back by the leg, hauling them onto the rooftop floor. You think you're Dongfang Bubai? Well, don't turn me into Linghu Chong! Carlton hit the ground, their unfinished line hanging in the air, a stunned look on their face. Then a sharp pain shot up from their calf. "Ahh!" they cried out. When Adam had pulled them back, he'd deliberately used extra force, snapping their leg—not just out of frustration at their antics, but also to give them some forced downtime to rethink their life choices.
Adam smirked to himself, but his expression shifted as he noticed something: Carlton was wearing only one high heel. The other one…
Downstairs, Hospital Entrance.
Barney was being wheeled out in a wheelchair. "This is amazing! Look at me—I can finally walk again! Back on the field, back in the game! This is so freaking exciting—it's like a miracle from above! AHHH!!!" He leapt up from the chair, planted his feet on the ground, tightened his tie, and turned to his African-American brother James, who'd come to pick him up. He launched into an ecstatic speech, then grabbed James in a hug, shaking with joy as he roared out his pent-up excitement.
"Chill out, Barney," James laughed.
"AHH! …Ah…" Barney's triumphant yell cut off abruptly, replaced by a scream of a very different kind. He collapsed in a heap.
James froze, jaw dropping.
It was something from above—but not a miracle. A single high heel had plummeted from the sky and smashed right into Barney, knocking him out cold.
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