Just another COTE one shot book

Life Expectancy

Today is a monotonous routine. My internal clock wakes me, and the sight of the detached scientists greets me. They remain silent observers, treating me as a mere subject—a tool for their scientific pursuits. Contrarily, I have accepted my fate without complaint after all, I learned a great amount here.

I prepare for my routine physical examination.

Under their watchful eyes, my abilities are tested and pushed beyond the usual boundaries. Normally, I effortlessly exceed expectations, but today is different.

The moment I began my exercise, something changed. My heartbeat echoed in my ears, a thunderous rhythm that grew more erratic with each passing second. My throat constricted, a vise tightening around my ability to speak or call for help. Each footfall felt heavier, dragging me down into an abyss of discomfort. A part of me believed that if I slowed down, maybe the pain would subside. But as I fought against my body's rebellion, a wave of excruciating agony shot through my limbs, robbing me of strength. I was paralyzed, frozen in time, spiraling toward an inevitable darkness.

And then, all at once, it stopped. The frenzied beating of my heart quieted, and I crumpled to the floor. The world faded into a blur, the bright lights of the room swallowed by shadow.

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It's been about six months since my heart attack.

My student status in the white room had long since been revoked. I had been marked as yet another defective product. with my expulsion, the fourth generation's ranks are officially zero. And although I'm out of the white room, I am now confined within new white walls, these belonging to a hospital room.

During my six-month hospital stay, there were only a handful of times when I left the room unsupervised. At least in The White Room, I was still engaged in activities and learning new things. However, now, I find myself with nothing to occupy my time, truly idle.

I came to terms with my situation pretty quickly. Severe Arrhythmia, an uncommon condition, causes abnormal heart activity, including excessively fast or slow heartbeats. It can be fatal.

Apparently, I had it for a long time, and they said it was a miracle I was still alive.

And if that's true, that means the white room definitely knew I had it too. They were probably testing how far my body would go until I broke. I wonder why they even bothered to send me to this hospital. They could have very easily let me die. Well, I suppose having to cover up a death is way more trouble than it's worth. There were no fatalities in the white room itself, although I figured out some of the former fourth-generation students committed suicide shortly after being expelled.

When I first arrived here, the cardiologist informed me that if my surgery and treatment were successful. However, the surgery had complications and left a significant scar.

My medical condition makes it difficult for me to move about, even to the bathroom, due to the severe pain I experience. Moreover, I lack knowledge about the outside world, having never seen it before. This makes me uncertain about where I should go after leaving this place, but I remain confident in my ability to survive. If I'm not confident in my abilities, what else is there for me to be confident in?

My stay at the hospital was relatively unremarkable, but one memorable experience was watching television for the first time. Unfortunately, the limited channel selection quickly diminished my interest. Similarly, the book collection primarily consisted of manga and smaller books geared toward a younger audience. I suspect that there may be a more diverse selection of books available at the hospital, but I did not have the opportunity to explore them because of my age.