Gunshots. One after another. Sansiro didn’t stop. Vitto lay motionless, blood pooling beneath him, warmth fading as the world blurred into silence. Darkness claimed him—heavy, endless. Then… Beep. Beep. Beep. A slow, mechanical rhythm dragged him back. Light burned through his eyelids. Heaven? No… heaven wouldn’t hurt like this. Pain tore through every inch of his body, sharp and unforgiving. His breath caught—and then the smell hit him. Sterile. Bitter. Hospital. He was alive. By some impossible miracle, he had survived. Later, the doctors would tell him the truth: multiple gunshot wounds, massive blood loss… and odds he should never have beaten. If he hadn’t been found when he was—if fate had hesitated for even a moment—he would’ve been dead. Only God could’ve pulled him back from that edge. And now, awake once more, the real question remained… Why was he spared?