Day 2: Prognosis

Write a scene wherein a medical professional gives a serious prognosis to the point of view character, with a focus on the pov’s mental state and response to this news.

Tags: Unbelievably Trashy, Insane Otome Sysadmin, We all deserve something painfully indulgent sometimes, Lowkey Body Horror?, Necessarily Kinda Meta, Ruby Connection {Cecilia de Silva(Luna, fave is “Star☆Magnolia”) inhabiting the first daughter of the Count of Beñarxus, {Sancho de Silva, Grandee due to past marriage with a now broken engagement with a duke’s daughter (Claudia of House Averess, Duchess of Spechona)}, Robin (Maid / Childhood Friend type), Princes (Efraín {Red, Chivalrous Type}, Laurentino {Blue, Knowledge Type}, Marcos {Green, Kindhearted Nature-y Type} of House Osuna, ruling family of Arcurias, heir to the Crown Urbane)}

 [Skipping the revelatory moment makes the most sense. The appointment is still significant and important, so we’ll go there. Showing how the MC has coldly gathered information will make her come off as much more competent.]

A light peaks through the dreamy mist. When you open your eyes, you half expect to see the foam ceiling of your old apartment.

“Ah! Contessa!”

You’ve yet to be that lucky. A startled nurse reaches your side right as your migraine picks back up. Under dim lighting, the shady xenodochium out back of the royal academy looks almost presentable. She wipes at the thin film of sweat covering your face and offers you another poultice, which you make a slight motion to refuse.

It’s been about 60 days since you found yourself here, pulled into the world of ‘Ruby Connect’, a mostly forgotten, deeply scummy otome game from the early 2000s. The memory has faded some since your arrival, but you know you were reviewing the game for your fave’s upcoming stream. Before you could deliver your notes, you took ill, and, when you tried to sleep it off, you ended up here. None of your initial escape plans succeeded, so you’ve been biding your time and observing, in hopes a way out might show itself at the story’s end.

Events have been playing out mostly identical to the game’s plot, and you’ve been using that to your advantage, hoping to dodge some of the more tasteless and dangerous events. You’ve minimized contact with the love interests as best as you can, and you even managed to get out of the unavoidable charity ball event, the supposed ‘dark turn’ for the narrative. Since the game’s free time events are almost entirely designed for ogling princes, you’ve been spending them in your room with Robin, the maid / childhood friend type whose sole purpose is tutorializing the game’s arbitrary skill system and dropping hints about what gifts Prince Laurentino may like. (Books. It’s almost always books.)

None of this is without cost, though. The longer you ignore your romantic options, the worse your character’s sickly disposition becomes. You never reached it, but you remember hearing about an ending where the main character falls ill, spending the rest of her days in hospice. While you likely haven’t reached all the flags for that ending, you’ll likely need to adjust your strategy to avoid them. Thankfully, your current doctor’s visit should count for the post-ball examination scene, and, with a clean bill of health, there should be no danger in humoring the intended romantic paths.

The doctor finally returns to break you from your reverie. He wrings his hands and flits between awkward smiles and worried glances. Once he settles on something in between, he politely dismisses his nurse and addresses you directly.

“Contessa Cecilia… I have completed our office’s standard tests, but I worry this news is not as you have hoped. Are you sure you feel well enough to hear it?”

You push down the strange smile rising to your face as you mouth each word in the doctor’s line along with him. In the original script, this encounter would reveal the crass act two twist of the game. With all your careful plans, you’ve eliminated any chance of entering that plotline. There’s an almost grim giddyness  around you, wondering just how the scenario might adapt to your tinkering. You try and force an in-character response.

“Please. Don’t fret over my feelings, doctor. I am certain I would rather hear it now.” You try and mimic the ‘stoic yet demure’ look you memorized from your many replays. It doesn’t feel quite right to contort real human face muscles that way, but you assume you’ve come close when the doctor gives you a pitying smile.

“Of course, my lady.” He sits.

You try to center yourself. Even when the result is so clearly stacked in your favor, you struggle to keep your nerves in check. This moment is intended to be a low point for ‘Cecilia’, and you can’t detach yourself nearly as well when ‘her’ fate is your own as well.

“My lady…”

Doubt creeps in. For just a moment, the facade cracks and you’re just a real, scared girl. That’s all that it takes for all your plans to drift out of reach.

“You are… of course… with child.”

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…

The doctor watches you close. He likely expects you to cry. Maybe, scream. At the very least, he expects a reaction out of you. Instead, you’re simply numb. This body… it’s not even yours.

You believe you’ve begun to weep, based on the doctor’s reaction. When you push yourself to your feet, he tries to protest, but whatever expression is on this face you wear… it stops him in his tracks. No one else tries to stop you on your way out.