Terminal Paradise Seamstress

In the final stages of a terminal illness, my family abandoned me and threw me into a horror game.

[Another one here to die. I bet she won't last the first night.]

[Just listen to that cough. I'm scared she'll die right inside my phone.]

On the first night, the head nurse made her rounds, prepared to execute any player whose heartbeat was abnormal. My heartbeat remained steady only because my body was too weak to fluctuate—and I even helped her sew up the tear in her uniform.

"Miss, your clothes are torn. You'll get cold. If I mend it for you, you won't be cold anymore."

On the second night, the surgeon swung his scalpel, determined to cut away anything imperfect.

I handed him a wrist guard I'd made myself, watching his trembling hands. "Doctor, your talent shouldn't be buried by pain."

…

On the final day, the ultimate Boss gave me a choice: leave with a healthy body, or stay and perish with these strange beings.

Back in the real world, the parents who had abandoned me were suddenly in tears, begging me to come home and split the money.

I smiled and said to the creatures inside the instance, "I choose to trade my life… for a home for all of you."

The next second, a burst of golden light erupted from the system.

[Congratulations, player. You have triggered the one and only hidden ending—Divine Redemption.]

I stood in the vast, empty lobby of a hospital, a cobweb-covered chandelier swinging precariously from the ceiling above.

[Welcome to the S-Rank Instance—Saint Anna Hospital.]

[Objective: Survive for seven days.]

[Initial players: 10. Wishing you… an enjoyable game.]

The system's cold, mocking voice faded from my mind.

Around me, the nine other players' expressions shifted from confusion to fear, then settled into pure despair.

"An S-Rank? A hell-difficulty stage right from the start?" one stammered. "A hospital… this is where the creepiest things happen! We're dead!"

At the same time, my personal livestream screen flickered to life. A handful of sparse comments popped up.

[Another batch of newbies. They won't last the first day.]

[Classic old map, Saint Anna. 99% fatality rate. Can't wait to see the head nurse turn these newbies into pincushions again.]

[What's with the girl in the hospital gown? She's white as a ghost. Is she an NPC?]

The other players instinctively huddled together to discuss strategy, leaving me standing alone. In my hospital gown, with a face as pale as paper, I was dead weight—a obvious liability.

Sure enough, a burly, hostile bald man stomped over, his eyes full of disdain.

"Hey, sick girl," he barked, jerking his chin toward my backpack. "Whatever items you've got in there—hand them over. In a place like this, trash like you is just wasting resources."

Others quickly agreed. "He's right. Look at you… Give us your stuff, and we might protect you for a little while."

I didn't argue. I simply unzipped my backpack.

There was no food, water, or weapons—only rolls of colorful fabric, a wooden sewing kit, and sketchbooks filled with clothing designs.

"These are what I need to finish before I die," I said, pointing. "Do you want to take them, too?"

The bald man faltered, his expression twisting. After muttering a curse, he spat on the floor and walked away.

I zipped my bag back up, hugged it to my chest, and found a corner far from the others. I threaded a needle and began quietly sewing a tiny doll's dress, shutting out the world.

This was my final wish: to open a tailor shop filled with clothes made by my own hands before I completely rotted away. Even in this nightmare, I could at least keep stitching.

The livestream chat stirred briefly at the sight.

[What's with this girl? It's an apocalypse game and she's doing crafts?]

[Her mentality is amazing… Or she's just completely given up.]

[Looked her up. Her name's Cassidy, twenty. Late-stage lymphoma. Her family abandoned her.]

[Makes sense. For her, where and how she dies probably doesn't matter anymore.]

[Why does this suddenly feel so sad…?]