A woman sat on a tattered mattress, an unfortunate sight. She looked like nothing less than a junkie, dressed up in raggedy brunette hair, trailer trash chic clothing and a body shaped like a slab of beef.

She was pregnant, almost ready to give birth. To make matters worse, she held another baby, clearly not hers, in her arms. Crying and starving, the infant cried for her mother's milk, but the mother found it hilarious, teasing the poor child.

Then the scene suddenly changed. The newborn baby was nowhere to be seen, and the pregnant woman was struggling on all fours.

The door leading to the surgical bay was too tempting to ignore. She took a deep breath and opened the door. Inside, she saw a cyborg surgeon facing away from her. The surgeon was completely engrossed in their work and completely unaware of the intruder's presence. The surgeon, who made countless of medicine, now appeared as nothing more than a flesh robot, had control implants sticking out of his shaved scalps. The whole scene had an eerie and somewhat unsettling quality.

She froze in her tracks, heart pounding in her chest, as she watched a shadowy figure emerge from the darkness. As the figure drew closer, She saw that it was a tall, pale man with a grim, expressionless face. He was staring straight at her, his piercing eyes pierced her soul. And it wasn't the surgeon.. or was it? With haste, the woman made her way to her room, limping. Her ears were ringing and bleeding, and her senses were completely out of whack. Despite her best efforts, she could not ignore the agonizing pain in her ears and her vision was becoming blurry red.

Back to the surgeon, he took a book from his desk and opened it, studying the pages intently. Inside was a plan, a design, a manual of how to perform a certain surgery. Each word, each letter was studied intently and with reverence, as if the book was an ancient text written by the gods themselves

He rose from his chair, a sense of determination upon his face.

He headed towards his wife's room. He took a scalpel, and in the darkness, he quietly crept towards her. He turned on the light. While she remained fast asleep, something about her was different this time. There was something strange about her... something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He bent down close to her as he studied her face. Then, at a different angle, he noticed something. Her eyes were open, and she was looking at the ceiling, staring at the dark, her gaze unfocused.

Then, her eyes shifted from the ceiling to him. It appeared that she had seen him, but not as her husband or the surgeon she knew. Instead, to her, he was an unknown creature of ill intentions and malice, an inhuman with intentions unknown to her and with a sinister edge to his eyes. The fear was palpable as she looked at him, her gaze piercing, searching for the truth behind his face.

Was he imagining it? Or was this the moment when everything changed, when everything went from perfect to imperfect? I suppose even their marriage was imperfect from fhe beginning.

"Who was Cecilia?" The wife didn't seem to remember her name.

"She w4s the sun, the l1ght of this c0ld univ3rse." The cyborg laughed, but there was an element of disgust and love in its voice, as the stars tried to comfort them, but one by one, the constellations disappeared; Cecilia's soul was there, and never again.

Well, no matter how bright she shined— no matter how much she resembled the sun; She was made of cracks from the moon.

And so her legs crumpled and her neck misplaced, her words twisted worse than the scattered parchment that echoed through deaf ears yet trembling eyes

Their children were born to have been hung up on the chandelier. As they were the chandelier themselves, their body floating like an illusion though the sticky crimson fluid dripped mercilessly down her cheek, but not more than the flow from her stomach. The crimson blood seeped onto bedsheets  yet the white dress remained pure and untouched. Her hair covered her face, hiding her senses as much as her features, and her hands hovered as if in a trance. She lay motionless, a bloody portrait of a silent tragedy.

The latter stared at the surgeon, and with a devilish grin on her face, she spoke, "Riddle me this, if those are my children shaped from my womb, have you took them directly from my stomach?"

"We will all be together soon." the cyborg said with a sadistic smile, as he began to tear his wife's dress and rip open her stomach. "My white lady.."

the white dress was torn open, revealing her pale, mechanical body and organs beneath.

"I don't like that answer so much, dear" The lady stood up and lunged forward with her pointed nails, aiming for the cyborg's face. And when she took ahold of it she took his flesh she gave him no time to react. Without a moment's hesitation, she went straight for his chest. With a brutal motion, she took his heart, replacing hers with his, and she became darker with cold void, her eyes dull, her face expressionless, and her sanity below the level.

She then heard a familiar music box played its melodic tones, the blood still dripping, she felt an urge to regain her humanity. She missed the company of her family, and their warmth. However, the reality of her current situation dawned on her, and she realized that she had turned into a cold-hearted machine, deprived of genuine emotion and attachment, and her longing to feel human again seemed like a distant dream.

"There is much one can do for their loved ones," she told herself. And with a new found determination, she decided to look for more body parts, so she could regain herself. But before she could pursue this endeavor, she took a chair and removed her babies from the chandelier. The taking of flesh that was pierced from the spiked made a horrific sound. It was an otherworldly scream, filled with pain and despair. The sound was deafening, haunting and unnatural. It could cause shivers to run down the spine and gave the listener an unpleasant feeling of dread and fear. The sound was almost unbearable, and it seemed to last an eternity. But for the lady, it sounded like her children. And she smiled, though this time it wasn't in satisfaction but in agony.

She kissed them softly, wishing for their laughter to echo throughout the room again, but she knew that in order for that to happen, she had to become human once more, and in order to do that, she had to replace the parts of herself that were missing.

She took their bodies and placed them back on her lousy womb. However, she quickly realized that the heads were too large to fit with the rest, A sickening smile spread across her face, and her empty, lifeless eyes lit up.. so she decided to eat them, She won't leave a single part of her children alone.

The pristine white dress she once wore was now stained a deep red, its pure color now replaced by the blood that had been spilled.

The lady was left confused and bewildered. Why was it that her blood didn't spill, while her children's did? It couldn't be... surely not... She realized, with a sickening feeling in her stomach, that her husband had already taken her blood.

So she opened a new quest, a search for blood, it may not be hers but if it is close to it, she will take it.

If you cross a dying road and a lady in white with its crimson hue starts walking in limp, You may ignore her. But she is walking towards you. You may encounter her close and she may ask a question. You shouldn't answer it is her trick. Don't run, her legs is a machine and even if you outrun her, that means your legs are worth to steal. Don't outsmart her, that means your brain is worth to eat. As long as you sing the hymn of the song, your life is guaranteed safe. 

Though if you still lived without humming, your life will be her guitar and when she strums the strings, your life will slowly be devoured into a deep grave in a hole you were forced to dig.

Beware if she weeps, but be most aware if she finds your organ fit for her soulless frame.

Riddle me this, Are you a friend... or a foe.

Á̶̢̨͚̙͎̺̞͖̭̽͌̑̿̃́̒̒͒̿͂̈͝ͅG̵̡̼͍̭͕̤̜̠̪̺̘̋̌̋̈̿̚͜Ḥ̴͇̜͖͖̦͈͓̱̪̒́̈́̈̓́́͒̊͑̿̋̕͜͝͠H̵̘͍͉͓̙̰͉͖̫̪̬̲̬̿̋̕̕͝Ĥ̷͚̱̻̝̀̀̄̈̿̑̿̓̈́͐͆̕H̴̥̬̰̬̯̭̣̰̜̰̃̀́́̎͆H̶̛͓̓̀͂̀̂̿̄̓͘̕ ̵̧̡̢̡̗̻͍͔̩̺͓͖͉̘̓̆̕