Alexander entered the hospital wearing a hazmat suit. Anastasia had already received emergency treatment; the doctor diagnosed her condition as non-severe but noted her symptoms stemmed from long-standing obesity and its complications. Although she had lost weight, she remained overweight, and her cold and fever had weakened her. After intravenous treatment, the nurses transferred Anastasia to a quiet VIP ward. She was alone.

Alexander instructed his men to ensure his isolation, preventing contact with others and maintaining secrecy.

Anastasia lay in bed, on IV drips, eyes closed and seemingly asleep. Alexander stood by the bed, quietly studying her pale face, her dry lips, and the dehydrated appearance punctuated by red spots on her skin. The doctor attributed the spots to the fever, but Alexander instinctively knew otherwise. Though not a physician, his experience suggested Anastasia's symptoms were not consistent with a common cold or fever.

Anastasia frowned and slowly opened her eyes, likely due to medication, but remained dazed, closing them again shortly after. She opened them once more, realizing her location. Her gaze met Alexander's, eliciting a startled scream, "Ah!"

"It's me," Alexander said calmly, aware of their privacy. His men had secured the area, ensuring their seclusion.

The familiar voice quelled Anastasia's scream. The lack of any response—not even a footstep—to her cry further confirmed her isolation. She stared at the man in the hazmat suit, focusing on his eyes.

After a moment, she tentatively called out, "Alex?"

Alexander nodded. "Yeah. Sorry to show up like this. How are you feeling now?"

"I..." Confused, Anastasia paused. "Where am I? Why am I... oh, I'm in a hospital?" Her memory flooded back.