Just as Schiller sank into thought, he suddenly heard a loud thud from behind him, followed by Strange's curse.
Schiller immediately headed for the operating table. As soon as he got there, he saw the woman strapped to the bed struggling desperately, blood pouring from the wound they had just treated.
"Anesthetic! More anesthetic!" Strange shouted.
But Schiller grabbed him and pulled him to his side. "Something's wrong."
Strange noticed it too. The woman's eyes had begun to glow red, fangs continuously sprouting from her open mouth as gray fur spread wildly across her face and limbs.
"A werewolf," Strange suddenly said. "That bite mark wasn't left by a werewolf, was it?"
"I'm afraid so. She was infected." Schiller had expected it.
Strange cursed, his expression turning icy. He was clearly furious. Anyone would be enraged after working so hard to save someone, only to have it all come to nothing at the very last moment.
"Don't get near her," Schiller said. "It'll be trouble if we get bitten too."
Unexpectedly, the woman showed an expression of extreme agony. "Kill me... Kill me, quickly! I was bitten... Kill me!!!"
With a wet squelch, a long blade plunged into her eye socket. Schiller twisted his hand, and brain matter mixed with blood spilled out. The woman jerked violently, then slammed back onto the bed, utterly silent.
The two looked at the corpse on the bed and said nothing.
"We can't throw another one into the fireplace," Strange finally said. "All the shadows in the room are starting to get strange, and the temperature has dropped quite a bit. It might be a side effect of failing too many times."
"We didn't fail." Schiller untied the ropes around the woman. "The game never said we had to cure the patients. Giving them