Rogers frowned and turned toward the celebration coming from the radio. Racer's blast into the park...
'Click.'
The white door swung open, and a white woman walked in.
She had wine-red curly hair and wore a vintage white blouse, a long skirt, and a dark brown tie around her neck.
Her lovely face was painted with lipstick that was a little too heavy but gave her a more spirited appearance. Her arched eyebrows made Captain Rogers's first reaction to mistake her for Agent Carter.
"Good morning—or perhaps I should say, good afternoon."
She glanced at her watch and spoke naturally. Everything about her seemed so natural and smooth.
But Rogers, who had only just awakened from his long sleep, eyed her warily.
"Where am I?"
"You're in a postoperative recovery room in New York."
The nurse smiled at Rogers as she spoke.
A gentle breeze blew through the room, even making the white curtains by the window billow. Everything was so ordinary.
'The Dodgers are leading eight to four! The Dodgers! What an absolutely incredible game, everyone...'
The radio never stopped playing, continuing to broadcast the baseball game live.
But that result made the already suspicious Rogers even more suspicious.
Rogers, who had spent so long racing across battlefields, sharpened his gaze. "Where exactly am I?!"
The female nurse said in a puzzled, soft voice, "I don't understand what you mean."
"This game is from May 1941. I know because I was there."
After hearing that, the female nurse, who had remained composed and believed she hadn't revealed any flaws, slowly lost the smile on her face.
Rogers stood up. His weight of over two hundred pounds made the small bed creak under the strain, and his massive, nearly six-foot-four frame slowly approached her.
"I'll ask one more time. Where