The hospital was permeated with the smell of disinfectant everywhere.
["You are a mental patient. Remember, you must not let the medical staff detect any behavior that contradicts the traits of a mental patient. If discovered, you will be executed on the spot.
Bring out your best acting skills—only a mental patient can find a way to leave this hospital.
Good luck."]
Trembling, the person in the hospital bed stared at the letter in their hands.
Duan Shou distinctly remembered sitting on a plane just moments ago, bragging to his rowdy friends about how much money he had made that month and promising to treat them all to a meal when he got back.
But after blinking, he inexplicably found himself here, with this letter mysteriously appearing in his grasp.
Duan Shou had no idea what was going on, but the eerie silence around him told him that nothing here was normal. He was perfectly healthy—able to run, jump, and think clearly—so being labeled a mental patient made no sense!
This place gave him an overwhelmingly bad feeling. He had to find a way out.
Looking down, he realized he was wearing a white-striped hospital gown. He had no memory of when or how it had been put on him. Swallowing nervously, he gently pushed open the door and cautiously stepped into the pitch-black hallway.
The corridor was lit only by dim green emergency lights. Instead of providing comfort, the faint glow deepened the suffocating sense of dread.
Duan Shou lost track of how many stairs he descended or how long he had been walking. Strangely, no matter how far he went, the exit on the first floor never appeared—another sign that nothing here followed the rules of reality.
"What kind of mental patient? I'm a normal person! Let me out right now, or I swear I'll call my boys and make sure you regret this!"
A man's furious voice echoed through the empty hallway, accompanied by the violent sound of him kicking a door. Every word and action radiated rage—it wouldn’t be surprising if he pulled out a knife next.
Duan Shou valued his life too much to provoke someone like that, but he wondered if teaming up might help them both escape. Hiding behind a corner, he peeked at the source of the commotion.
On the other side stood a burly man with a menacing aura—clearly not someone to be trifled with.
Having spent time in prison himself, Duan Shou recognized the man’s short haircut immediately. This guy was either still serving time or had just been released—his thuggish demeanor suggested he hadn’t been "reformed" yet.
The muscular man had clearly been wandering for a while without finding an exit, and his frustration had boiled over into destructive rage.
The loud disturbance soon attracted the hospital staff.
"Patient 07, what are you doing?"
"It's late. Shouldn’t you be resting?"
Two nurses patrolling together appeared, their pristine white uniforms making them look like genuine angels of mercy. Their smiles were warm and kind—but upon closer inspection, the curves of their eyes and lips were identical, as if their expressions had been copied. The unnatural symmetry sent chills down the spine.
"Perfect timing!" Patient 07, used to bullying the weak, didn’t see the two women as a threat. "Who the hell are you people? Why am I locked up in this hospital? Whatever your game is, let me out now!"
He had ended up in prison for assault, and his violent aura alone was usually enough to intimidate ordinary people.
"Patient 07, have you forgotten?"
"You’re a mental patient receiving treatment here."
"It’s rest time for patients. Causing a disturbance is extremely inconsiderate."
"Patient 07, you should return to your room now."
The nurses spoke in unison, their cheerful tones laced with an unsettling edge. Their words carried an unspoken rule:
At night, patients must not make excessive noise.
Patient 07 only grew angrier. "I’m not a damn mental patient!"
The nurses blinked simultaneously. "Patient 07 isn’t a mental patient?"
"You’re the crazy ones! I’m normal!" He was now convinced that an old enemy had paid to have him kidnapped and tortured in this asylum.
The nurses’ smiles vanished.
"This is a mental hospital."
"If you’re not a mental patient, then there’s no reason for you to stay."
Patient 07 opened his mouth to retort—but then his neck went cold. His eyes widened in shock as blood sprayed into the air. The world tilted before him.
His head had been cleanly severed, thudding onto the floor.
Even in death, his eyes remained open, never comprehending what had just happened.
Duan Shou pressed himself against the wall, clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle any sound. His face was deathly pale, his entire body trembling.
Though he had broken the law before, this was the first time he had witnessed such a horrifying death up close.
Desperate not to draw attention, he stayed perfectly still, praying the nurses would leave. Just as he began to hope they were gone, an odd sensation prickled his skin.
Looking down at his hand under the eerie green light, he noticed something faintly glinting—thin strands, almost like silk, clinging to his skin.
He traced the strands with his fingers, realizing they were some kind of resilient, spider-like thread.
Following the threads upward, he slowly raised his gaze—first to the nurses’ retreating figures, then to the thin lines embedded in the backs of their necks, as if they were puppets on strings.
Finally, his eyes lifted further.
Above them, lurking in the darkness, was a pair of crimson eyes glowing with predatory hunger.
The moment Duan Shou locked eyes with them, his blood turned to ice.
He was doomed.
The eyes blinked.
The nurses turned in unison, their matching smiles widening as they advanced toward the cowering man.
Duan Shou’s legs gave out. He tried to scramble away, but something tangled around his ankles—more threads, tightening relentlessly.
As the shadow of death loomed closer, panic overwhelmed him. Tears welled in his eyes.
Then, moonlight spilled through a window.
A figure appeared before him.
"What are you doing on the floor in the middle of the night?"
