The footsteps lingered between their room and the one next door, as if unsure which to choose.
Fu Changxun lay with his ear pressed to Dong Zi’s chest, not daring to move, straining to listen.
Finally, the footsteps faded—heading into the next room.
Fu Changxun let out a long, quiet breath. Only then did he realize the rather compromising position he was in.
And also, that Dong Zi’s heartbeat was a little… too fast.
He rolled silently away, for once feeling a rare moment of awkwardness.
Was Dong Zi…?
Outside, silence fell once more. Lu Qi cautiously cracked open his eyes, then turned toward his teammates—
Only to see his ex-boyfriend lying in the same bed as some guy he’d known for less than a day. Practically tangled together.
He nearly fainted from sheer outrage.
He opened his mouth, ready to say something—then remembered: they were still inside a game instance. And there was still some unknown threat lurking just beyond the door.
“Ahem.”
Fu Changxun gave a soft cough, almost entirely breath, and gestured for the others to look his way.
Once Dong Zi and Lu Qi met his gaze, he mouthed, slowly and clearly: “No more sounds. Not sure if that thing is really gone.”
Lu Qi suddenly got it.
Wait—this works too?!
Furious, Lu Qi exaggeratedly mouthed back, “Have you no shame?! Can you show me a little respect?”
But his lip movements were so over-the-top, he looked more like a barking dog than someone making a point.
Fu Changxun couldn’t make sense of it. He shot Lu Qi a look of disdain and started to sit up.
Just then, a dragging sound came from the room next door.
He instantly lay flat again.
Footsteps—tap tap—mixed with the harsh scrape of something heavy being dragged across the floor, slowly faded into the distance.
In the pitch-dark room, Fu Changxun locked eyes with Dong Zi. A sliver of moonlight filtered through the window, landing faintly on them—but it wasn’t romantic.
It was bone-chilling.
Hair stood on end. Skin crawled. An invisible pressure filled the room.
What did “it” drag away? Was it a patient? What happens to patients that get taken? Why the room next door and not theirs? What was the selection criteria?
They had no answers.
The unknown was always the most terrifying.
About half an hour passed. The “thing” didn’t return.
Only then did Fu Changxun hurriedly open his team chat on the personal game panel and type a message: [How’s the fourth floor?]
Messages sent through the personal panel were completely private. Only the sender and recipient could see them—not even NPCs or bosses inside the instance had access.
That made it the safest way to communicate.
Lulu replied almost instantly: [All clear.]
Fu Changxun: [Any movement in the hallway? Something dragged a patient from the room next to ours about thirty minutes ago. Sounded like heels.]
Lulu: [Nothing. It’s been completely quiet. The big sister in the bed next to us is already asleep.]
Fu Changxun: [We’re coming over.]
Strictly speaking, making a move on the first night was risky. But the sound of a patient being dragged off was a clear warning.
Wait too long, and the next one taken could be one of them.
Every player on the patient side—except Lu Qi—was too valuable to risk.
“Let’s go. We’re heading to the fourth floor to regroup,” Fu Changxun said, climbing out of bed and slipping on his shoes.
Lu Qi hesitated. “Can’t we just stay here?”
Dong Zi glanced at him, deadpan. “Then stay. Alone.”
Lu Qi: “……I’m coming.”
What am I gonna do, wait here to be dragged off by whatever that was?
Fortunately, they’d all slept fully clothed. Slipping out of the room didn’t make too much noise.
The corridor on the third floor was dimly lit by a flickering ceiling lamp. Peeking out through the cracked door, they saw no one.
Fu Changxun crouched down and released the Black Cat, gesturing for it to scout ahead. As a “tool,” the cat would automatically return to his inventory if damaged.
The Black Cat voiced its protest with a sharp “Meow! Mrrrow!”
Fu Changxun tried to bargain. “Once we clear this instance, I’ll cook fresh cat food for you every day. Deal?”
The Black Cat hesitated a moment, then flicked its tail and started strutting ahead.
Deal sealed! Kibble couldn’t compare to homemade cat meals.
Having struck a fine bargain, the little feline led the trio forward, quite pleased with itself.
Lu Qi had never seen a cat that could understand human speech. Surprised, he suddenly realized… he didn’t know Fu Changxun nearly as well as he thought he did.
The two walking in front had no idea about Lu Qi’s emotional spiral. Not that they would’ve cared.
The Black Cat glided forward soundlessly, leading the way up to the fourth floor and stopping in front of Xiaoxiao’s room.
Fu Changxun tapped the panel and sent a message, then gently knocked twice.
“Xiaoxiao, it’s us.”
The door opened immediately. Two girls were waiting right behind it—they’d clearly been expecting them.
“Hi, gege,” Xiaoxiao whispered. “Where are we going?”
She still remembered the plan to “pretend not to know them,” so she deliberately avoided calling them Fu-ge or Dong-ge.
Fu Changxun gave her a gentle pat on the head. “You didn’t hear anything unusual up here?”
Xiaoxiao nodded firmly. “Nothing at all. It’s been super quiet. Even the auntie next to us doesn’t snore when she sleeps.”
She pointed to the middle-aged woman in the bed. The woman lay utterly still—unnaturally so. No sounds. Not even audible breathing.
Dong Zi stepped up to check and gave a small nod. “She’s alive. But completely unconscious.”
It was like a corpse that could breathe.
The mysteries of this hospital only deepened. But at least the five of them were now reunited—and that gave them room to act.
“Let’s go. We’re checking the fifth floor,” Fu Changxun said. “They said patients who don’t take their meds get dragged upstairs. If that thing from earlier took the patient next door, maybe it’s because they didn’t take their pills. And maybe it hesitated at our room because I didn’t either.”
The logic made sense. Compelling enough that everyone agreed to go.
Before they left, Fu Changxun spent some Points in the Game Shop to buy a compact, finely-made flashlight.
[A flashlight that might deal damage to enemies. Weak effect aside from lighting. 10 Points.]
Ten points—enough to buy ten days of rest time. But there wasn’t a cheaper flashlight available.
He had no choice but to take the hit. Total rip-off.
Still, they made a plan ahead of time: if they ran into danger, they’d bolt immediately.
The fifth-floor stairwell looked identical to the other floors—except the hallway above had no lights.
Pitch black.
The corridor on the fifth floor was drowned in shadow. You couldn’t even see your own hand in front of your face.
Fu Changxun thought for a moment, then crouched down beside Xiaoxiao. “Use your ability. Can you tell if anyone’s nearby?”
Xiaoxiao’s ability could eliminate all organisms of a certain type within a given range. That meant she’d naturally know if any “target entities” were present in the area.
Using her skill like a motion detector…
It actually worked.
Things were getting weirder and weirder. Lu Qi, trailing behind the others, felt more out of place than ever.
But Xiaoxiao was over the moon. She’d thought her ability was useless—now it could actually help. That gave her the courage to keep moving forward.
Once she confirmed the area was clear, Fu Changxun switched on the flashlight and swept it across the hallway, illuminating each room as they passed.
The rooms on this floor were noticeably different from those downstairs—most were fitted with security doors or iron bars, making the entire corridor feel far more sinister. But aside from that, nothing seemed overtly unusual.
Of course, it was night. They couldn’t see that many of the doors were stained with dried blood.
Eventually, the group reached the room at the very end of the corridor. Unlike the others, it was just an ordinary door. No reinforced steel. No multiple locks. Just a simple keyhole.
Their instincts told them—something was inside.
Lulu stepped up and twisted the handle twice before shaking her head. “It’s locked. Forcing it open would make too much noise.”
“That’s not a problem,” Fu Changxun said with a grin. He pulled out his lifetime-bound item—the Useless-Looking Doorknob—and calmly fitted it into the doorframe. With a casual twist, the lock clicked open.
Lulu stared, slack-jawed. “What the hell—seriously?!”
Just when she thought the personal ability detector was already overpowered, Fu Changxun hit her with a second reality check.
Lu Qi was even more dumbfounded.
Once the door creaked open, everyone instinctively took a few steps back, none of them daring to be the first inside.
Finally, Fu Changxun switched on his flashlight and swept it across the interior of the strange room.
To their surprise, there weren’t any bones or organs or horrifying monsters—just medical equipment. On the surface, it all looked normal.
Puzzled, they stepped in. Lulu, being a doctor, immediately took the lead and began examining the machines.
Then she frowned.
“These are wrong. They’re supposed to be medical devices, but they’re all fake. These aren’t for healing—they’re for torture.”
She pointed at a surgical table. “Look at this—restraining straps? That overhead lamp’s not even a proper shadowless light, it’s just a giant blinding bulb! Patients strapped here would suffer like hell. God, as a doctor, I can’t take this kind of equipment abuse. Who the hell funded this nightmare?”
Lulu was furious, ranting nonstop.
Dong Zi, meanwhile, inspected each device carefully, eventually reaching for one that looked like an iron press.
Fu Changxun grabbed his wrist just in time. “Don’t touch it. What if it’s still powered? I’ll unplug it first.”
He straightened and lifted a dangling wire. “This is for electric shocks. Not like a defibrillator—this one’s built for pain.”
Dong Zi’s brow furrowed.
Lu Qi shivered. “Wait… is this some kind of anti-internet addiction center? Like that one dude, Yang Yongxin…”
Dong Zi shook his head. “Doesn’t fit. We ‘patients’ aren’t all teens.”
Internet addiction was mostly associated with adolescents. Some parents, scared about grades, sent their kids to those centers—only to end up harming them instead. But their group’s situation was completely different.
That middle-aged woman, for one, was definitely no teenager.
Then… what was this place?
“Is this really a hospital? These machines are—way beyond twisted.”
Lulu finally stopped ranting and rubbed her arms to chase off the goosebumps.
Fu Changxun was about to speak when he suddenly heard footsteps echoing outside. He immediately shut off the flashlight and gestured for silence, pressing against the wall.
Everyone froze. Huddled together, not even daring to breathe.
