Chapter 1

I had a fever that wouldn't quit. The whole world felt like it was spinning.

My mind was a mess, and my hearing kept cutting in and out, like I was wearing a pair of cheap earbuds with a loose connection.

I struggled my way toward a nearby clinic, hoping to get some medicine, but I lost my balance halfway there and collapsed by the roadside.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a cold hospital bed.

The air was thick with the sharp scent of rust and formalin, so strong that it made me cough. The lighting was dim, and the walls were stained and peeling, with dark reddish smears that looked disturbingly like dried blood.

This place was in terrible condition. I couldn't believe any health authority would ever approve a facility like this. I decided I'd file a complaint later.

I sat up unsteadily. That was when I saw her.

A one-armed nurse drifted toward me like a ghost, her pale face stretched into an unsettling smile.

Her voice came out like gravel scraping up from her throat. "New patient? First step is a blood draw."

However, my fever was messing with my ears, and everything came in distorted. What I heard instead was, "New patient? Want to try a new hairstyle first?"

That got my attention immediately. I steadied myself and looked her over. "A hospital that offers haircuts with treatment? That's actually pretty cool."

I pointed at my messy hair. "Sure. Give me something cute."

The One-Armed Nurse's smile froze in place.

She looked shocked. The syringe in her hand shook a little, like she was trying hard to figure out what I meant.

'Man, she wasn't good at hiding her reaction. Did I ask for too much or something?

Trying to be reasonable, I added, "Nothing fancy. Give me one of those shoulder-length cuts that are popular lately. Do you guys have a place to wash hair? This fever's made my head so greasy."

The nurse said nothing. Her neck twisted stiffly with these creepy clicking noises, like she was about to try scaring me again.

However, when she looked into my fever-blurry eyes, full of honest anticipation, whatever scary line she'd been getting ready got stuck in her throat.

"Are you not afraid of me?" she finally forced out, her voice dry and strained.

I looked at her, confused. "Why would I? You're a nurse, not some kind of monster. Still, your job must be brutal. Looks like you've worked yourself into a trauma."

I gave her a sympathetic look at her missing arm. "You should get your boss to pay you more for that."

Come on, hospitals were getting out of control. Were they seriously using injured workers to make people feel bad for them? These bosses were so ridiculous.

The nurse froze. In the shadows behind her, I could make out a few blurry figures shaking, probably other patients waiting for their hair appointments.

"Alright, forget the haircut." I waved it off and slid off the bed. "I'm burning up. Give me something to bring it down. Where's the doctor? I need to see him."

Without waiting for her to answer, I leaned on the wall and started making my way down the hall.

This place was creepy, the air conditioning blasting so hard that it sent a chill straight through me.

The hallway felt like it went on forever. All the doors were shut tight, with cold air leaking through the gaps.

The emergency lights kept flickering, making my shadow stretch and shrink like some kind of creepy monster.

"Hello? Is there a doctor here?" I shouted at the top of my lungs, my voice echoing through the corridor in an unsettling way.

I shouted for a while before one door finally creaked open.

I perked up and made a beeline for it.

It was pitch black inside, and all I could see was the shape of a tall person holding something that made this low buzzing sound.

"Hey, are you the doctor? I've got a fever. Mind checking me out?" I leaned my head into the doorway.

The figure walked out of the dark one step at a time, his tall body almost blocking the whole doorway.

He had on a white coat covered in dark red stains, a leather mask over his face, and in his hand was a smoking chainsaw. The noise from it was unbelievably loud.

He raised the chainsaw, pointed it at me, and bellowed in a crazed voice, "I'm gonna cut you open."

My overheated ears went into their usual "auto-translate" mode again.

What I heard was, "Sore throat? Let me check it."

Oh, so he was a specialist. He looked kinda intense, but super professional.

It suddenly clicked for me. I stepped closer and looked at him seriously. "Yeah, my throat is feeling a bit weird."

I tiptoed up and casually gave his broad back a couple of pats. "Doc, that throat of yours sounds rough, like an old engine. You should smoke less and drink more water, or you're gonna fall ill."

The chainsaw's buzzing stopped all of a sudden.

The Chainsaw Surgeon, or what I thought was an ENT specialist, froze.

His leather-masked head tilted downward at an agonizingly slow pace, his gaze settling on the hand I still had resting on his back, as if he were staring at something from another world.

Totally unaware, I kept going in the tone of a health enthusiast. "Loc, look at this place. It's dark and damp, really bad for your lungs. You guys need better ventilation. The whole place smells moldy."

Dedication was admirable, but his health mattered, too. If he wore himself out, how was he supposed to help patients?

After patting his back, I fixed the dirty collar of his coat, looking pleased with myself, like I'd given some solid advice.

I heard a bunch of sharp gasps from the shadows. When I looked over, I saw a few people in hospital gowns crammed into a corner, shaking like crazy.

There were other patients here. Why was everyone shivering like that? This place really needed a complaint about the air conditioning.