Chapter 2

The Chainsaw Surgeon finally snapped out of it. The chainsaw dropped from his hand and slammed onto the floor. He lifted his gloved hand and pointed at me, his finger trembling like he couldn't control it.

"I'm Emma Landry," I said, flashing a friendly smile. "What's your name, doc? Once I'm all better, I'll send you a thank-you message."

The Chainsaw Surgeon stumbled backward as if he'd been burned, then spun around and slammed the door shut, as if I were some kind of monster.

I stood there, dumbfounded.

Were doctors so shy these days? Or maybe he really needed a cup of coffee.

I shrugged and continued my journey to seek medical help.

Since that so-called specialist was a total bust, I figured it was time to find someone higher up, like the director of this hospital.

As I walked, I kept looking around, checking out the environment.

There was a duty schedule hanging on the wall. The faces in the photos were all warped and blurry, and the names looked like messy scribbles I couldn't read.

Well, they took employee privacy seriously.

There were occasional streaks of dark red liquid on the floor, trailing in long lines. The janitors must be slacking off. They didn't mop properly.

Every now and then, a shrill scream echoed through the halls.

The soundproofing sucked. How were patients supposed to get better if they couldn't have a good rest?

What I didn't know was that behind me, an internal channel on Player Forum had already erupted into chaos.

[Holy crap. Did you guys see that? That newbie girl patted the Butcher on the back.]

[I did. She gave him medical advice. The Butcher dropped his chainsaw from shock. That's insane.]

[I was hiding in Room 302 and saw it myself. She left the Spectral Nurse totally speechless and asked if she was any good at cutting hair.]

[Who is this girl? Is this some big-shot's alt account, here for fun? This isn't skill and courage anymore. She's crazy.]

A veteran player named HighlandEcho spoke up, sounding serious. [No, I've never seen anything like this. There's no sign of item energy coming from her at all. She looks like a complete beginner.

[However, she's facing an A-Class Spectre without a hint of fear. She's not acting. She seriously thinks this place is a hospital with lousy service. She's more terrifying than any spectre here.]

I had no clue any of that was happening and was still stressing over the development of this hospital.

I wandered all over the inpatient wing, and not only did I fail to find a single doctor, but I got the full scoop on how filthy this place really was.

Those bloodstains in the hallway were ugly to look at, so I dragged a rag out of the storage room, dipped it in some random liquid, and wiped a long section of the floor until it looked spotless.

A few patients passing by saw this, their eyes wide with shock, before they fled in a frantic rush.

Why were they running? Were they afraid I'd charge them a cleaning fee?

I also noticed the patients here really liked playing hide-and-seek. They were hiding in cabinets and under beds like kids. Out of pure goodwill, I pulled them out and lectured them, "Stop hiding. The floor is cold. You'll fall ill."

In the end, I ended up with a bunch of pale followers trailing behind me. They kept about 10 feet away, too scared to get close but also too scared to leave, like I was some kind of caring teacher.

Stories about me began spreading among them in increasingly bizarre ways.

[She treated the Butcher's chainsaw, the one dripping with dread, as if it were hospital equipment.]

[And she used a Burial Shroud to mop the floor. That thing's got ancient curses wrapped around it.]

[The scariest part? She dragged me out of the corpse cabinet. I was lying right next to the Headless Patient, and she patted my shoulder and said, 'Hey, stop napping. Get up and join the fun.'

[The Headless Patient had a meltdown, hugging his head and retreating back into the cabinet.]

My reputation skyrocketed from "a slightly crazy newbie" to "an unfathomable wildcard who could make spectres go catatonic."

Meanwhile, I was standing in front of a huge obsidian door covered in fancy carvings, hands on my hips, and seriously annoyed.

"This is it. The director's office," I said, totally convinced.

This door looked way fancier than the rest, so it had to belong to someone in charge.

The group trailing behind me saw the door and instantly yelped, then scattered in every direction.

What a bunch of cowards.

I cleared my throat and banged hard on the door. "Hey, open up. I know you're in there. I've got a complaint."

There was complete silence inside.

That only made me more pissed. I stepped back, braced myself, and kicked the door as hard as I could. "If you don't open up, I'm calling the cops. You're practicing medicine without a license."

With a loud creaking sound, the heavy obsidian door slowly opened inward.

Inside was pure darkness, thick like it had a life of its own, spilling outward with a cold that felt like it could freeze my soul. Deep in the dark, a pair of red eyes slowly appeared.

A deep, powerful voice rang out, sounding like it came straight from the underworld, carrying a pressure that could make anyone submit. "Human, kneel."

My feverish ears were buzzing so loudly, and I misheard the line. Instead of "Human, kneel." I got, "Annoying. Sit down."

'Geez, this man sure had quite a temper.