Chapter 138 The Asylum 8 Chaos
You wait quietly for night to fall in your solitary confinement cell. You wake briefly each time, then drift back to sleep.
When you close your eyes, the world is a boundless darkness. The only light comes from the crack under the door, a dim and faint glimmer of emergency light seeping into the corridor.
Finally, the gap opened a little wider, followed by the sound of the door lock being slowly turned open by some external force.
Click, click.
The same thing happened again.
You wait quietly for them to leave.
The door was opened again, but it was still not closed.
It was pitch black outside. You sat up, not daring to go out immediately, but instead put your face close to the crack in the door, first listening, then looking.
Unexpectedly, you saw her.
She was slowly walking down the corridor, wearing that familiar light pink uniform, but her hat was askew on one side of her head, as crooked as her movements.
Her movements were slow and distorted, yet they were more human than those of the other "night patrol" monsters.
You recognize her—she's the nurse who used to dispense your breakfast pills.
You once pulled the pages of the manual out of her head with your own hands, and after several trials and uses, you didn't put anything back in her head.
Looking at her, you finally realize: when "medical staff" lose their "brains," they become monsters of the night.
But what about the patients? For example, Xiaoyu, in a state of mental emptiness, only becomes dull and quiet, and occasionally utters some seemingly plausible words that still seem to have their own thoughts.
What do these differences represent?
Only those who have "gained power" will turn against you after losing it.
Or, to put it another way, patients who have become "medical staff" will not become patients again, even if they lose the contents of their brains; they will only become monsters who deceive themselves and drift outside the system.
In this tiny "madhouse," a fascinating drama of "evolution" was unfolding.
So what happens next? Under what conditions will the monster transform into something else?
It's difficult to uncover what happens next. You can't learn much more about them, and even if you deliberately provoke these monsters, they seem only to angrily and helplessly shove you back into the solitary confinement room, rather than engaging in any new interactions with you.
You can't have any interaction with them at all; their existence is merely a necessary factor for someone who happens to come across them to discover a slim hope of breaking the vicious cycle.
So you quickened your pace, crossed the corridor, and ran towards the "group ward".
You approach the first bed with practiced ease, pinpoint your target, open the head of the sleeping medical staff member, remove everything inside, and discard it.
You searched through all the people's pockets and offices, and finally found the ghost bride's black hair.
You take a deep breath, feeling the faint connection you still have with it, and gently and cherishingly put it back in your pocket.
At this point, you've completed half of your plan.
You look forward to the next day.
The next day, you were woken up by someone tapping you on the head.
The force carried a slight impatience, characteristic of a patient's nervousness, but it was masked by a bright, almost ingratiating smile, making it impossible to truly be annoyed.
You open your eyes, and there's Bella, the girl who was always sent here because of her crying.
She was squatting by your bedside, the tear stains at the corners of her eyes still wet, hanging somewhat out of place above her bright, smiling lips.
"Come out quickly, no one is watching us now."
You paused for a moment, then sat up, and the first thing you saw was the open door to the solitary confinement cell.
Light streamed in from outside, and from further away came the rustling of footsteps and soft conversations—no, more like murmurs—as if a group of people had just broken free from their confinement and were tentatively confirming that true freedom had arrived.
You jolted awake, practically stumbling to your feet, and hurried to the door. A glance revealed:
Every ward door was wide open, and patients were walking out of the rooms one by one.
You see people still wearing hospital gowns, some have torn their bed sheets into oddly shaped pieces of clothing and put them on their heads like armor as if that would cover them up, and some have run so fast that they have kicked off their slippers and are walking barefoot on the tiles.
They walked down the corridor, looking around.
At first, their behavior was relatively "proper." They spoke in hushed tones and walked slowly, and even though no one was holding their arms anymore, they still seemed to be under some kind of restraint.
However, all of this soon changed.
"Smack!"
A male patient accidentally knocked over a glass medicine bottle that was sitting on a corner table.
Fragments scattered everywhere, reflecting a cold light.
This loud noise, which would be considered a major disturbance by ordinary people, seemed to have triggered a “nerve alarm” in some people.
He broke things!
A patient screamed maniacally and collapsed, clutching his head with both hands and running wildly to a corner as if an air raid siren had sounded.
Immediately afterwards, another person saw the broken glass on the ground, and laughing loudly, squatted down to pick it up: "Sparkling! Sparkling!"
She shouted as she put it into her mouth.
You rushed over and stopped her hand, but while you could manage this, you couldn't stop the chaos from spreading.
Screams, shouts, and even cries instantly blended into a thick porridge of noise.
Several patients, who were already emotionally unstable, suddenly started pushing others violently, shouting that they wanted to get out.
Some people were biting, some were pulling, and some were clinging to the wall screaming, "She's back! She's back!"
You almost reflexively yell, "Quiet down, all of you!"
Ha, nobody listens to you.
Close your eyes, exhale, and focus your mind on the "samples" you collected yesterday—those relatively conscious and communicable patients.
They quickly found their target, Lynn, who was sitting upright in the corner. They grabbed her hand and said, "Come on, come with me."
She was startled, but still obediently got up.
You found another short-haired girl who rarely answered questions but always asked "What time is it?" She stood in her ward, peeking out and spacing out. When you tugged at her sleeve, she followed without resistance.
Gather as many people as possible without forcing them—five, six, seven… Have them sit on the ground and form a circle.
They sat down on their own and quickly accepted the situation, then calmly began to whisper among themselves, relaxed as if waiting to be fed.
And you are like the teacher leading the team, having already calmed down the most obedient group, surveying the scene, assessing the level of chaos, and then deciding—it's time to take action.
You are already very familiar with this place, so you immediately rush into the nearest storage room and rummage through the cabinets to find spare restraint straps and some commonly used cotton sheets.
You returned to the corridor, putting into practice the techniques you had already learned.
Tie them up with ropes, wrap their restless hands and feet in bed sheets, and scold them in a controlling tone.
You are not a doctor, but you are the most clear-headed person here, and that is enough for you to temporarily take control of the situation.
You grab them, force them to sit down, form circles around them, and make demands and commands in the ways they're used to.
And this is far more effective than gentle admonition for some less obedient patients.
You circle the bubble, panting, your hands covered in skin flakes and sweat from the struggle. No matter how strong and powerful you've become through training, you'll still be overwhelmed if you try to take on a dozen or twenty of them by yourself.
A sense of absurdity arises. You're using the most violent methods to force someone who's insane to sit still, trying to prove to someone that you're not crazy.
But you can't stop.
You need to call the police.
No, no, you don't think you're naive, you're just "realistic".
You don't believe the police will come and save you, but you know that if you escape, you might be treated as a prison break criminal because of your criminal record.
But if you stay here and make a huge scene in this mental hospital, drawing the attention of the "higher-ups" to the anomalies here, you'll have a chance to say, "I'm not insane."
"I was the one who took control of everything here when the medical staff were negligent. I am rational and capable. My words can be used as testimony. Please let me go back to my normal life."
Create "an authoritative direction," ignite it yourself, and then use it to set off the whole thing.
You counted the heads, and apart from Xiao Ai and Xiao Yu who refused to cooperate, and that tall, thin woman whose name you couldn't tell, you managed to gather everyone in the activity room.
Even if it was wrapped up like a blanket.
So, now is the time.
You remember the phone was on the small counter at the nurses' station.
So you turned around and took a few steps.
Just a few steps, a total of only a few dozen seconds, when suddenly I heard a slight "click" sound behind me—
It wasn't the loud sound of a glass bottle shattering, but rather like the gentle opening of a plastic casing.
?
You're all too familiar with that sound; it's the sound of bones colliding when the skull is opened.
You turned around.
The patients were still sitting there, mostly motionless, while a few fidgety patients were being soothed by the "well-behaved patients" you had initially gathered together.
Your gaze sweeps over and over again, but you can't see anything wrong.
You tied them up very tightly, and these rebellious patients didn't do anything out of line.
in the end...
Ah, you counted again and realized that the missing people weren't these "problem patients".
On the contrary, among the obedient patients, two were not in their original positions.
Your gaze sweeps across the crowd, and you finally see one of them—Bella—squatting in the corner with Lynn, who listens to almost anything anyone says to her.
"Bella, what are you doing?"
You walked slowly towards there. Lynn was looking down, as if she were about to fall asleep.
Bella—her fingertips seemed to be holding something, something silvery and shiny.
You look at her.
"Bella, what are you doing? Can't you stop?"
You said you saw Bella open Lynn's head.
Bella looked up and was looking at you too.
She grinned, revealing her teeth; years of living in the mental hospital had given her a childlike smile, and her eyes were exceptionally bright. It was almost eerie.
“Sister, I know you want to help us,” she said softly.
“Yes, so come over to me now, okay? Leave Lynn alone.” You feel sweat—the kind of sweat that builds up in your hair when chasing patients.
“Then I can help people like you, right?” Bella said softly. “Can I do the ‘right’ thing just once?”
"Bella!"
She had already thrown what she was holding at Lynn's head.
In her hand was a piece of plastic needle and a piece of transparent empty shell.
A needle that was thrown into a corner at some unknown time and by someone, or perhaps just a piece of trash that went unnoticed during a violent injection of a sedative.
Just now, it was inserted into another person's skull.
"What did you do?" You stand there, stunned, finding it utterly absurd.
Before you could rush up and try to salvage something, the patient who had been "operated on" slowly raised his head.
This meticulous woman, who once upheld justice to the point of getting herself into trouble, now has pupils that are so cloudy they look like glass marbles wiped with alcohol.
Clear, bright, burning with the fire of reform.
She stood up, her movements no longer sluggish or trembling.
She glanced around, her gaze sweeping across the chaotic hall before finally settling on you.
"Lynn, do you remember me? I am—" you could only say calmly.
She nodded, interrupting you.
"You are the patient. You cannot give orders to others."
You were taken aback, your lips parted slightly, but before you could speak, she had already walked up to you.
She whispered, "I'm a healthcare worker now."
"Who...who said that?" you gritted your teeth. "Lynn, don't say such things. You'll receive excellent treatment, but not here. Now, I'm with you—"
Your words were interrupted again.
"I have a calming power in my mind. As long as I am calm and meticulous, I can control the order."
Your pupils dilated sharply.
You want to break the order, but under your best efforts to control it, some accidental factors have taught them how you formed your "order": not by escaping, nor by being free, but by establishing a new authority.
They directly copied everything that had existed before, and then usurped it.
You lunge at her, intending to use brute force, but Lynn has already done the same to Bella, who is closest to her.
Bella continued to rush towards the others.
Bandages torn from his body, restraint straps, a broken time clock...
Compared to the medical staff who have already "lost" to you, everything else put into the minds of these patients is just scraps.
If those people were at least influenced by legitimate medical materials inside the brain and could act as medical professionals in a proper way, you simply can't imagine what kind of muddle-headed, violent, and unscientific people these people would become.
The dean—the person in charge here, and the only real doctor—did not show up at all.
Of course, they don't need the dean's appointment at all—they only need to recognize each other.
There is only one dean, and no matter how these people are changed, they will not interfere with the dean's affairs.
Oh no.
It's out of control.
You wanted to teach the dean a lesson, but now you're the one in trouble.
You hurriedly back away, only to find yourself surrounded.
"What are you doing?" you asked one last time, your voice loud, attempting to bluff your way back into power.
“We’re maintaining order,” Lynn replied.
She made herself a hat out of pink cardstock and put it squarely on her head.
“It seems she’s unwilling to take the medication,” another “medical worker” said. “She’s obstructing treatment.”
The third one said coldly, "Who remembers how she got here? In short, she's a dangerous element."
“Then we have to… deal with her.” Someone chuckled maliciously, as if reciting a law.
They have quickly formed an organic group.
They share a common consciousness, have rudimentary institutional frameworks, and have even begun to use "roles" to classify people.
Standing before them is like standing at the gates of a restarted asylum—this time, it's not the old "system" that oppresses you, but a new system rebuilt by the patients themselves.
Their eyes are on you.
It was a complex gaze, like a patient looking at another patient, or a madman looking at a sane person.
"Grab her."
In an instant, several people pounced on you and pinned you to the ground.
You struggled with all your might, and before they could fully exert their dominance, you suddenly twisted your body, taking the weight of several people with you as you rolled to the ground.
"Grab her—!"
Others shouted.
You kick one person aside and then slam into another, the pain exploding, but you don't have time to care.
You rushed out like a madman.
They chase after you, so you turn around, grab a plastic chair from the doorway, and smash it at them.
Chair?
You grabbed the wooden chairs the medical staff were sitting on and ran upstairs.
You need to get her out—you need to see her!
You swung the chair and headed straight for the dean's office.
That authority figure who exists quietly above all.
You slammed the chair against the door with a bang.
The first time, the door didn't budge.
The second time, the chair leg broke, but there wasn't even a crack on the door.
"Come out!!" you roared, the sound like it was being ripped from your throat.
It was all in vain.
A new medical team centered around Lynn has caught up.
Chased by medical staff by day, chased by monsters by night, unclear cases weigh on your shoulders, and a gloomy future leaves you dizzy and disoriented.
You picked up the broken chair and smashed it again—this time not the door, but the glass.
You understand the meaning of the tall, thin woman's words, "Nothing matters."
You can't break the cycle of being stuck here; you see absolutely no possibility of being released in the eyes of that dean.
You've explored every inch of this place, yet you still can't find the part of yourself that you've lost.
Whatever, you should leave first.
Staying here long enough will drive you crazy, even if you're not.
How can a madman leave this instance? Will you even remember that you need to leave?
You look out the window at the beautiful scenery and the other patients slowly basking in the sun in the courtyard.
Now, you're going to smash it.
—These pieces of glass.
"Bang!!"
The glass cracked, spreading out like a spider web, the fine lines resembling twisted nerves in the sunlight.
You take a deep breath, and another one!
This time, the glass shattered completely.
A huge amount spilled all over the ground.
You squint your eyes, welcoming the sunlight streaming in from the window and the fresh air.
But they found nothing there.
No, it's not "empty".
It is nothingness.
It is the "nothingness" that is more unsettling than darkness.
In that instant, you can't even tell if you didn't see anything or if you were blind.
Sunlight? Yes, there is brightness. But it's not coming from outside the window, but from behind the glass. More like... the last remaining spot of light from the projector, struggling and gasping for breath on the already burnt screen.
You approach the empty window step by step, your fingertips gently parting the remaining edge of the glass.
No wind blew in.
The temperature remained unchanged.
You reach out your hand.
My palm pierced through the edge of the broken glass, reaching into the pale light—
There was nothing there.
You slowly withdrew your hand and saw that the skin on your fingertips was still intact and without a speck of dust.
—Everything outside the window never existed.
Those patients strolling in the sunlight, those courtyards with lush green grass, those birdsongs and the sound of the wind—they are nothing but illusions reflected in glass.
You felt as if you had fallen into an ice cave.
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