Chapter 2: Contradictory Rules
1261 Words
Chapter 2: Contradictory Rules
The slip of paper was small, almost hidden, but it could be the key to surviving this twisted place. Dorian clutched it tightly in his hands, the weight of its words sinking into him.
Patient Manual
Take your medication on time—morning, noon, and night.
Keep your room tidy at all times.
Those wearing bird masks are the doctors or nurses. Obey their instructions.
If you see blood dripping from the ceiling, don’t panic. It’s perfectly normal.
There are always two patients in every private ward. Never forget this.
If you notice any damaged equipment, immediately report it to someone wearing an elephant mask.
Dorian turned the slip over, his heart skipping a beat when he saw what was scribbled on the back in dark red, almost as if written in blood.
“Don’t take the medicine they give you. They’re monsters leading you into the abyss.”
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The rules on the front and the warning on the back—completely at odds with each other—made his mind spin. Which should he believe?
The front insisted on following the hospital’s strict regimen, including taking the medication regularly. But the blood-written note was a dire warning to do the opposite. And what was more unsettling was the mention of two patients. Since entering the room, Dorian hadn’t seen anyone else.
He quickly glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting a second patient to be hiding in the shadows. The thought of an unseen, unspoken presence made his blood run cold. Could it be... the “Unnameable” lurking behind him?
Knock, knock, knock.
A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. His hand instinctively crumpled the note, shoving it into his pocket. The door creaked open, and two nurses, accompanied by the bird-mask-wearing doctor from his simulation, entered the room.
The doctor’s gaze flicked to the floor, where Dorian’s clothes lay scattered. His masked face turned toward him with cold calculation.
“You didn’t clean up.”
Before Dorian could respond, the nurse pulled a pen from her chest pocket, and without a word, jabbed it into his eye.
Agonizing pain shot through him. His vision blurred as the room swam in a haze of crimson.
He died.
Dorian jerked back to reality, clutching at his face, his mind reeling from the phantom pain of the simulation. The death had been so real—so immediate. There had been no warning, no time to react. This time, it was the nurse, not the doctor, who had killed him. But why?
It was all tied to the rules.
“That must have been it... I didn’t keep the room tidy.”
In the simulation, he hadn’t followed the manual’s second rule. The nurse hadn’t even hesitated to murder him for it. So the written rules must hold some truth, at least in the eyes of the hospital staff.
But what about the b****y warning on the back?
His mental energy had dropped again—30/50. Only three simulations left. Dorian gritted his teeth. There was no choice. He would have to gamble again.
“Begin simulation.”
(Simulation Start!)(This time, you’re calmer, more methodical.)(You rise from the bed, but you don’t immediately search the room. Instead, you methodically clean it—starting by folding the scattered clothes and tucking them neatly into the bedside drawer.)(You move on to straighten the bed, making sure everything is as immaculate as possible.)(Once the room is spotless, you pull open the third drawer and find a small folding knife. You pocket it, then crouch beside the bed, peeking beneath the frame.)(There, pressed against the wall, is another slip of paper.)(You remove your shoe and use it to pull the paper toward you.)(Written in shaky handwriting, the note reads:)
“If you see blood dripping from the ceiling, don’t scream. It’s a hallucination. Whatever you do, never let them know you’ve noticed.”
(You hear a knock at the door again. It’s time.)(This time, you’re ready.)(When the doctor and nurse enter, they survey the room. The nurse, who killed you last time, glances around at the clean floor and nods approvingly.)(The doctor asks if you’ve taken your medication.)(You lie, saying you have.)(The doctor doesn’t question it. He nods, seemingly satisfied.)(From the hallway, you hear a dog barking.)(Neither the doctor nor the nurse react to the sound. It’s as if they can’t hear it.)
"Doctor," Dorian ventured, "why is there a dog in the hospital?"
The doctor glanced at him, the hollow lenses of his mask obscuring any emotion. "There are no dogs here. It seems your condition is worsening. We’ll need to increase your dosage."
"My condition?" Dorian frowned. "What condition do I have?"
The doctor’s voice was emotionless as he replied, “You have delusions. You imagine that your body doesn’t belong to you. You’ve even claimed to see monsters. Have you experienced any of these hallucinations lately?”
Dorian hesitated. The words struck a chord. What if everything he had seen—the monsters, the strange events—was all in his head? Was this part of his illness? Or was it something more sinister? He glanced at the paper warning him not to believe the hospital.
“No,” Dorian answered cautiously.
The doctor nodded again, his masked face unreadable. "Good. You seem stable for now. Later today, we’ll transfer you to a new ward."
With that, the doctor and nurse turned and left, locking the door behind them. Dorian sat on the bed, staring at the slip of paper in his hand. His head throbbed as questions swirled in his mind.
After about ten minutes, the throbbing became unbearable. Blood began to drip from the ceiling, slow at first, then faster. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the hallucination to go away, but the feeling of something wrong, something lurking, wouldn’t leave.
His vision clouded over, everything turning red.
He died.
Back in reality, Dorian’s breath came in short, sharp gasps. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared up at the hospital ceiling. He hadn’t even made it past the ten-minute mark. What had gone wrong?
“I did everything right... I cleaned the room, I pretended to take the pills...”
His thoughts raced. Could it have been the hallucination? Was there something he had overlooked in the earlier rules?
“Let’s try again... Begin simulation!”
(Simulation Start!)(You repeat your earlier actions, cleaning the room and lying about taking the medication.)(This time, you remember the hallucination warning. When the blood starts dripping from the ceiling, you know better than to panic. You force yourself to stay calm, breathing through the fear.)(The blood vanishes as quickly as it appeared.)(Soon, you hear a knock on the door. The nurse informs you that it's time for breakfast.)(You walk out into the hallway, careful not to make eye contact with the other patients. Their faces are pale and gaunt, their expressions hollow.)(Once you reach the cafeteria, you spot the chef behind the counter, his face hidden behind a grotesque pig mask.)(You order a bowl of porridge and some steamed buns.)(The pig-masked chef looks at you, then, without warning, grabs a cleaver and brings it down—hard.)(Your skull splits open.)(You die.)
Dorian jolted out of the simulation once again, gripping his head, drenched in cold sweat. Four simulations, four gruesome deaths. No matter what he did, the Haunting Dimension seemed determined to kill him. He would have to face whatever twisted rules governed the cafeteria next.
- Writer
