Ms. Gojo thought she was dating an ordinary person's boyfriend.

The automatic door closed behind me, and a gentle breeze of warm air wafted up from inside.

The outpatient clinic quickly became busy during the day.

The sounds of children crying, parents asking questions in hushed tones, and nurses pushing trolleys through the corridor were all mixed together.

Sumi Kichikawa returned to the consultation room, washed her hands, changed her gloves, and continued seeing patients.

As evening approached, Chinatsu Miyazawa came to deliver a test result.

She's usually efficient, but today she lingered at the door for quite a while. The documents in her hand were slightly crumpled, and her brow was gently furrowed.

Kikawa Sumi took the document and glanced at her.

"What's wrong?"

Miyazawa Chinatsu snapped out of her daze and quickly shook her head: "Ah, it's nothing."

Kikawa Sumi didn't flip through the documents; she just looked at her.

Miyazawa Chinatsu sighed as he watched her so quietly.

"It's not a big deal, really. It's just that a few children in the inpatient ward haven't been feeling well lately. Two have low-grade fevers, one is very lethargic during the day, and the other won't sleep at night at all."

Her voice trailed off as she said this, "They all said they had similar dreams."

What kind of dream?

"They said they were locked inside a dark video game console and had to play it continuously; otherwise, they would be caught. At first, we thought it was just children telling each other stories that scared them. But today, after their afternoon nap, another child in a different ward said they heard strange noises."

Kikawa Sumi closed the document.

How many children?

"Four have been confirmed so far. There might be two more, but they're reluctant to disclose it. They're all on the third floor of the pediatric ward, in different rooms."

Sumire Kichikawa stood up: "I'll go take a look."

"Now? But you have a follow-up appointment soon..."

"It's just a couple of simple questions, it won't take long."

The corridors of the inpatient department are much quieter than those of the outpatient department.

The nurses at the duty station were preparing for shift handover when they saw Sumi Kichikawa coming over and casually mentioned it.

It is said that recently the monitors in the ward have occasionally produced brief electrical noises, which sound somewhat like the sound of an old-fashioned Famicom playing a disc, but the equipment department has checked them several times and found no fault.

Kikawa Sumi didn't say anything and walked towards ward 307.

The ward was warm, filled with the faint smell of disinfectant and detergent. On the bed by the window, a little boy was hugging a rabbit doll, his face somewhat pale.

Kikawa Sumi half-squatted down beside the bed and reached out to check the temperature of the child's forehead.

"Did you eat well today?" Sumi Kichikawa asked softly.

The little boy timidly clutched the doll, muttering softly, "I ate a little bit... Doctor, can I stay up tonight? That voice said if I don't pass the level today, it will eat my little rabbit."

The mother, looking anxious, explained, "This child has been saying things like that a lot lately; it's probably because he watches too many cartoons during the day..."

Kikawa Sumi gently comforted the family members for a few moments, but as she stood up, her gaze lingered for a second in the dark corner of the ward.

The place was empty, yet it exuded an indescribable chill.

It felt like the moisture seeped into people's bodies from the floor and walls.

Having been drawn by lot to come to this world, he knew nothing about its power system.

Initially, when he occasionally opened the "Vision," he would see some strange little things.

They lurk in dark corners like dust, absorbing a bit of bad mood or a few complaints.

Because most of them were extremely weak, and most of them would automatically dissipate when they got close to him, he always thought that these "little bugs" generated by negative energy were harmless.

But now it seems that this thing has a pretty big impact on people.

Looks like I'll have to come over tonight to check.

Back in the consultation room, Sumi Kichikawa had just sat down when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

[Wu: What time does Xiaocheng finish today?]

Following this was a meme of a large white cat lying withered on a table.

[Sumi Kikawa: It might be a little late, there's been some unexpected situation in the ward.]

[Wu: Eh—]

[Wu: Are we still watching a movie tonight? I picked a horror one.]

Kikawa Sumi's fingertips twitched slightly as she replied: 【You did this on purpose.】

[Wu: Oops, we've been found out. But Xiaocheng said last time that "it's not suitable to watch after the night shift," right? You're not on duty today.]

[Sumi Kawakawa: Speaking of which, something strange did happen at the hospital today.]

[Wu: Hmm?]

[Sumi Kichikawa: Several children in the inpatient ward had similar dreams, dreaming of being chased by video game consoles. Now the children are afraid to sleep.]

There was an unusual silence over there for a few seconds.

[Insight: This sounds like the beginning of a horror movie.]

[Wu: Shall I come pick you up tonight?]

[Sumi Kawakawa: No need, you can go to my place first. The spare key is at the usual spot.]

[Wu: Okay, I'll head over now. Remember to call if anything happens.]

[Sumi Kikawa: Don't worry.]

[Sumi Kikawa: Remember not to drop sweet crumbs on the sofa.]

[Wu: That was an accident last time! I promise!]

Kikawa Sumi chuckled softly, and was just about to put her phone away when hurried footsteps suddenly came from the end of the corridor.

"Dr. Qichuan! That child in 307 isn't doing well!"

Kikawa Sumi's expression hardened, and she strode out of the consultation room.

Inside ward 307, the lights were a stark white. The monitor emitted a sharp, short alarm. The little boy on the bed had his eyes closed, his forehead covered in cold sweat, and his fingers were tightly twisting the ears of his rabbit doll.

His mother stood by, her face pale with worry and her eyes red.

"He suddenly yelled at me not to chase me, and then this happened!"

The overhead incandescent light suddenly flickered strangely, as if there was a bad connection. Immediately afterwards, a very brief electronic sound, similar to the sound of an old game console reading a disc, came from the monitor.

Kikawa Sumi deftly removed her stethoscope: "Please take the family to the door first; I need to check the equipment. The child is not in immediate danger, so please don't worry."

Miyazawa Chinatsu immediately understood and half-supported, half-dragged her mother out of the ward.

After confirming that the door was closed, Sumi Kichikawa turned around and pulled the bedside curtain closed. The ward immediately became quiet, with only the boy's rapid breathing remaining.

Kikawa Sumi stood by the bed, gently half-closing her eyes. When she opened them again, the world before her had instantly changed.

Faint grid lines have appeared on the otherwise normal walls, bed frame, and monitor surface. And at the center of these grid lines lies the child's pillow—

It was a dark, black mass, like a broken handheld game console.

A blurry, distorted face was squeezed onto the screen, and several hands formed from black mist reached out from the edge of the screen, clinging tightly to the boy's head. Several faint, thin threads were attached to it, piercing through the walls and extending into other wards.

Kikawa Sumi looked at it expressionlessly.

A semi-transparent system box automatically appeared in front of him:

[Exception Object: Unnamed]

[Source of generation: fear, isolation, repeated experiences of failure]

[Affected Area: Expanding]

[Rule Tendencies: Dream Intrusion, Forced Completion, Pursuit of Punishment]