A bizarre and terrifying experience; I messed up the dungeon world.

"Is the dean not here?" Zhou Lang asked.

Chen Zhiyuan paused in his tracks.

"The dean... is away on a business trip. He went abroad for an academic exchange six months ago and hasn't returned yet." His speech was steady, but his trembling left hand unconsciously clenched. "I'll temporarily take over the hospital's affairs."

"Oh." Zhou Lang didn't press further.

Chen Zhiyuan led him to the office next door and handed him a stack of documents. "This is your shift schedule and information on the departments you need to familiarize yourself with. You're on the night shift tonight, at the nurses' station on the third floor."

"The third floor?"

"Yes, the internal medicine department on the third floor. Is there a problem?"

"no."

After Chen Zhiyuan left, Zhou Lang opened the stack of documents. The work schedule wasn't anything special, but one page among the departmental information caught his attention—

Floor plan of Ren'an Hospital.

The area on the east side of the third floor corridor was painted black and stamped with a red seal: [Closed - Under Maintenance]. However, upon closer inspection, the shape of the blackened area doesn't resemble a typical corridor; it looks more like a row of individual cubicles.

Laboratory cubicles.

Zhou Lang took a picture of the floor plan and sent it to Han Yingying and Xiong Batian via his mobile phone.

The cafeteria opened at 6 PM. The rules stated that no one could enter the cafeteria outside of mealtimes, but they had to be there during mealtimes. Zhou Lang carried his tray and found a corner to sit down. Han Yingying and Xiong Batian came over one after the other.

The three huddled together, exchanging information in hushed tones.

"I've gone into the medical records room." Han Yingying pushed a small notebook over. "In the past three months, a total of forty-seven patients were admitted, and only nine were discharged. The remaining thirty-eight... all have 'transferred to another hospital for treatment' written on their medical records, but it doesn't say where they were transferred to."

"Thirty-eight people vanished into thin air." Zhou Lang flipped through his notebook.

"There's another problem." Han Yingying paused. "Of the forty-seven admitted patients, thirty-two had the same diagnosis—'unexplained immune system abnormality'."

"What illness?" Xiong Batian asked, his mouth stuffed with a steamed bun.

"It's an illness for which no cause can be found. Symptoms include general weakness, organ dysfunction, and a sharp decline in immunity." Han Yingying's voice lowered even further. "And the attending physician for all thirty-two people has the same name listed—Chen Zhiyuan."

Zhou Lang put down his chopsticks.

Vice Dean Chen Zhiyuan. The Dean's apprentice.

The background story of the game states that the apprentice made a deal with a wealthy businessman behind the hospital director's back, killed the director, took control of the hospital, and claimed to have developed a miracle drug to attract patients, who then became guinea pigs.

The details are mostly clear now.

"What about that rich kid from VIP?" Zhou Lang asked.

"You mean the one with the gold-rimmed glasses?" Xiong Batian gestured to the left with his chin. "Over there."

Zhou Lang followed his gaze. The man with the gold-rimmed glasses sat alone in the best spot in the cafeteria—by the window, clean, and with a tablecloth laid out. Two caregivers stood beside him, one serving him food and the other pouring him water.

"His identity should be that of an investor's son." Zhou Lang recalled the settings in the dungeon information, "He was accidentally injured and hospitalized, enjoying super VIP treatment. His father is the wealthy businessman who colluded with the vice president to conduct human experiments."

"And what about his father?" Xiong Batian asked.

"Dead. Died from the torment of illness, and became a monster. An S-class monster."

Xiong Batian almost choked on his steamed bun.

"This dungeon has two S-rank instances?"

"One dean, one wealthy businessman," Zhou Lang said, holding up two fingers.

Han Yingying chimed in from the side, "The dean occasionally regains his senses—meaning he's sometimes an enemy and sometimes an ally. What about the wealthy businessman?"

"He was obsessed with resurrecting himself. He conducted human experiments while he was alive, and even after he died, he became a monster and continued to cause trouble."

The table was silent for a few seconds.

"I feel like this copy is even more outrageous than the last one." Xiong Batian stuffed a steamed bun into his mouth.

"It's more difficult than the last one, but the logic is clearer," Zhou Lang said. "The core conflict involves three parties—the dean wants to stop the experiment, the wealthy businessman wants to revive it, and the vice dean is caught in the middle, trying to avoid offending either side while also wanting to monopolize the results. As long as we exploit the conflict between them, there is room for maneuver."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It's not difficult to begin with."

Han Yingying glanced at him but didn't speak. She had grown accustomed to his nonchalant tone when facing life-or-death situations. She thought he was crazy when they first met, and now—well, she still thought he was crazy, just in a plausible way.

After finishing his meal and returning to the third floor, Zhou Lang handed over his night shift at the nurses' station. The nurse on duty was a tall, thin woman surnamed Liu, who spoke in a sarcastic tone.

"An intern working the night shift on their first day? Vice Dean Chen thinks highly of you."

"I guess it's because I'm good-looking." Zhou Lang opened the duty logbook.

Nurse Liu scoffed, pulled a key from her drawer, and tossed it to him: "This is the spare key to the third-floor ward. You'll need to check it if a patient rings the bell. Remember, finish all your rounds before midnight. After midnight—"

She lowered her voice.

"Lock the door to the nurses' station and don't go out."

What will happen after midnight?

Nurse Liu rolled her eyes: "Didn't you read the rules? When it's time, just do what you're supposed to do and stop asking unnecessary questions."

After saying that, she picked up her bag and left, the sound of her high heels clicking on the floor tiles fading into the distance.

Zhou Lang sat alone in the nurses' station. The lights in the third-floor corridor were still flickering, and the sweet, rotten smell wafted in from the east, becoming more and more noticeable as the night wore on.

At nine o'clock, he began his rounds.

Rooms 301 to 306 were six rooms, each housing two to three patients. He went into each room one by one to check the IV lines and vital signs monitors. Most of the patients were already asleep, but their sleeping positions were all strange—all lying on their backs with their hands at their sides, neatly arranged, like corpses in a morgue.

Zhou Lang lingered a little longer in room 305. Lying on the bed by the window was Li Ming—the player who was ill in real life. Li Ming wasn't asleep; he was staring at the ceiling with his eyes open.

"Can't sleep?"

Li Ming turned his head: "Tell me, what exactly is the treatment on the second day?"

"I don't know, but don't worry, it won't come to that."

"Do you have a solution?"

"I'm thinking about it," Zhou Lang said and left. It sounded a bit unreliable, but Li Ming watched his departing figure and inexplicably felt a little relieved. It was probably because when this intern said "I'm thinking about it," his tone was almost like asking "What should we eat later?"

307, Zhang Hai's private hospital room.

Zhou Lang pushed the door open and went in. Zhang Hai was still in the same position, facing the ceiling, with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"You told me not to go east this afternoon. Why?"

Zhang Hai's eyes turned to him, his mouth moving mechanically: "Gone...and won't come back..."

"Have you been there?"

"I...I wasn't a patient before...I was a doctor...Vice President Chen's...assistant..."

Zhou Lang's heart skipped a beat.

"Assistant? You participated in the experiment?"

Zhang Hai's body began to tremble, not from fear, but from some uncontrollable physiological reaction. His mouth opened and closed faster and faster, like a broken machine.