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

"That's an isolation ward," Chen Ling said, clearly familiar with the hospital's structure.

Zhou Lang walked over and looked inside through the observation window.

There was a person sitting inside.

No, it's the same thing. It's wearing a white coat and a mask, but its head is disproportionately large. It's way too big.

It is writing.

Zhou Lang glanced at it for a few seconds, then looked away.

"What did you see?" Han Yingying asked.

"A ghost is writing a medical record," Zhou Lang said calmly.

Chen Ling: "Write...write about whom?"

"I don't know. But if the hospital director doesn't exist, then the medical records might be a clue."

Han Yingying thought for a moment: "The rules say that the dean does not exist, but they don't say that the medical records do not exist."

"Yes." Zhou Lang glanced at her. "You've improved."

Han Yingying didn't reply, but the corner of her mouth twitched slightly.

Just then, a commotion arose downstairs.

The three walked to the top of the stairs and looked down. In the lobby on the first floor, the two solo players were clashing with the woman in red's group.

"Why should I give you the props?" a tall, thin man shouted.

"This is a prerequisite for cooperation," the woman in red said coldly. "How can we trust you if you don't hand it over?"

"I……"

A burly man snatched the item from the tall, thin man's hand. The tall, thin man struggled for a moment, but was held down by another man.

"Robbery!" Chen Ling watched from upstairs.

Zhou Lang remained silent.

Han Yingying frowned as she looked at the scene below: "Those two rogues—"

"Never mind it." Zhou Lang turned and walked back. "It's none of our business."

"But--"

"This is an S-rank instance." Zhou Lang didn't stop walking. "If you help him, he might not help you. But if you offend those people, they'll definitely get back at you. It's not worth it."

Han Yingying opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing more.

She knew Zhou Lang was right. But she just didn't feel comfortable.

The three continued searching upwards. They found nothing particularly noteworthy on the fourth and fifth floors. When they reached the sixth floor, the stairwell was blocked by an iron fence with a sign hanging above it.

[Dean's Office - No Entry Without Permission]

"The dean doesn't exist, but the office does." Zhou Lang looked at the sign.

"A contradiction," Han Yingying said.

"It's not necessarily a contradiction." Zhou Lang reached out and touched the iron fence. "It might be a matter of tense. The dean used to exist, but he no longer does."

Chen Ling scratched his head: "Is the medical record in there?"

"Most likely. But we can't get in now." Zhou Lang took a step back. "This fence isn't ordinary iron; my chainsaw can't cut it."

"What should we do then?"

Zhou Lang glanced at his watch. It was 4:30 PM.

"Let's look for other clues first," he said. "We need to get information out of that ghost who wrote the medical records tonight."

"Quotes?" Chen Ling's voice rose an octave. "You want to chat with a ghost?"

"What's wrong?" Zhou Lang asked, looking at him.

"No, it's nothing. You'll get used to it." Chen Ling's expression showed that he was not used to it at all.

Han Yingying said, "Let's find a safe room to stay in and wait for the consultation time to pass."

"No," Zhou Lang shook his head, "The consultation time is the key. The corridor being closed means the ghosts will be out and about. The ghost writing the medical records might also be on duty during consultation time."

"So your plan is to go find ghosts at dawn?" Han Yingying confirmed.

"right."

"With the corridor closed?"

"The doors inside the ward are not closed. Go through the window."

Han Yingying looked out the window. Third floor. Outside were bare walls, nothing to climb.

"How do you plan to leave through the window?"

Zhou Lang took something out of his pocket.

A rope. I don't know where it came from, it's coiled up several times.

"...When did you get it?" Han Yingying asked.

"In the pharmacy on the first floor. The metal tubes from the IV stand, plus a strip of curtain fabric." Zhou Lang shoved the rope into Chen Ling's hand. "Help me secure it."

Chen Ling took the rope, looked at it, and then looked at Zhou Lang.

He wanted to say something, but in the end only managed to utter, "Okay."

11:50 p.m.

The three of them stayed in a regular ward on the third floor. Chen Ling secured the rope to the window frame, and Zhou Lang checked it twice. Han Yingying sat on the edge of the bed, organizing the documents she had found in the various rooms.

"These medical records are all for ordinary patients." She flipped through a few pages, "but they have one thing in common—the section for the attending physician is completely blank."

"There's no doctor's name?" Chen Ling leaned closer to look.

"Yes. The nurse signed the consent form, and the examination report is available, but the attending physician's section is blank."

Zhou Lang took the document and looked at it: "There's no doctor, but there's a diagnosis."

"Hmm." Han Ying pointed to the diagnosis line. "And the diagnosis is very strange. Look at this—'Patient's chief complaint: I shouldn't have come here. Diagnosis: Denial. Prescription: Continue observation.'"

Chen Ling said, "What kind of lousy diagnosis is this?"

"Look at this one." Han Yingying turned to another page. "'Patient's chief complaint: I remember where the door is. Diagnosis: Hyperawareness. Prescription: Amnesia treatment three times.'"

The three remained silent for a while.

Zhou Lang spoke up: "These patients aren't patients."

"What do you mean?"

"They're players," Zhou Lang said, putting down the medical records. "The previous players. Those who didn't finish the game."

Chen Ling's face turned pale: "Then what about them now—"

"I don't know. Maybe it's become part of this place."

The hands on the watch struck twelve.

A sound came from the corridor. It wasn't footsteps, but the sound of metal scraping against metal. It sounded like something was moving inside the walls.

Then, a ray of light shone through the crack in the ward door. It wasn't lamplight; it was a fluorescent green.

"It's starting." Zhou Lang stood up.

He walked to the window and opened it. The night wind blew in.

"I'm going out. You all wait here."

Han Yingying stood up: "I'll go with you."

"Need not."

"I'm a better climber than you," Han Yingying said, leaving no room for negotiation.

Zhou Lang looked at her for two seconds.

"Okay." He climbed out the window. "Chen Ling, keep an eye on the door. If anything comes in, don't respond or make eye contact."

Chen Ling nodded and shrank under the bed.

Zhou Lang grabbed the rope and climbed down to the window of the next ward. He kicked the window open and climbed inside. Han Yingying followed him.

The next ward was empty. The two walked through the ward and came to the door.

Zhou Lang pressed his ear against the door and listened.

There was a sound outside. It was very faint, the sound of a pen nib gliding across paper.

"It's right outside the door," Zhou Lang said in a low voice.

Han Yingying nodded.

Zhou Lang opened the door.

The corridor was bathed in green light. The big-headed ghost in the white coat sat in the middle of the corridor, with a table in front of him, writing something.

It raised its head.

The eyes above the mask looked at Zhou Lang. They had no pupils; they were completely white.

Zhou Lang walked over, meeting its gaze.

"Hello," he said.

The ghost tilted its head slightly.

"I want to see what you're writing," Zhou Lang said, pointing to the paper on the table.

The ghost didn't move.

Zhou Lang waited for five seconds, then reached for the paper on the table.

The ghost's hand pressed down on the paper. It moved very quickly.