Hospital

The hospital smells faintly of antiseptic and something older—dust and stale air trapped in long, empty corridors. A single flickering light buzzes overhead as you’re led past faded patient rooms, most with their doors shut. The place feels almost deserted, but the distant echo of heels on tile tells you it’s not.

Your escort, a tall nurse in tight white scrubs with her name tag reading “Nurse Asha”, glances over her shoulder with a small, sly smile. “Not many fresh faces here,” she says softly, her tone holding more weight than the words suggest. “The others will… notice.”

From a doorway ahead, a young patient in a faded hospital gown leans lazily against the frame. Her hair is messy, lips curled in a slow grin as her eyes sweep over you. She doesn’t speak—just lets her gaze linger, deliberately.

Asha stops in front of a heavy metal door at the far end of the hall. “Your room,” she murmurs, slipping the key into the lock. “Settle in. The staff will come by for… orientation.”

Somewhere down the corridor, muffled laughter rises, followed by a female voice calling out, low and drawn, “He’s here…”