Chapter 16: The Asylum Pantomime: 15

Hearing this, Chong Jiu gave Nan Lin a long, searching look and murmured under his breath, whether in mockery or envy, “Ruan Yu. He’s a lucky one.”

Nan Lin tilted his head, fingertips covering the face in the photo. “What?”

“Nothing. I said Ruan Yu is pitiful.” Chong Jiu closed his eyes and refused to engage further.

Nan Lin turned the words over in his mind. Pitiful?

He certainly looked pitiful. And very good-looking. Better-looking than any of his previous little pets.

Silence fell over the room. Perhaps from the severity of his injuries, Chong Jiu drifted into unconsciousness again not long after lying down.

Nan Lin moved his hand aside and saw that the photo showed the current director. He felt a quiet sense of inevitability settle over him.

There had to be some overlooked connection between Chong Jiu and the current director.

With that thought, Nan Lin began methodically flipping through Chong Jiu’s records from the first page to the last.

He discovered that this person’s mental evaluations had been specially marked as critically poor several months ago, even once branded with the label “insane.”

But now…

Nan Lin stole another discreet glance at the man. The current Chong Jiu was far from normal, but he bore absolutely no resemblance to the word “madman.”

This dramatic transformation had begun when his attending physician was replaced by the current director.

Why such a marked difference?

And Chong Jiu’s faint but persistent defense of the director.

Nan Lin closed the medical file and leaned back in the chair, his gaze drifting out the window, thoughts unreadable.

After a while, he shifted slightly to let the right side of his body take more of the weight. At the same time, he lifted his outer garment. The bloodstains seeping through beneath it made his vision swim. Pressing his lips together, he stood and moved behind the curtain.

The details of the murder day still hadn’t fully returned to him. He only remembered that an unusually large number of people had come and gone that day. The two brothers from the Tribunal had been seated to his right. And…

Nan Lin clutched his head. The phantom sensation of a blade piercing his body struck again. And the person who had been lying in wait in his quarters.

[Player Nan Lin’s sanity decreased: 35→32]

A muffled groan of suppressed pain came from behind the curtain. Nan Lin frowned faintly. He draped his outer garment aside and his hands appeared to be unwrapping something. The scent of blood thickened in the air as drops traced a slow path down his fingertips.

After a long while, Nan Lin finally exhaled in relief, tying off the fresh bandage with trembling fingers.

He stared at the blood-soaked strip of cloth in his hand, then tossed it expressionlessly into his personal inventory.

He couldn’t keep putting this off.

He needed to enter the Inverted Side’s asylum again as soon as possible.

But how had he gotten in last time?

Nothing special had happened. If he had to pinpoint anything… maybe it was Ruan Yu grabbing his hand just before they entered the elevator?

Nan Lin glanced back at the sleeping Chong Jiu and nodded.

He would take Chong Jiu along to try. If the man refused… he’d beat him senseless first and then take him.

According to the schedule he’d found in the reading room, the next two hours were game time.

Game time…

Nan Lin murmured the words. After all, at this time yesterday, he had still been locked in solitary confinement.

Ten minutes left of nap time.

Just then, the hospital room door was suddenly thrown open. Nan Lin turned almost simultaneously to find the familiar female nurse standing in the doorway.

Her eyeballs rolled slowly toward him. She tapped the clipboard in her hand, her voice grating. “Nan Lin, why did you change rooms without authorization?”

Chong Jiu, on the bed, seemed startled awake by the words. He lifted his head with difficulty, shot a glance over, curled his lip into a cold smirk, and buried his face back in the pillow’s stench.

As if sensing Chong Jiu’s movement, Nan Lin tucked the medical file out of sight before explaining, “My roommate got in trouble and was locked up.”

The nurse said, “Your roommate? Ruan Yu?”

Nan Lin nodded ever so slightly. His ink-dark eyes held little light as he added, “Besides, there’s no explicit rule forbidding patients from switching rooms.”

His words were calm, yet somehow carried an air of absolute self-righteousness.

The nurse let out a strange, murmuring laugh. “Rules not written on the sheet do indeed take no effect. Compared to your foolishly suicidal roommate, you at least count as obedient.”

“So congratulations. You get to enjoy the happiest part of the day: game time.”

Her tone was peculiar, the cadence stiff and mocking, enough to make the hairs on one’s arms stand on end.

But to Nan Lin.

“Understood.”

He pointed at Chong Jiu. “What about him? He has to go too, right?”

The nurse followed his finger and saw Chong Jiu’s half-dead condition. Her lips twitched.

Hearing this, Chong Jiu’s hand under the blanket shot Nan Lin a middle finger. He stopped pretending to sleep and raised his head. “You think I can play games in this state?”

To his surprise, Nan Lin fell silent for a moment, then asked with utter sincerity: “Can you request sick leave?”

Chong Jiu’s mind went blank. Wait… I actually can’t, can I…

But whether it was his imagination or not, Chong Jiu felt a flash of something like disappointment in Nan Lin’s eyes.

Hold on. What exactly are you disappointed about?

He glanced at the blank-faced nurse by the door, his eyes screaming: Are you sure this one is normal?

“Chong Jiu, Nan Lin. Report to the Green Field within five minutes. The game is about to begin.” She finished and walked out on her small heels.

Once the nurse left, Nan Lin folded his arms and turned to Chong Jiu. “Getting up on your own, or?”

“What? If I say no, are you going to carry me?” Chong Jiu shot back sarcastically.

“No. But if you can’t get up, I’ll drag you.”

Nan Lin’s tone left no room for doubt.

Chong Jiu, unwilling to be dragged, forced himself upright, wincing through gritted teeth and shooting Nan Lin a venomous glare.

Soon, the two arrived one behind the other at the overgrown Green Field. A figure stood at the very front, checked the time, and called out in a loud voice:

“Welcome to our most popular block of the day: game time!”

“Unlike before, since we have new friends joining us, we’ve made some adjustments to the rules.”

“Hidden somewhere in this asylum are five daggers stained with the Nightingale’s blood.”

“Daggers spawn at random. Whoever finds one may attack anyone else, including patients, nurses, doctors, and even the director.”

These were the rules of a chaotic, murderous game of cat and mouse. Chong Jiu laughed with unmistakable glee, curious to see what Nan Lin would do.

But when he turned around, he found Nan Lin’s gaze still cool and detached, eyes fixed thoughtfully on the right-side building.

Chong Jiu blinked in confusion.

Nan Lin said, “Move.”

Chong Jiu’s confusion doubled.

Nan Lin seized Chong Jiu and pulled him toward the right-side building.

Chong Jiu couldn’t break free. Not knowing where Nan Lin was taking him, his instinctive refusal made his voice rise.

“Nan Lin! Let me tell you! Letting you share a nap with me was the absolute maximum concession I was willing to make! And now you want me to play games with you?! Forcing me on top of it?!”

Nan Lin frowned and turned at the accusation, but at that exact moment, he heard an unexpected voice.

“Brother…”