The heavy iron doors of the hospital screamed as they opened, a sound like a human cry torn from a throat in pain. Mercy, Lily, and Sarena stepped inside on silent feet. A deep stillness filled the lobby, broken only by the faint buzz-buzz of old tube lights flickering overhead. The air carried the sharp stench of aged phenyl and medicines, mixed with a strange, decaying chill—as if something were rotting behind the walls.
They had barely started moving toward the reception desk when a shadow suddenly rose from the dark corridor.
"Stop! Who are you people?"
A ward boy stood in front of them, his uniform long gone grimy, dark hollows carved beneath his eyes. He had clearly been startled by the sight of them; the torch in his hand trembled violently. "What are you doing here at this hour? This is a hospital, not a guesthouse. And coming here at this time isn't free of danger."
