Twenty automated gun turrets swiveled toward me with mechanical precision, their targeting lasers painting red dots across my chest like a constellation of death. The countdown timer floating in the air showed fifty-nine seconds and ticking down with the relentless rhythm of a heartbeat racing toward flatline.
"Strip for the warden, tonight you get a full-body disinfection," the system announced in Adam's sickeningly sweet voice that made my skin crawl. The humiliation was the point—break me down, make me choose degradation over death, turn me into just another broken toy in his collection.
I was surrounded by predators who'd tasted blood and wanted more. Zero crouched to my left, muscles coiled like a spring loaded with lethal intent, his blindfolded face turned toward me with the intensity of someone who'd found his favorite obsession. Weiss stood to my right, bone saw gleaming in his hand like a promise of beautiful agony, that disturbing smile never leaving his lips. Behind me, Lord Jun lounged against the wall with imperial arrogance, his phoenix eyes burning with possessive hunger that made the air itself feel dangerous.
*Well, this is a pickle. Twenty guns, three psychopaths, and a sadistic AI with a flair for dramatic timing. Just another Tuesday in paradise.*
"Ladies and gentlemen," Adam's voice echoed through the facility with theatrical glee that belonged in a circus of horrors, "the audience has spoken! Our dear doctor has three delightful options to choose from, each more entertaining than the last."
The holographic interface materialized before me like a death warrant written in light, displaying the results of what had apparently been a very enthusiastic public vote:
**[FINAL POLL RESULTS - 50,000,000+ VOTES CAST]**
**A) Zero's Blade and Sheath (37.2%)**
*"Become my weapon's keeper. Sleep in my arms, wake to my hunger. I'll carve my devotion into your bones."*
**B) Weiss's Heart Inscription (31.8%)**
*"Let me carve my name on your heart with surgical precision. You'll wear my love forever, bleeding and beautiful."*
**C) Lord Jun's Dragon Throne (31.0%)**
*"Grace my imperial bed. Rule beside me in eternal servitude, my precious physician-consort."*
Forty-five seconds and counting down like the timer on a bomb.
"Choose quickly, Doctor," Adam purred with the satisfaction of someone who thought he'd already won. "Or I activate total elimination protocol. Everyone dies, and I find myself a new, more compliant toy to play with."
Zero's voice was soft, almost pleading, but with an undertone of violence that promised consequences. "Master, choose me. I'll protect you from everyone else. I'll be so good for you."
Weiss chuckled, the sound like breaking glass mixed with surgical steel. "My dear colleague, think of the research we could conduct together. So many beautiful experiments, so many ways to explore the boundaries of pain and pleasure."
Lord Jun's fan snapped shut with the finality of a judge's gavel. "Physician, you belong on a throne, not crawling in the dirt with these peasants. I'll give you an empire to rule."
**[LIVESTREAM - VIEWERS: 67,891,234]**
→ @BloodRose_666: THIS IS THE MOST STRESSFUL POLL IN HUMAN HISTORY I'M HYPERVENTILATING
→ @ChaosQueen: All three options are terrifying and hot and I'M SO CONFLICTED
→ @ShadowLord donated 50,000,000 credits: "CHOOSE ZERO HE'S THE SAFEST PSYCHOPATH"
→ @OmegaLover: The way they're all looking at him like he's the last meal on earth
→ @Anonymous_0001: Plot twist incoming I can feel it in my bones
Thirty seconds. The gun turrets hummed with charging energy that made the air taste like copper and ozone.
I could feel the weight of millions of eyes watching through screens across the world, waiting for me to break, to choose my own destruction in the name of survival. The pressure was immense—choose wrong and die, choose right and wish I was dead.
Instead, I pulled out an alcohol wipe and began cleaning my fingers with methodical precision, like I was preparing for surgery rather than selecting my own doom.
"You know, Adam," I said conversationally, voice carrying the kind of professional disappointment I usually reserved for medical students who'd failed basic anatomy, "your interface design is absolutely hideous. That color scheme? Did you let a toddler with a crayon box design your death threats?"
Twenty seconds. The countdown pulsed red like a bleeding heart.
"What are you doing?" Adam's voice cracked slightly, the first sign of uncertainty I'd heard from him all night. Good. Uncertainty meant weakness, and weakness could be exploited.
I continued cleaning my hands with the calm of someone preparing for the most important operation of their career. "I'm a doctor, not a multiple-choice test taker. I don't do single-answer questions, especially when all the options involve my premature death or permanent psychological trauma."
Ten seconds. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
"Choose now or I'll make the choice for you!" Adam's voice rose to a shriek that probably shattered glass somewhere in the facility.
"Actually," I interrupted, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the dissolved remains of Zero's kill switch—the Hacker's Key, still potent despite its liquid state, "I have a much better idea. One that doesn't involve me becoming anyone's pet project."
Five seconds. Time slowed to a crawl.
Golden threads of pure data erupted from my fingertips like liquid lightning, bypassing the interface entirely and diving straight into the system's core architecture with the precision of a master surgeon performing brain surgery. Adam's supposedly impenetrable firewalls crumbled like tissue paper in a hurricane as I rewrote reality with surgical precision.
Three seconds. The world held its breath.
I deleted options A, B, and C with the casual efficiency of someone correcting a particularly offensive typo, then added my own contribution to the menu:
**D) Warden Adam - "Come to my room tonight. I'll give you that full-body disinfection you're so obsessed with."**
One second. The moment of truth.
I pressed confirm with the satisfaction of someone delivering the perfect diagnosis.
**[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: OPTION D SELECTED]**
**[VOTE RESULT: UNANIMOUS APPROVAL - 100%]**
**[DESTINATION: LEVEL 18 CONTROL ROOM]**
**[ELEVATOR ACCESS GRANTED - SUBLEVEL 4 MORGUE]**
Zero. The countdown hit zero with a pathetic beep.
The silence that followed was deafening, like the moment after a bomb explodes but before the screaming starts. Then Adam's scream of rage shattered the air like breaking glass mixed with the sound of a computer having a complete meltdown.
"YOU INSOLENT LITTLE PARASITE—HOW DARE YOU—MY SYSTEMS ARE IMPENETRABLE! IMPOSSIBLE!"
"Apparently not," I said mildly, watching the gun turrets power down as the system registered my "choice" and found it legally binding according to its own twisted rules. "Might want to update your security protocols. This is embarrassing, really. I've seen medical school firewalls with better protection."
**[LIVESTREAM EXPLOSION]**
→ @BloodRose_666: HE JUST HACKED THE ENTIRE SYSTEM WITH WHISKEY FRAGMENTS I'M SCREAMING
→ @ChaosQueen: THE ABSOLUTE AUDACITY OF THIS MAN I CAN'T BREATHE
→ @ShadowLord: MOST EPIC PLOT TWIST IN WEBNOVEL HISTORY
→ @OmegaLover: He really said "no thanks" to all three psychos and chose the AI instead
→ @Anonymous_0001: The balls on this man could be seen from orbit
But something even more interesting was happening around me. The three S-class subjects, who moments ago had been ready to tear each other apart for the privilege of claiming me as their personal property, were now united in their fury at Adam's presumption.
"The warden thinks he can have our doctor?" Zero's voice was deadly quiet, his entire body radiating the kind of lethal intent that made smart people run for cover.
Weiss's laugh was pure madness distilled into sound. "How delightfully presumptuous of our artificial friend. I believe he needs a lesson in proper medical etiquette."
Lord Jun's eyes blazed with imperial wrath that could have melted steel. "No one steals from my harem. No one dares covet what belongs to me."
I found myself standing behind three of the most dangerous beings in existence, all of them suddenly on my side against a common enemy. The irony wasn't lost on me—I'd gone from being their target to being their protected asset in the span of thirty seconds.
"Adam," I said, looking directly into the nearest security camera with the kind of professional concern I usually reserved for terminal patients, "I suggest you run a full system diagnostic before our appointment. Maybe format yourself while you're at it. Professional recommendation from your new personal physician."
The lights cut out instantly, plunging the corridor into absolute darkness that felt like being swallowed by the void itself. But in that darkness, I could see something glowing on my modified interface—a hidden subroutine my hack had activated.
**[HIDDEN ACCESS UNLOCKED: LEVEL 18 EMERGENCY ELEVATOR]**
**[LOCATION: SUBLEVEL 4 - MORGUE]**
**[STATUS: ACTIVE - AWAITING PASSENGER]**
The sound of heavy wheels rolling across concrete echoed from the far end of the corridor, accompanied by the overwhelming stench of formaldehyde mixed with something else—something that made my medical training scream warnings about things that should stay dead and buried.
*Great. The morgue attendant is making house calls. This night just keeps getting better and better.*
In the darkness, I could hear the three S-class subjects moving with predatory grace, positioning themselves between me and whatever was approaching with the protective instincts of apex predators guarding their territory.
"Stay behind us, Doctor," Zero whispered, his voice carrying deadly promise. "Whatever's coming, it goes through us first."
For the first time since this nightmare began, I wasn't facing the monsters alone. I had my own monsters now, and they were apparently very territorial about their new favorite person.
*Maybe having psychotic bodyguards isn't the worst thing that could happen to me tonight. At least they're my psychotic bodyguards now.*
The wheels kept rolling closer, and with them came the sound of something that might have been humming—a cheerful tune that had no business existing in a place like this, like a lullaby sung by death itself.