"I‘m not sick!"

In the dead of night, a silver moon hung high, casting a layer of white frost over the entire land. Surrounding the area were dilapidated, low-rise concrete buildings, their broken walls belonging to a bygone era. The air was heavy and damp.

A young boy slowly walked down the path. He was dressed in a pure black jacket, zipped up to the collar, black jeans, black canvas shoes, and carried a black backpack slung across his shoulder. At just eighteen, he had been diagnosed with multiple mental disorders. These illnesses, layered on one person, were like pouring a mixture of chemical reagents into a beaker all at once, tangling and interfering with each other unpredictably. The cause of his conditions was unknown, baffling.

Dr. House was the boy's attending physician, who had never seen such a young patient with such complex conditions. Given the multiple disorders, Dr. House prescribed a medication for the boy — serotonin. At 0.6g, six pills a day, it was meant to suppress brain activity, simplifying it to slowing down and dulling the brain's responses, leading to a quieter, simpler, and forgetful existence. It essentially suppressed the myriad of psychological diseases from the root, preventing overthinking and incomprehensible actions.

The boy remembered the medication box, adorned with a smiling sunflower, which led him to nickname the pills "happy pills." However, for 15 months, he hadn't taken a single one. The pills piled up at home.

"I'm not sick," the boy murmured, his head slightly lowered as he passed by a collapsed sewer, emanating a foul smell. A cool night breeze blew over the broken sewer, producing a low, moaning sound as if a terrifying monster was about to burst forth.

In that moment, the boy's body began to tremble slightly. His face turned crimson as if his blood was boiling, and sweat beaded on his forehead. His pupils dilated and contracted in quick succession, as if he was struggling to suppress something. His head ached as though his brain was being drilled.

Then, a series of images flashed through his mind — bizarre, blue figures illuminated as if under a counterfeit detector. The first scene was of distant figures pointing and whispering, "Hey, look at that boy. He seems so normal, but I heard he has terrible mental illnesses. We better stay away from him..." The boy frowned, "I'm not sick."

The second scene featured a beautiful girl, Shangguan Xiaotao, staring at the boy's retreating figure bathed in the sunset. She gently pulled on her backpack strap, watching him go. "Look how quiet he is, harmless like a clean little rabbit," she mused dreamily. Her friend chuckled, "Xiaotao, you couldn't possibly... He's mentally ill, you know." The lone boy walking tightened his brow, eyes fixed on the ground, "I'm not sick."

The third scene was a gentle man in an office, comforting him. "Qin Yiguan... your name is Qin Yiguan, right?" "The Yiguan from 'dressed neatly and properly?'" "Yes, 'dressed neatly and properly!' What a good name." "Don't mind the gossip outside. With me here, no one dares to discriminate against you. Keep it up." The solitary boy on the path seemed to lose focus for a moment, then his expression turned desolate, "I'm not sick."

After that, a scene flashed through the boy's mind. It was a dark room with a thick stack of documents on the desk. The content of these documents was all the same, with serial numbers ranging from 1 to 99.

—After investigation, the applicant is found to have severe neurological disorders, application denied.

The boy clenched his teeth, his facial muscles trembling slightly with agitation.

His pupils shrank and then dilated, and he growled, "I'm not sick."

At that moment, the boy looked up towards the distance, having reached the edge of the area. In the wasteland ahead, a small concrete hut stood under the hazy moonlight, isolated without any other buildings around.

He had arrived at his destination.

Taking a deep breath, the boy's expression calmed down. As he regulated his breathing, he once again calmly told himself—'I'm not sick'.

The boy stepped forward, slowly unlocking the thick iron chain on the wooden door.

Creak.

Pushing open the rotten wooden door, the metal hinges made a piercing screeching sound.

The windows of the concrete house were made of thick steel bars, casting pale, checkered patches of moonlight on the ground.

In the corner, a girl was curled up.

She wore a white dress, barefoot, with long, smooth black hair, young and beautiful.

At this moment, the girl was shaking violently, as if trying to bury herself into the corner. Her watery eyes trembled with terror as she looked at the boy.

The boy was tall, 179 cm.

Standing in front of the girl, his shadow loomed behind him, his face illuminated by the white moonlight, pale and calm.

Qin Yiguan just quietly observed the girl. The air was eerily silent for a full two minutes.

"What... are you going to do..."

The girl curled up even tighter, her white toes trembling violently.

The boy stared at the girl's white feet and smooth calves. His originally calm eyes suddenly turned cold.

The girl, panicked, grabbed her skirt tightly, covering her calves and feet.

The boy noticed a small angel painted on the edge of the girl's skirt, seemingly her own little touch, a personal masterpiece. However, the cold sweat seeping from her palms had smeared the paint, turning the little angel blurry, twisted, and sinister.

The boy's breathing became rapid again, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly—a pathological low chuckle.

He could no longer suppress it.

Slowly reaching into his backpack, he pulled out a gleaming dagger, reflecting the moonlight onto the girl's face.

"You!"

"What are you going to do!"

The girl screamed in despair, shrinking towards the wall, her feet churning the soil.

The boy slowly advanced.

His expression eerily calmed for a moment, then a faint smile appeared, admiring the girl for a few seconds before his expression turned ferocious.

"Heh, you... are too tempting!"

The boy's eyes flickered with a bloodthirsty light, also hiding hysterical madness.

And then, the quiet boy 'disappeared'.

Biting his teeth, grinning, he let out a low chuckle, raising the dagger in his hand, stabbing towards the girl!

The girl's screams echoed through the night sky!

One stab...

Two stabs...

The girl gradually went silent.

The boy did not stop there, the dagger continuously slicing!

10 minutes later, the boy, covered in blood, slowly lifted his head, his features twisted, teeth clenched, the low laughter still ongoing.

"Heh heh..."

"Heh heh..."

Only the boy's laughter echoed in the hut, his palm resting on his forehead, leaving a terrifying bloody handprint.

"My name is Qin Yiguan, the Yiguan of 'a beast in gentleman's clothing'!"

"I'm not sick!"