Chapter 79: The Elevator to the Morgue

ICU, the Intensive Care Unit, is a place for patients gravely ill and teetering on the edge of life and death.

The boy's mother lay on the hospital bed, an oxygen tube attached to her. Her hands were turned upward, fingers naturally splayed. Her state didn't resemble sleep but rather a deep coma.

How could someone in such a critical condition remove their medical tubes and leave the room? A possible answer slowly formed in my mind.

I knocked lightly on the door. The boy turned to glance at me before slowly opening it.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his head bowed, repeating his earlier words.

I looked at his young face. There were no signs of being slapped, just lingering tears he hadn't wiped away.

"How long has your mother been like this?"

"A day and a night."

"What about your dad? Why are you here alone?"

At the mention of his father, the boy buried his head between his shoulders, clenching his hands into fists and saying nothing.

"Sorry," I said softly, retreating to the doorway. Before leaving, I asked one last question: "Who told you to knock on the door of Room 9114? It wasn't your mother, was it?"

"No," the boy said, looking past me. "It was an old man."

"What did he look like?"

"His face was deeply wrinkled, and… he didn't have a body, only a head."

"Just a head?!" Shutting the door, I headed toward Room 9114. Children often spoke nonsense, but who's to say their words couldn't hold truth?

When Jiang Shihan had her episode, she'd pointed toward the window. Back then, I used the Hell Show phone to capture an image of an old, weathered face.

Now that I thought about it, the memory gave me chills. That face had appeared in the glass window of the door. For a normal person, it would mean they were about my height.

The dim corridor stretched before me, silent and still. All the rooms were unlit, their interiors shrouded in darkness. Peering inside revealed nothing of value.

Passing the nurse's station, I noticed the on-duty nurse still hadn't returned. Seeing no one around, I vaulted over the counter.

The station was small. The front housed the nurse's desk, and the back had a private room. Some departments required 24-hour rotations, so doctors could rest here at night.

Pushing the door open, I found duty logs, patient records, and detailed information on each hospital room laid out on the desk.

The walls displayed duty regulations, emphasizing patient care and mandatory rounds.

On paper, the staff appeared diligent and dedicated.

But in reality, the nurse had been absent for over an hour, and the hospital hadn't responded. Both nurses and doctors seemed to have deliberately ignored the top floor.

"Could this be a hint from Director Li?" I muttered, now 70% convinced that Huang Guanxing's death wasn't orchestrated by the Hell Show. Had it been, there wouldn't have been such obvious traces—like how Old Man Huang was struck by an out-of-control truck.

Those deaths were clean and indisputable, leaving no room for investigation.

In comparison, Huang Guanxing's death was peculiar, riddled with hidden schemes.

"The more tricks they play, the more they expose." Staying tonight had been a wise decision. Around Jiang Shihan, I saw the complex web of relationships behind her.

But was it necessary for someone as high up as Director Li to get personally involved just to stop a patient's transfer?

"They're afraid—afraid that my presence might trigger unpredictable consequences."

Finding Jiang Shihan's records and Room 9114's notes, I started flipping through them.

"Admitted on the 23rd at 4:00 PM, transferred from the Jiang City Police Department. Per requests from Qian Ding Pharmaceuticals and her family, admitted to VIP care in Room 9114."

"Night of the 23rd: Patient displayed severe dehydration, intermittent seizures, and difficulty breathing."

"6:00 AM on the 24th: Patient reported hallucinations, describing imagined scenes to nurses, doctors, and family."

"9:00 PM on the 24th: Self-harm tendencies and abnormal behavior intensified, attacking medical staff."

"11:00 PM on the 24th: Condition improved after medication injection."

"9:00 AM on the 25th: Psychiatric evaluation by Henshan Mental Hospital specialists commenced."

"Noon on the 25th: Patient resumed normal eating but refused communication."

"7:00 PM on the 25th: Patient used personal items to draw on walls and ceilings."

"11:00 PM on the 25th: Self-harm resumed."

"2:00 AM on the 26th: Patient attempted to escape the room, breaking the door lock, but was stopped by on-duty staff."

The notes were detailed, but two strange points stood out.

First, Jiang Shihan's symptoms weren't severe initially. Her condition worsened with each treatment.

Second, all her erratic behaviors occurred at night—never during the day.

"Same person, two completely different behaviors. Is the change in her? Or is it the environment?"

Ever since entering Room 9114, I'd repeatedly heard a similar phrase: "Don't close your eyes after dark."

What did it mean? If I closed my eyes, would something terrifying appear? Or did the hospital's top floor transform at night?

After reading everything, I found no mention of Jiang Shihan's specific treatments.

Her primary doctor was a recently returned psychiatrist. Perhaps finding him would unravel the mystery.

"Henshan Mental Hospital." I noted the name before returning the items and hopping out of the nurse's station.

The door to Room 9114 was still ajar, soft light spilling into the corridor.

"If I get through tonight, the upper hand will be mine."

But as I took a few steps, I stopped abruptly. My eyes locked on broken glass shards on the floor.

"Is that…?" The jagged shards were speckled with blood—hard to spot unless you looked closely.

"Not good!" I shouted, flinging the door open.

Room 9114 was empty.

"Jiang Shihan is gone!" Panic surged. I yanked back the curtains and peered under the bed.

"Nothing. No one. She's gone."

From the ICU to now, only four or five minutes had passed. Yet someone had spirited her away during that brief window.

"They can't have gone far. There's still time to catch up!"

Pulling out my phone, I called the police, then turned on my flashlight and followed the blood trail.

"The glass shards point east. She must've gone that way."

Not far down the hall, I spotted more blood. My hunch was right.

But what I saw next made my unease grow. The blood trail stopped at the central elevator.

"They used the elevator?" Glancing at the floor indicator, a cold sweat broke out: Basement Level 3.

I didn't know what was in the hospital's basement, but it couldn't be good—likely the morgue.

"Why take her there? To frighten her to death?"

Such a method would be far crueler than a knife, a torment of the soul that consumed every nerve until death came in utter despair.

"No, I have to save her!"

The elevator wouldn't come, so I bolted for the stairwell, hurtling downward like a madman.