Hallucination

Harry spent the whole night wide awake, disturbed by the tiny, tireless little figures dancing before him.

He didn't know how many rounds of IV he had gone through, but with each bag, he felt slightly better. Whether it was because his poisoning wasn't too severe or because the medication was working, by dawn, the tiny dancers who had twirled all night with broken legs, still holding hands and chanting, finally retreated behind an unseen curtain, disappearing from view.

Finally able to shut his eyes, he drifted into a dazed sleep.

———

He awoke some time later, his bladder screaming for relief. Opening his eyes, he realized the outside world had already gone dark. Keith, who had been beside him, had left, and a new patient now occupied one of the nearby beds, sound asleep.

Harry figured that Keith and Kai Qiyan had only eaten a small portion of the mushrooms, the two having been too busy catching up with each other. If it hadn't been for Kai Qiyan's decision to avoid alcohol, the two middle-aged men might have celebrated their reunion with a drink.

Out of the three, Harry had been the only one to truly indulge in the meal, wolfing down most of the mushroom dish all on his own.

He reached under his pillow, feeling around for his phone, which was now out of battery. Through the door's glass window, the hallway beyond appeared dim, lit only by the soft glow of night lights.

His stomach growled. He had to find a way to charge his phone, so he decided to head over to the nurses' station and see if he could borrow a charger.

Pushing open the door to his room, the silence was eerie. The faint beeping of medical equipment and an almost imperceptible buzzing sound filled the air. Gripping his phone tightly, Harry walked toward the nurses' station. The wall clock above indicated it was already past 2 a.m.

'No wonder I'm so hungry', Harry thought to himself. He had slept through the entire day and most of the night.

Behind the counter sat a lone nurse in a pink uniform, her head resting on her arms as she napped. Looking around, Harry didn't see any other staff. He hesitated for a moment, then gently knocked on the desk.

The sound echoed much louder than he'd anticipated, the dull thuds resounding in the quiet corridor.

The nurse stirred, lifting her head slowly.

The left side of her face was perfectly made up, with neatly groomed eyebrows, rosy blush, and glossy lips. But the right side of her face was a charred mess, as if it had been scorched, the flesh cracked and blackened. Her skin, from the corner of her mouth to her cheek, was split open, revealing dark red flesh underneath. As she smiled, the wound widened further, exposing her back molars.

It would've been quite a sweet smile—if he only looked at the left side of her face.

Harry blinked, his throat expanding, ready to scream but he quickly composed himself. After what he'd seen yesterday, this was nothing, 'Calm down Harry, you have thought it through already.'

He'd watched tiny, tireless dancers twirl around with broken legs, saw kaleidoscopic lights flashing across Kai Qiyan's face, and even a giant pair of lips appearing on the wall—its teeth clashing against each other as one rogue molar knocked a wisdom tooth crooked.

Outside his window, a mushroom larger than the hospital itself had sprouted, and an old man had floated by, shaking his head in dismay before vanishing into the night.

At first, Harry had reflexively chanted, "I'm your daddy," to test whether these things were real or just hallucinations. But after a while, he got tired of it—his lips had gone numb from repeating it so often.

Besides, if he actually encountered a real person, saying something like that might draw unnecessary attention. Best not to risk provoking someone.

Now, seeing the half-burnt nurse didn't even faze him. In fact, Harry found himself staring at her cracked teeth, noting that one of her wisdom teeth seemed to be decayed.

Her nametag read "Jenny," and from the color of her uniform, she appeared to be an intern.

"Excuse me, could I borrow a charger? My phone's dead," Harry asked.

The burnt nurse looked at him, her expression puzzled. She reached up and touched her face, her fingers brushing against the charred skin, sending flakes of blackened flesh drifting to the floor. With her other hand, she casually pulled out a charger and placed it on the counter, all the while maintaining her unnerving smile.

"Is there something wrong with my face?" she asked.

"Your makeup's smudged a little. Long shifts, huh? I can't even see any dark circles, though. Honestly, your skin looks great. You don't need that much makeup," Harry said, his tone calm.

The burnt nurse blinked, surprised. Her smile became genuine, and she laughed.

"You know about makeup?" she asked, visibly amused.

"Uh, a bit…"

Before joining the mortuary, Harry had studied up a lot, and after starting work, he'd had some in-depth conversations with his colleagues, particularly one enthusiastic woman from the makeup department who had even given him a tube of homemade lip balm.

Now, Harry could understand why she might have been so eager to talk about makeup—it wasn't often she got to practice on living people.

"Just a little," Harry added. "I'm better at talking about it than actually doing it."

The burnt nurse smiled sweetly again, this time showing her decayed molars.

"Thanks for the tip! Any advice for keeping makeup intact under a mask?" she asked.

"Just reapply it often. Or, you could use a lighter foundation with good coverage, applied with a powder brush. If you set it with a shimmer cushion, it won't cake up as much," Harry replied, his tone matter-of-fact as he continued studying her face.

"Honestly, you've got great skin, not much dark circles either. Just stick to a light makeup routine with a bit of lip gloss. You'll look just as good without all the hassle."

The nurse giggled, the charred flakes on her face falling off with each laugh.

Harry's stomach growled loudly, breaking the moment. He plugged his phone into the nurse station's outlet to charge.

"I'll just grab a bite, been hungry all day," he said.

"Don't bother with takeout at this hour. The gates are locked. I've got some snacks here—help yourself," the burnt nurse offered, pulling out two plates from under the counter. One had a few small buns, the other some green bean cakes.

"They're a gift from someone else. I don't like sweet stuff; too fattening. You go ahead, don't let them go to waste."

"I couldn't…"

"Go on, eat up. Just don't wander around too much tonight," she urged.

Thanking her, Harry wasted no time tossing the green bean cakes into his mouth. After a day of hunger and weakness, he was famished. The nurse even poured him a cup of water as he ate.

They chatted as Harry finished off the snacks, leaving only one bun behind. Seeing him enjoy the food, the nurse pushed the last bun toward him.

"Better hurry back to your room before the patrol comes around," she said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Harry figured the last thing the hospital needed was him getting a nurse in trouble for chatting and eating on the job. He gathered his phone and charger, thanked her again, and headed back to his room.

Plugging in his phone, he started thinking that maybe he should treat the nurse to breakfast tomorrow as a thank-you gesture. She'd be finishing her shift by 7 a.m., just in time for a meal.

Settling back into bed, he thought, 'I'll never eat mushrooms again.'

The patient across from him was snoring softly, and not wanting to disturb anyone, Harry kept the lights off. His phone was still booting up, and soon, his exhaustion overtook him, lulling him back to sleep.

———

Around 3 a.m., a cold mist crept through the hospital's corridors, swirling into thin wisps of fog.

The doors to the floor swung open, and a middle-aged woman in a white lab coat stepped inside. Her face was rigid, her eyes cold. In her left hand, she held a clipboard, and in her right, a pen.

She passed each room, pausing to peer through the small windows on the doors before glancing at her clipboard and moving on to the next.

When she reached the nurse station, she glanced at the intern nurse—who sat upright, her expression stern and focused.

Suddenly, the nurse was flung backward, crashing into the wall. Flames seemed to flare across her charred right cheek, warping the shape of her face as her skull twisted.

BANG

"Argh..."

The searing pain was excruciating, but the nurse gritted her teeth, refusing to cry out.

Moments later, the nurse crumpled to the floor, her face drained of all color.

"Huff...Huff...Huff..."

The woman in the lab coat stepped forward, running a finger across the counter and picking up a crumb from one of the green bean cakes.

"No eating during work hours," she said coldly.

"I understand, Director. It won't happen again," the nurse stammered, her voice trembling.

The director's expression remained icy as she moved on.

When she reached Harry's room, she lingered at the door, staring at his sleeping figure for a long time. Her hand fidgeted with the pen in her grip, but eventually she said nothing and moved on, heading further down the corridor.

When the woman reached the last room at the end of the hallway, her face twisted grotesquely. One of her eyes slipped from its socket, dangling from her face by a thread of sinew. The blood vessels in her eye were red and bulging, leaking malice and fury. She stared intently at the empty bed in the room, where the sheets were haphazardly strewn.

With a trembling hand, she raised her clipboard and viciously checked off a box on the page.

Then, without a word, she turned and disappeared into the shadows at the end of the corridor.