Sunlight filtered through the small window, falling on a hospital bed where a man still lay unconscious, his face covered by a soft sheet. His dim, wide-open eyes could barely make out his surroundings. Gripping the metal rails on either side of the bed, he forced himself to sit up.
"Ah~ah… it hurts so much… where am I?"
The pain flashed briefly as he just regained consciousness. A numb, throbbing sensation spread throughout his body.
"What pierced my skin like this?"
He noticed a piece of broken glass, sharp as a knife, somehow placed on the bed. Gripping it, he slowly raised it up. The sunlight hit his eyes directly, making him wince. Furrowing his brows, he raised a hand to shield himself from the ceiling light.
"Why am I here?"
Holding the shard of glass in his hand, he couldn't tell who had placed it there. Hesitant, he tried to recall what he looked like. Looking into the mirror, he saw his hollow face. His long black hair reached his nape, his pale blue eyes stark against his dark clothes, his thin, lifeless body betraying his fragility.
"Where on earth is this?"
Still holding the shard, his eyes scanned his surroundings, uncertain. A pungent smell of medicine and bandages hung in the air.
"What strange illness did I have that landed me in a hospital? I can't remember anything… some kind of post-traumatic effect after my illness? The only thing I remember is my name: Isaac. Before I passed out here, I think I saw a shadowy figure… humanoid."
He sat up, gripping the broken glass, thinking. The shard felt solid, yet dangerously sharp.
"Why is this piece of glass here, when the window next to me is still intact? Who would place a broken shard right on a patient's bed? How strange… and no one seems to be beside me."
Accidentally, he dropped the shard. It sliced his hand, and blood began dripping onto the white blanket. That shard triggered a memory. Goosebumps rose. A mild headache. A bitter taste. A suffocating feeling. His vision blurred as he fell into a bottomless, dark pit. He thrashed his hands and feet in vain. A violent impact—his ribs felt like they might shatter. His trembling hands finally made out some shapes.
Flashing streetlights. A woman sprawled on the street, surrounded by a pool of deep red blood. Police stood guard at the scene. Yellow tape, streaked with black letters reading "Do Not Enter," fluttered. A shadowy figure stood not far away. Then the memory abruptly cut off.
"What was that memory? A nightmare?"
Sweat poured from his body, his heart raced. His limbs trembled uncontrollably. The familiar flash of lights. A cold wind down his spine that felt both strange and familiar.
He reached behind his neck. It felt like hundreds of black ants crawling on him. Touching his face, he noticed something.
"This? Something's not right… what's behind my ear?"
It felt hard and soft at the same time. Using the shard to look, he saw a silver earring piercing his ear.
"But why am I only noticing this now? I didn't see it when I looked in the mirror earlier… maybe I wasn't looking carefully, but it doesn't matter anymore."
Turning his head, he looked at the fruit bowl. Something remained from before—a small folded piece of paper reading: "Wish you a speedy recovery!"
"'You'? Do I have a sibling? My mind's blank… I need to ask when the person who left this paper comes."
He noticed a faint shadow standing there, staring. His eyes dulled as the shadow approached. He reached for it but couldn't touch it.
"Another hallucination? This time a shadow? Feels like I've seen this somewhere… why is it here?"
His heart thumped wildly, his body reacting subconsciously, moving back. A voice suddenly cut through his swirling thoughts.
"Are you okay?"
A deep, warm voice rang in his ear. He froze, slowly returning to reality. A man with pale blonde hair, wearing a white long-sleeved coat over a gray shirt, a small stethoscope around his neck, glasses, pale skin, and a moustache. Black leather pants and a silver-black watch on his left wrist.
"You're my doctor?"
His face showed a mix of confusion and relief.
"Yes, I am the doctor in charge of your treatment. I heard you just woke up, so I came by."
"What's wrong with me that I passed out and ended up here?"
"I know you're disoriented. Take it easy, I'll explain everything. But first, let me introduce myself. My name is Jeff—Jeff Hardy, neurologist."
He continued, resting his chin in his hand confidently.
"Your body was stimulated by something that damaged your nerves, affecting your left cerebral hemisphere. The result: symptoms like seizures, loss of consciousness, or even partial memory loss."
"But what could have damaged my nerves?"
Looking around, he tried to find the broken shard, but strangely, it had vanished.
He looked up at Jeff, astonished.
"Did you see any shards of glass around here or on my bed?"
"What do you mean? Who would put broken glass on a patient's bed?"
"While I was unconscious, did anyone visit me? A relative, a friend?"
"Apparently, someone claiming to be your sister visited. She was kind and even left a gift."
"Jeff, do you remember if she said her name?"
"Could it be that you forgot your own sister's name?"
"Maybe… I don't remember having a sister. The only thing I recall are fragmented memories right before I passed out."
"You're more seriously affected than I thought. You'll probably need to stay here longer. Residual effects from your illness."
"So the shard I saw… was it a hallucination? But I cut my hand on it."
Panicking, he looked at his hands. Strangely, the injury was gone.
The doctor watched him thoughtfully, hands in pockets. Seeing the patient still shaken, he recalled something.
"You know… I once had a rare, incurable illness. I couldn't afford treatment. But a doctor cured me, and I still remember it vividly."
"You were like me? You just passed out for no reason?"
The doctor replied gently.
"Not necessarily, but your case is the first of its kind I've seen. I've treated thousands over 7 years, but never anyone like you, without a clear cause."
"My illness is that rare? Maybe it's not even called a disease. But I hope you can help me remember who I am. I want to meet the person claiming to be my sister."
"Okay, but truly, you don't remember your age, where you live, anything?"
"Except my name… Isaac, right?"
"Yes, Isaac. That name is deeply etched in your subconscious. After leaving the hospital, a psychologist may help you remember more."
From his coat pocket, he took out small yellow-red capsules and poured a glass of warm water from a silver kettle on the nearby two-tiered cabinet.
"Since you remember your name, I'll call you Isaac. Take your time, I won't leave until I know you're truly better."
"What do these pills do? Can they help me remember?"
On a small white plate were two pills. His vision blurred, head spinning. Looking up at the doctor, he only saw a dark haze with countless glowing eyes.
"Am I hallucinating again? I can't even see you clearly."
Lines of text appeared, blocking his vision, incomprehensible.
"Do not trust anyone, do not trust anyone, do not trust anyone…""…I am watching you, I am watching you, I am watching you…"
The silver earring glinted, emitting a strange warning light. Flashing images began: a little girl playing with someone in a sunrise-lit field; raindrops falling on a dry grave as cries echoed; the same familiar shadow standing in the corner, witnessing everything.
"You… why did you end your own life?"
A female voice echoed through the rain.
"Isaac… are you okay?"
Snapped back from a daze, startled by Jeff's voice. His limbs reacted instinctively.
"I think so… I'm not sure who I am or what's happening to me."
"Schizophrenia? That's just my preliminary guess based on outward symptoms. Too early to tell."
Isaac responded.
"Whispering voices… forgetting myself… hallucinations… I'm not sure."
"Take the pills I gave you. They might help."
His cloudy eyes made everything feel sped up.
"One second, two seconds, three… still not the right moment. Patience is key."
The dim ceiling light fell on his dazed eyes. The stench of blood and decay filled the small room. A simple chair sat in the middle. A basin next to it contained pliers and a bloody saw.
"A masterpiece… truly a beautiful work. You wouldn't understand the excitement and joy. Perhaps you should witness it."
His throat locked, unable to speak. Gradually, vision returned.
"This is just a dream… right?"
"Dream? There's no dream here. Open your eyes, Isaac, and you will see. Be grateful and lucky to witness this."
The voice was familiar yet strange. Isaac's body was bound to the chair.
"Jeff? Is that you? Why tie me here? Even if I'm ill, this is a human rights violation. Let me go!"
A cloth tightly covered his eyes. He bit down. Hands stuck to the wooden chair.
"You're a murderer, or do you plan to harvest my organs? What is this terrible smell?"
"Murderer? No, I'm not a filthy beast. I'm an artist. You should see my paintings."
"What kind of artist locks and tortures an innocent person? You claim I'm mentally ill, but you're worse. Let me go!"
"Maybe you should try some new toys of mine?"
"If anything happens to me here, it's on you! The hospital will find out soon, and you'll face consequences."
"Consequences? They won't suspect if you die by suicide. Who cares about a mental patient?"
"You're joking… please, release me."
Jeff approached a wooden shelf, the scent of wood masking the blood.
"Beautiful, isn't it? A true masterpiece."
A saw with sharp teeth roared, amplifying Isaac's fear. He struggled, arms trembling.
"What… what will you do with it? You're insane, Jeff! First you lock me, now a saw?"
"Not realized? I'm just testing its sharpness. Won't hurt, I promise."
"You want to kill me? Please let me go! I won't tell anyone."
"Kill? Such a crude word. I'm just painting my canvas."
"I swear I won't tell anyone. If it's money you want, I'll give my life to earn it. Just let me go. If this is a joke, stop it."
"Money doesn't matter. My only desire is to pursue my passion."
"What passion?"
Jeff approached with the saw on. Isaac's eyes filled with tears, fear overwhelming him. Sweat poured, heart racing, limbs shaking.
"Please… let me go!"
Pain tore through him. Blood seeped from trembling hands. He screamed.
"As you see, I've calculated everything. This is a soundproof room. No one can hear us. Especially since you're in the middle of an empty field."
Silver pliers in Jeff's hands. Isaac's face contorted, consciousness fading.
"Why torture a patient? Why not just kill me and end this?"
Tears fell. He looked up at the ceiling, feeling his life ending.
"If you want that, fine. This will be your signature."
Jeff stood, kicking a metal bucket. Its clatter echoed. In his hands, a silver gun from the shelf.
"I'll give you a quick, painless death with this pistol."
Finger on the trigger. Before Isaac could react, a shot rang.
"BANG!"
…
"I'm still alive? Why? I thought I was dead."
Isaac looked carefully. Jeff lay dead, shot in the head, blood pooling. Isaac still tied. The gun fired. Hands unsteady, he dropped the gun, backing away.
"Did I kill him? Impossible… Jeff meant to kill me. But leaving his body here… I'll be suspected. Yet I didn't shoot him, right?"
"Then who?"
Isaac trembled, lying on the floor. No one in sight. Staring at Jeff's corpse, backing against the wall. Blank eyes, pale face.
"If it wasn't me, then who? Did I free myself and shoot to protect? But it's too impossible… too unreal. Did I really kill Jeff?"
From afar, a shadow appeared in darkness. A humanoid figure slowly advanced. Isaac fired at it, round after round, but nothing happened.
"BANG, BANG, BANG…"
His body shook. The shadow was not a mere silhouette—it was a man with golden-brown hair in a classy suit. Blue eyes, dazzling smile. Black polished shoes, tall and handsome. Kneeling before Isaac, a silver earring gleamed, identical to Isaac's.
"Why? Are you afraid of me? Pardon my boldness."
Seeing the silver earring, something within Isaac stirred.
"Do not fear, do not fear."
Red eyes, long stag horns, layered scales visible. Countless souls screaming clung to him. Ripped from delirium, Isaac's vision blurred, responding only:
"Who… who are you? How did you get here? I can explain—Jeff was not killed by me."
Then came something unforgettable. Bright light filled the room. Wings spread like a swan. A dazzling halo emanated.
"Do not fear. I will handle that matter."
"How rude… I must introduce myself. I am one of the seven archangels, a chief servant of God. Gabriel Morningstar. I have an important mission: to find you. If left here, you may be captured, imprisoned, or worse… death for first-degree murder."
"Me? But I don't remember any of that. I was the victim, not the killer."
"Yes, because your inner self buried the truth. Avoiding the fact that you are a killer. You tortured and killed Dr. Jeff. But it's fine if you follow me. I will give you two choices: either stay here and face the consequences, or follow me, and I will help you become the next God, though it means bringing the apocalypse to humanity."
A voice echoed in his head.
"You really think he is trustworthy? God is dead, and you will be his next prey."
Gabriel smiled wickedly, having seemingly heard everything. The silver earring on Gabriel glimmered, identical to Isaac's.