They Found You

"Find you? Are you sick?" The crooked, slanted writing on the Medical Record made Scissors feel deeply uncomfortable. He stopped on the first floor of the hospital, standing in the middle of the corridor.

The half-open door of the ward swung without a breeze, emitting a creaking sound. Dust fell continuously from the dilapidated ceiling, and from time to time, the sound of paper scraping against the floor drifted into his ears.

Standing alone in such a scene after midnight, it would be a lie to say he wasn't afraid.

"Scissors" gripped the Scissors in his hand, trying his best to put on a calm facade: "When was this paper stuck to my back?"

Looking back, Scissors gazed at the wards he had just passed: "The guy who stuck the paper on me must be in one of the rooms I just walked by."

He was terrified, but not to the point of losing his mind. He constantly reminded himself that he was currently playing the role of a cold-blooded, psychopathic killer and had to remain composed at all times.

"The weaker you act, the more the Ghost will bully you. You cannot be afraid, or at least, you cannot show it."

Folding the Medical Record and stuffing it into his pocket, Scissors carefully pushed open the half-open ward door nearby.

The bedsheets were torn to shreds and the hospital bed was overturned, as if some ferocious Monster had once been restrained there.

"Is this a hospital or the high-security ward of a Mental Hospital?" Scissors didn't rashly enter the room, merely watching from the outside.

The bed was small; only the space under the bed or the wardrobe could barely hide a person.

"The guy playing tricks on me isn't here." The space under the bed was visible at