Psychiatric hospital

At dusk, Rihito stood before the gates of the psychiatric hospital.

The iron gates were mottled with rust, their hinges long since seized up. One half lay crooked in the weeds.

"So this is the assessment site? What an ominous place."

Sensing the resentment inside the psychiatric hospital, so thick it seemed almost tangible, Rihito tensed slightly.

He glanced down at the photograph in his briefing materials.

It had been taken in 1967, the forty-second year of the Showa era. The scene was almost identical to the one before him, save for forty more years of neglect.

Beneath the photograph was a line of small print:

"In 1964, a reporter went undercover at the hospital and was confined as a psychiatric patient for eight months. His subsequent report exposed the tip of the iceberg. At least a dozen sane people had been misdiagnosed, gradually driven mad by electric shocks and solitary confinement. In the end, nothing came of it."

Rihito put the materials away.

That immense resentment had probably been left behind by those misdiagnosed patients.

If so, the cursed spirit hiding here was most likely connected to them as well.

Without further hesitation, he headed inside.

Dusk had fallen, and the fading light made the already dilapidated building even more sinister.

Even after all these years, a faint smell of disinfectant still lingered.

It seemed to have seeped into the walls, mingling with the smell of moldy, rotting wood and leaving a cloying discomfort in his nose.

He glanced at the floor plan on the lobby wall, which had yet to peel away completely.

The lobby occupied the first floor. The patient wards began on the second.

Rihito went up to the second floor.

A decrepit corridor came into view, with scraps of badly rotted fabric scattered across the floor.

Judging by their shapes, they had once been patient gowns, white coats, and the like.

Creak-

Rihito glanced at Ward 1, the closest room, and reached out to push open its door.

The furnishings were simple: a hospital bed, a table, and a chair.

The moment he stepped inside, the chair caught his eye.

It was an iron chair with an armrest on either side. Years of corrosion had covered it in rust.

Strangely, strips of cloth still clung to both armrests, while wires with their insulation peeling off dangled beneath them.

Almost instantly, Rihito pictured the scene-the reporter strapped to this chair, howling as electric shocks coursed through him.

He gave a cold snort and left the ward.

He wanted to see whether every room was like this.

If they were, the cursed spirit in this psychiatric hospital might be even stronger than he had imagined.

Bang!

Rihito shoved hard, and the door to Ward 2 toppled flat onto the floor.

Dust churned and spread through the dim light like a dense fog suddenly bursting open.

Rihito took half a step back. Only once the dust had settled a little did he step over the fallen door.

Ward 2 was laid out almost exactly like Ward 1.

After a quick inspection, Rihito immediately turned and headed toward Ward 3.

Ward 4, Ward 5, Ward 6...

It was not until the eleventh room that Rihito found something different.

This ward still contained the same three furnishings: a bed, a table, and an iron chair.

But something had been carved into a metal leg on the side of the bed.

Rihito quickly crouched down.

There were several lines of tiny writing, easily overlooked without a close inspection.

"Day sixteen. There's nothing wrong with me. Why are they locking me up here, even yelling at me and telling me to behave? Hmph! Once I get out, I'll expose you and ruin every last one of you!"

"Day twenty-one. They told me to take medicine. When I refused, they beat me. I'm not sick. I'm really not sick!"

"Day thirty-four. I found a chance to escape. I even found the police, but none of them believed me. They sent me back. Damn it, damn it, damn it!!!"

"Day forty-seven. I don't have much time left. I have to... have to find a way to get word out. This isn't a hospital at all. This is... hell!!"

The bed leg offered very little space. Those four lines filled it completely, and the account broke off abruptly for lack of room.

"Hell..."

Rihito quietly spoke the word aloud.

The increasingly distorted handwriting on the bed leg revealed the torment its writer had endured during that time.

He had managed to escape, only to be taken for a psychiatric patient and dragged back.

Merely imagining that terror was enough to drive someone to despair, let alone experiencing it.

"The person confined in this ward was probably that reporter. But if he identified himself after escaping, they shouldn't have brought him back, right? Was there more to it?"

Rihito shook his head and stopped dwelling on the question.

He intended to check the other wards for more clues about the cursed spirit.

Time slipped by unnoticed.

Only when Rihito stood up did he realize it was almost completely dark outside.

The last trace of light had vanished from between the broken window frames, and the entire building sank into an impenetrable darkness.

Continuing to search for clues in the dark had now become extremely difficult.

"Phew-this is a good chance to try my new skill."

Rihito exhaled softly and turned his awareness inward.

Azure cursed energy flowed slowly through the depths of his body like liquid.

With precise control, he guided the cursed energy upward and into his eyes.

This was a cursed energy manipulation technique he had learned at Jujutsu High a few days earlier, and this was his first time using it in the field.

The azure cursed energy sank into his eyes.

At first, he felt a slight chill, as though mint water were washing over the surface of his eyes.

Then it was as if someone had flipped an invisible switch in the world.

In an instant, the dim ward brightened.

The blurry surroundings became perfectly clear. Even the tiny writing on the bed leg, which he had needed to crouch down to read earlier, was now plainly visible while he stood.

"It takes a little finesse, but it uses hardly any cursed energy. You could practically call it a god-tier skill."

Rihito was very pleased with this new ability. His resolve only grew stronger: he had to pass the assessment and join Jujutsu High. Only then could he become stronger.

The ward was now clearly visible, and the once-dark corridor no longer posed an obstacle.

Rihito turned, intending to continue his search in the next room.

Yet as he stepped out of Ward 11, a strange sense of déjà

vu suddenly washed over him.

He stopped and looked around.

The decrepit corridor, the rotten wooden doors, even the way the scraps of fabric lay beneath his feet-all looked just as they had when he first arrived.

Yet his instincts detected a subtle sense of displacement.

"No, the location has changed!"

Rihito's pupils contracted as he finally realized what was causing that sense of displacement.

The spot where he stood was not where he had entered Ward 11 earlier.

Realizing this, Rihito spun around and looked up at the number above the ward door.

Ward 23!