Before Fatty could call for help, someone pulled him into a nearby room. Only then did he realize the second fifteen-minute interval was almost over.
The man, who looked to be nearly thirty, frowned as he closed the door and pulled them both into a corner. "What happened to him?"
Fatty glanced at the man in the military uniform. His nickname was "Han Shan".
"He was stabbed by a ghost," Fatty said, sitting on the floor and clutching his calf. "The bleeding won't stop."
The man's frown deepened.
Fatty could tell the two didn't know each other, but the atmosphere wasn't particularly awkward.
Han Shan rubbed his knuckles. "We brought a military doctor with us, but we haven't met up with him yet."
He glanced at Night of Roses, who was lying on the ground. "Judging by his blood loss, he can't last much longer. Any further delay, and his life will be in danger."
