It should have been a normal shift.
Just another boring night shift with nothing of note, the kind of shift that made a man question his career choices, the kind of silence that made you feel like time itself had stopped.
The halls of Ravencreek National Hospital were quiet, so quiet in fact that it almost felt unnatural. The hospital was located in the middle of a small rural town, a place where almost nothing important ever happened. No major accidents. No emergencies. No drama. Only the usual checkups, prescriptions, and the occasional fever or broken bone.
At least, that was how it should have been.
"I'm clocking out for the night."
The voice belonged to Gerald, a coworker of Alex's in the pharmaceutical department. Like Alex, Gerald's job was simple: provide medicine, check prescriptions, and hand over pills to the patients who needed them.
"Sure, be safe."
Alex replied, his voice heavy with boredom as he rested his head on his arms. His eyes drooped, his body sagged. The endless monotony of night shifts had long since killed his enthusiasm.
The same boring nights, repeated over and over, countless times without end, would do that to someone.
"When's your next break?" Gerald asked, pausing by the door, noticing Alex's sluggish tone.
"Tomorrow, why?"
"Then how about we meet later and get blackout drunk? Breaks the stale routine, don't you think?"
Alex gave a mirthless laugh at the suggestion, the kind of laugh that held no real joy.
"Terribly irresponsible, don't you think? But sure… I could kill for some fun."
Gerald chuckled, satisfied with the response, before finally leaving the room.
Alex slumped back into his chair, his head dropping onto the desk again. The silence returned, heavier than before. It was so quiet this night, even more silent than usual.
The air conditioning hummed. The faint ticking of the clock echoed. That was it.
So he closed his eyes, deciding that if anyone needed him, they would just wake him up.
BANG.
The sudden sound shattered the silence.
Not even an hour had passed before the door burst open, jolting Alex awake.
He jumped from his chair, heart racing, eyes wide. The pen in his chest pocket slipped out and clattered loudly to the floor.
"Huh!? What?" Alex yelled in confusion, still groggy.
"Oh, thank god I decided to check here!" Chris's voice rang out, panicked and desperate. "There's been a chemical spill, everyone is advised to leave—now!"
"Is everyone out already?" Alex asked quickly, already reaching for his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
"Yeah, everyone's fine," Chris replied, but his tone was unconvincing.
Alex knew that tone. He had known Chris for years. He could hear the lie behind the words.
"Where?" Alex demanded.
Chris froze, his face betraying hesitation. His eyes flickered nervously, caught off guard. He didn't want Alex to know.
"Are you crazy!? We're out of time. One huff of that stuff and you're dead in three minutes!" Chris shouted, his voice shaking.
He grabbed Alex by the wrist, dragging him toward the exit. The hospital halls echoed with their rushed footsteps.
But Alex resisted, yanking his arm back and adjusting his cuffs with a calmness that clashed with the rising panic.
"Tell me. Now."
Chris bit down on his lip so hard that he tasted blood.
He had known Alex since medical school. They had graduated together, suffered together, and grown together. They weren't just coworkers—they were brothers in all but blood.
If he told Alex where the patient was, Alex would go. Alex would die.
But Chris also knew that Alex's stubbornness was absolute. Wasting time would only doom them both.
"In the… operating room," Chris finally muttered through clenched teeth.
And without even a moment's hesitation, Alex bolted. He didn't think. He didn't pause. He just ran.
Chris stood there, staring at his friend's back as it grew smaller and smaller in the dim hospital light. His lip bled freely now, crimson dripping onto his chin.
"Fucking hell…" Chris cursed before forcing himself to turn and head for the exit.
Alex's footsteps thundered through the empty halls. Every step echoed in his ears like a war drum.
The tiles were slick, freshly cleaned, slippery enough that his shoes nearly lost traction.
'Why the hell did they mop tonight of all nights!?' he cursed internally as he fought to keep his balance.
He rammed through door after door, shoulder slamming into the frames like a sledgehammer, until finally he reached the operating room.
BANG.
The moment he approached, the smell hit him. Acrid. Toxic. Wrong.
The chemicals were seeping through the vents, invisible death crawling into every corner of the room.
It had been faint in the halls. Here, it was suffocating.
Years of pharmacology training were activated in his mind, almost instinctively. His brain calculated and measured without him needing to think about it.
Chris was right. Three minutes flat. That was all he had.
'Toxic load in the air… three minutes max before CNS collapse.'
Through the glass overlooking the operating room, he spotted the patient.
Alive. Barely, but alive.
The oxygen mask over the patient's mouth had bought him time, keeping the toxins out. But the supply wouldn't last. And this hospital? Out in the middle of nowhere? Backup wouldn't arrive for hours.
By then, the patient would suffocate.
"Thank god…" Alex whispered, forcing himself forward.
The air shimmered faintly inside the operating room, a visible haze spreading across the space. The chemicals grew thicker with every breath.
His timer dropped lower and lower.
'Shit!'
He didn't have time for caution. No calculations, no second thoughts.
The patient was anesthetized. The surgery had been stopped midway. That was a miracle in itself—it meant the patient could be moved.
'Fuck it!'
Adrenaline surged through Alex's veins. He lunged forward, grabbing the oxygen tank with one hand and slinging the unconscious patient onto his shoulder with the other.
"Come on!"
He shouted, more at himself than anyone else.
He sprinted, the weight of the patient slowing him down, but adrenaline pushing him forward like a sprinter chasing gold.
His heart pounded. His muscles screamed.
'Ten seconds…'
His teeth clenched, his lungs burning. He knew. He knew even if he made it outside, it was already too late for him.
But if the patient lived, then it was worth it.
That was why he had chosen this path, wasn't it?
No. He admitted the truth in the silence of his mind. He had chosen this path for money. Because it was safe. Because it gave him a steady future.
And yet…
Every time he watched doctors get applause, get respect, get admiration—he felt envy.
He had been invisible. A faceless man behind the counter.
So why now? Why was he risking everything? Why wasn't he running away, like always?
Maybe the boredom had eaten him alive. Maybe the emptiness had finally broken him.
Simply put—yes. That was it.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
His footsteps echoed louder than his own heartbeat. His body screamed warnings. His mind screamed back at it to shut up.
And then—light.
Not a metaphorical one. Not some heavenly glow.
But a literal light.
Flashing ambulance headlights. Blazing police floodlights. Red, blue, and white shining through the hospital's glass doors.
The sound of shouting voices.
'Yes!'
Alex screamed in his heart as his body finally began to shut down.
He burst through the exit.
And collapsed.
The adrenaline burned out instantly. His legs gave out. His body crashed.
"You bastard!" Chris's voice roared as he caught him, wearing a mask.
Chris pulled Alex and the patient both, lowering them carefully.
But as he looked into Alex's eyes, Chris knew. He was already gone.
"I'll take care of him…" Chris whispered, pulling the patient from his friend's shoulders.
Alex managed a faint smile, his lips moving one last time. "Appreciate it…"
And then he let go.
His body hit the ground with a dull thud.
People stared. Ambulance workers, police officers, fellow staff—they all looked at him.
For once in his life, he had their attention.
Awe. Pity. Reverence.
Was it worth it? He didn't know.
But at least, for once in his purposeless life, he had done something.
And that… was enough.
His vision blurred. The sting of chemicals faded into something colder, stranger—the night sky above, where the stars twisted unnaturally. A serpent coiled around a staff stared back at him.
[Condition Fulfilled]
[Ophiuchus looks at you with pity]
[Granted: Eye of Ophiuchus]