The door creaked open—clack!—and a cheerful voice followed.
"Tada…!"
Johan turned his head from the bed, blinking at the familiar figure. "Huh? Mom? Didn't you already come to see me some hours ago?"
His mother smiled warmly as she stepped into the room, carrying a small tiffin box in her hands. "What do you mean? I'm going to stay with you here."
Johan let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Come on, Mom. I'm not a kid anymore. You don't need to stay here. Just go home and take some rest. And what about the company? Who's going to look after it if you sit here the whole time?"
She waved her hand dismissively as if the business was the least of her worries. "It's not a big deal. Now eat the food fast before it gets cold." She set the tiffin box on the small bedside table and began unpacking the warm dishes one by one, filling the room with the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals.
"But you really don't need to stay here. I'm fine," Johan said softly, though his words carried a faint smile.
"Oh my, is my son shy in front of his own mother now?" she teased, her lips curling mischievously.
"Mom!" Johan's cheeks flushed as he protested.
"Okay, okay," she chuckled, raising her hands in mock surrender. "I'll go after you finish your food."
With that, she slid a plate toward him and sat down at his side. The two of them began eating together, the simple clatter of spoons—clink, clink—filling the quiet hospital room. For the first time in a long while, Johan felt a rare moment of peace.
After sometime making sure Johan was full, his mother kissed his forehead and finally left for home.
The hospital breathed in slow, steady rhythms—beep… beep…—machines keeping time with sleeping bodies. Midnight sat heavy on the windows, a silver smear of streetlight that barely reached the corridor. Nurses moved in hushed, practiced steps; the ward was a map of dim shapes and quiet suffering.
Then, without warning, the lights died.
Click.
Whoooom— The fluorescent hum cut off, plunging the room into a soft, swallowing dark. Monitors flared briefly, then settled into a ghostly glow. Shadows pooled in corners like spilled ink.
One nurse looked up at the dark ceiling and frowned. "Huh? What happened?"
"Is the generator not working?"
A frustrated sigh came from down the hall. "Ahhhh, it had to be happen at this hour."
For a handful of breaths the ward adjusted — flashlights clicked on, whispers rose and fell — until new sounds braided through the nervous murmurs: footsteps, low and purposeful, padding from the service corridor. Not the quick, calm steps of staff, but slow, careful advancement as if whoever walked wanted to be heard only when they chose.
From the black beyond the nurse station, voices drifted, rough and unfamiliar. "Hey there are some nurses in the front. What should we do?"
The answer was a single, cold sentence from a man whose tone had no room for mercy. "Just kill them."
The phrase hit the nurses like a blow. Fear snapped across their faces; hands flew to phones that showed nothing but dead screens. They couldn't make out the intruders' faces—only outlines moving between beds, a darker darkness among the dark.
One of the younger nurses squeezed her flashlight so tight her knuckles went white and stammered, "W-Who?"
The silence in Johan's room was heavy, broken only by the faint ticking of the wall clock. Suddenly—shhhk!—his eyes snapped open. A chill ran down his spine.
"What is happening? I just felt… something dangerous."
[Ding!]
[It should be your sense of danger.]
[Your sense of danger has been increased by a lot after your training as a reward.]
Johan frowned, pushing himself up from the bed. "Sense of danger? What kind of danger could happen in a hospital?"
His eyes scanned the room—and then he noticed it. The lights were out. The hallway beyond his door was swallowed in pitch-black.
"Huh? Did the electricity go out?"
[Ding!]
[You can say that.]
[But that's not the main problem.]
The air rippled, and glowing text formed in front of him.
[Emergency Quest.]
[Catch the intruders who are here to kill someone.]
[You can also kill them if you want.]
[Quest failure: Death.]
"…Huh?" Johan's jaw dropped. His expression twisted. "What the hell?! Why is the quest failure penalty always death?!" He raked a hand through his hair. "And you're telling me to handle some gangsters alone? I've never even fought anyone before! How can you dump a dangerous quest like this on me in the beginning?!"
[Ding!]
[Time limit has been set to the quest as a punishment for arguing.]
[Time limit: 30 minutes.]
"Huuuuuh?!" Johan's face darkened. "I can't even argue with you now?"
Another notification blinked.
[Don't worry.]
[You're stronger now.]
[You can handle the quest.]
[Or…]
[Maybe not.]
Johan's lips twitched. His face contorted into an awkward grimace. "…Are you trying to give me hope or just destroy my confidence?"
He let out a long breath, then his expression hardened. "Fine. Anyway—where are the intruders now?"
[Near the nurse station.]
Johan's fists clenched. "I see."
Without hesitation, he slid off the bed, his bare feet pressing against the cold hospital floor. The shadows beyond the door seemed to whisper with danger. Straightening his back, Johan stepped out of the room—toward the intruders.