Day 1 - 01:15 PM

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across my hospital room as I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, my mind still churning over Mr. Chen's cryptic warnings from that morning. The old man's words echoed in his thoughts - "things get complicated after 10 PM", "don't get greedy", "don't cause trouble". Each phrase raised more questions than answers, and the promise that he'd come to my room later only added to the growing sense of unease.

What the hell is going on in this place? I wondered, running my good hand through his black hair in frustration. The hospital seemed perfect on the surface - too perfect, maybe - but there were cracks in that facade if you knew where to look. Those golden tickets, the all-female staff, the strange sounds at night…

"Forget it." I sighed heavily, feeling like I'd hit another dead end in trying to piece together this puzzle.

A sharp knock-knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, followed by the sound of it opening. "Mr. Donovan?" A calm, professional voice called out. "I'm here for your afternoon examination."

Dr. Sayoko Jones stepped into the room, her presence immediately commanding attention. She was a striking woman in her early thirties, a Japanese-American mix that gave her features an exotic beauty - almond-shaped dark brown eyes, smooth pale skin with a slight golden undertone, and long black hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She stood at about 165 cm tall, her white doctor's coat crisp and pristine over her blue scrubs. Her figure was athletic yet feminine, and she moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Jones," I greet her, watching as she approached with a tablet in one hand and a small medical kit in the other.

"Afternoon," she replied with a polite nod, setting her things down on the nearby table. Her voice carried a slight accent - that particular blend of American English with just a hint of Japanese inflection that suggested she'd grown up bilingual. "How are you feeling today? Any pain or discomfort?"

"Mostly okay," I answered honestly. "The arm's been bothering me a bit, but nothing unbearable."

Dr. Jones nodded, her expression remaining professionally neutral as she pulled up a chair and sat down in front of me. "Let's take a look at that cast, shall we?" She reached out with gentle hands, carefully examining the plaster that encased my left arm from just below my shoulder down to wrist. Her fingers probed along the edges, checking for any signs of swelling or improper healing.

"How's it, doctor?" I asked, watching her work.

She didn't answer immediately, too focused on her examination. After a moment, she looked up at me with those sharp, analytical eyes. "I need you to try moving your fingers for me," she instructed calmly. "Start with your thumb - just a small movement is fine."

I took a breath and concentrated on my left hand, willing my thumb to move. As soon as I tried to raise it even slightly, a sharp pain shot through my arm like lightning - intense and immediate.

"Ouch, ouch…" I winced, my face contorting in discomfort as the pain radiated from my forearm up through his shoulder.

Dr. Jones' expression remained calm but observant, noting every micro-reaction on Brian's face. "Okay, stop," she said gently, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Don't push it." She made a few notes on her tablet with quick, efficient taps before looking back at me with that same professional demeanor.

"The fracture is healing, but it's going to take time," she explained, her tone matter-of-fact but not unkind. "Based on what I'm seeing today - the pain response, the limited mobility - I'd say you're looking at at least three weeks here in the hospital." She paused, tilting her head slightly as she considered. "Maybe more, depending on how well your body responds to treatment."

My heart sank a little at that news. Three weeks minimum? That was longer than I'd hoped for.

Dr. Jones must have noticed my expression because she gave me a small, reassuring smile - the first real warmth she'd shown since entering the room. "I know it's not ideal," she said softly, "but rushing recovery with bone fractures can cause permanent damage. We want to make sure you heal properly, not quickly."

She stood up from her chair and picked up her tablet again, tapping a few more notes into it. "We'll continue monitoring your progress daily. Physical therapy will start once we see more improvement in mobility." Her eyes met me again - serious but not cold. "In the meantime, try to rest as much as possible and use the call button if you experience any unusual pain or symptoms."

As she prepared to leave, I couldn't help but notice something tucked into the pocket of her white coat - just a small corner of gold laminated paper peeking out from between folds of fabric.

Another ticket.

Dr. Jones turned back toward my direction before reaching the door, her hand resting on the button to open. "Oh," she added almost as an afterthought, "Since you will be here for next few weeks, try to react to other patients." Her tone was casual - too casual - as if this was just routine information. "If you need anything after hours, don't hesitate to call for the nurses on duty."

Something about the way she said it made my skin prickle with unease.

"Understood," I replied slowly.

Dr. Jones gave me one last polite nod before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind her with a soft click.

I sit there on the edge of my bed, staring at the closed door as my mind raced.

Three weeks... maybe more...

That meant I'd be here for many nights. Many nights where those strange moans echoed through the halls. Many nights where whatever Mr. Chen had warned me about would happen again and again.

The afternoon sun continued to stream through my window, bathing everything in warm golden light - so peaceful, so normal.

But as I glanced at the clock on the wall showing 1:40 PM, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping in.

Because nightfall was only hours away.