The next day, Hezekiah woke up in a white room. A medicinal smell tickled his nose as he contemplated where he was. His vision spun while his mouth felt sandy.
A hint of sickness sat deep within his stomach.
Cheering filled the small room, startling Hezekiah—only to realize the mounted TV was on the sports channel.
A white drape loosely covered his body, matching the cabinets to the side of the room. As his mind began to clear, the events finally clicked.
When did they put me under anesthesia? Damn. I at least thought I would be able to handle it.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he raised the covers and saw his leg wrapped in clean bandages. A tenseness enveloped the area every time he tried to move it, but it was far better than it had been before.
I’ve lost enough time already. The last thing I need to do is wait until the bill comes.
Already grabbing the bed railing to lift himself up, the rattling of a doorknob caught his ears.
Abandoning the plan, he dived back into the bed and shut his eyes.
Nope, can’t pay if I’m asleep. Come back later.
A woman with long dark hair strode into the room with a clipboard in hand. After checking to make sure the IVs were functioning properly, she lifted the drape to inspect the patient’s condition.
A musty smell tingled her senses, causing her to scrunch her nose.
“Ew. They better not make me bathe him,” she whispered—her words not slipping past Hezekiah.
A tinge of excitement coursed through him but was quickly suppressed as he remembered his current circumstances.
Recognizing the bandages didn’t need to be replaced, she lowered the drape and jotted a few notes on her clipboard.
“Shouldn’t he be awake by now? I just wanna clock out already. This is sooo dull.”
Taking a glance at Hezekiah after checking the clock, an exhausted sigh proceeded from her. Remembering she forgot to brush her teeth this morning, her lips slightly curved.
“All righty then, I’m giving you a chance.”
Though Hezekiah’s eyes remained closed, he didn’t let his confusion show. Before he could even figure out what she was talking about, he heard a deep exhale right beside him.
A trail scent of oatmeal and dried milk climbed his nostrils. Springing his eyes open due to the sudden assault on his sense of smell, an unpleasant expression plastered itself on his face.
“What are you—”
“That’s the penalty for wasting my time. Do you really think you’re the first to try this?” she cackled, hiding her smile.
Raising his eyebrows at her pleased expression, Hezekiah hardened his gaze.
“I take it this is your last day?”
“I wouldn’t mind if it was. And I see the anesthesia already had its fun with you,” she pointed at his gown.
Following her line of sight, he saw dried and chunky food stains at the collar of his clothing.
Is this vomit? I don’t even remember being awake for that.
“Anyways,” she yawned, stretching her arms high in the air. “You’re a grown man. You’re capable of cleaning a little puke, right?”
Hezekiah sighed as he observed her relaxed demeanor, wondering if this woman was really a nurse.
“Is providing a clean gown too difficult for you?” Hezekiah said sharply after noticing there were no paper towels in the room.
A repetitive beeping sound sirened from the woman’s wrist, interrupting Hezekiah’s train of thought.
“Hehe. Hate to break it to you, but I hope the smell doesn’t ruffle your feathers too much,” she declared before clutching her bag that was hidden within the cabinets. “But hey, if you’re lucky, maybe the next nurse won’t mind giving you a more thorough clean. After all, you smelled like a dumpster when you first arrived here,” she added, twinkling her fingers goodbye.
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An unsettling annoyance pricked him, but decided to leave it be.
But before grasping the handle, she turned around. “Oh goodness gracious, how could I forget? Cash or card?” she chirped.
“Shouldn’t you ask whether or not I have insurance?”
She clicked her tongue. “If you had insurance, then you wouldn’t feign being sleep. Let me guess, your wallet’s looking sad today?” she teased.
Hezekiah remained silent for a moment, not because of the nurse’s words, but because of what materialized before him.
—Provide Instructions for Queen’s Salvation Hospital
—Time Limit: 15:25
1.
2.
3.
4.
...
– Satisfaction: 0%
What the hell? Here of all places? I don’t have time for this!
“Yikes. Didn’t expect your finances to be that deep in the grave. My bad,” she uttered, taking note of Hezekiah’s silence.
“Well, if you understand, then screw off. You got your kick for the day, right? It’s not like I have to pay right away anyway,” he curtly replied.
“Aww, c’mon, no need to be like that. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s absolutely normal!”
Hezekiah eyed her with disbelief, wondering why a nurse like her hadn’t lost her job yet.
“Yeah, whatever. By the way, I noticed you’re not wearing a name badge. I doubt it’s because you’re trying to hide.”
“Hehe, so you noticed? But I already told you my name—it’s Amelia, don’t you remember?”
“Just know that I’ll remember you this time.”
Her smile widened. “Good to hear.”
With that, the door slammed, leaving Hezekiah in the sunlit room. As he lay in the warmth of the rays, he focused on the words in front of him.
Only 13 minutes left? What would happen if I let it reach zero?
Mulling over the possibilities, all he did was bite his lip as he watched the timer tick down every second.
Given he’s dealing with The Rule of Suffering, nothing happening is wishful thinking.
Suzie and Wayne died because of me. But that couldn’t be helped. Do I really have to add more to my plate?
Summoning the pen, he held it against the paper. But his fingers didn’t move—as if another part of him was taking control.
It’s the only way. Anyone would do the same. For all I know, I may die when the timer hits zero.
He sat in contemplation as the TV audio accompanied the room. Before he knew it, the timer had crossed the 7-minute threshold.
Realizing he had about half the time remaining, he began writing his first rule.
After writing a rule, a blur of thoughts fogged his mind. A slight relief brushed over him after he wrote a rule that would be hard to violate. It wasn’t erased, but the Satisfaction% barely increased to a single percent, which stiffened his expression.
Nevertheless, he wrote about 20 rules in that manner, but the percentage only reached 4%.
Now he was left with three minutes. Although the rules didn’t benefit anyone, they were filled with instructions people already fulfilled on a daily basis. Hezekiah was surprised he could write:
“6. You must blink at least one time while in the hospital.” and the notebook paper wouldn’t erase it.
But ultimately, he knew this wasn’t feasible. Especially since he had plenty of other rules that were erased, and he wasn’t sure why.
What does it matter if they’re innocent or not? Isn’t my life more important than theirs? I’m already responsible for multiple deaths as is—what difference does this make?
After tightening the grip on his pen while pondering that thought, he wrote three more rules:
---
21. Do not treat anyone that has a natural hair color
22. If a patient is over 25 years old, do not discharge them
23. No emergency operations during midnight hours
---
Seeing the Satisfaction% spike from those three rules alone, his thoughts only grew heavier.
With the percentage now standing at 60%, the time fell below the 1-minute mark.
He began writing his next rule. Each stroke of the pen felt like a burdensome stone—a sharp contrast to its feathery feeling before.
Pushing away his persistent thoughts, he wrote the final rule.
— Rules are active for 24 hours
— Rules will activate within the next five minutes after your confirmation
—A copy will automatically be printed into your hands
—Circle Confirm or Deny
Less than half a minute remained. Hezekiah stared at the Confirm option blankly.
Am I perhaps assuming too much—that I might die if I don’t write something? Do I really have to do this...? Why am I doing this...? Would she even want this...?
While he was partway through circling the Confirm choice, the timer struck zero.
But Hezekiah’s expression remained fixed—not sure whether to feel relieved or anxious. A twist of uncertainty gripped him, wondering if he had just made a mistake.---
– The Rule of Suffering is displeased.
– The Rule of Suffering will provide instructions for location.
– The Chosen will be bound by the Instructions for this location.
– The Instructions for location will be for 24 hours daily.
– Rules will be active within 1 minute.
1. If you see a nurse wearing yellow attire, do not speak to her or answer any of her questions.
2. If the hospital loses power, remain calm and do not provide a light source, and ignore all calls for help.
3. If you look into a mirror of any kind and don’t see your reflection, break the mirror and take the shards outside the building.
4. Never dial for help of any kind.
5. Only provide medication to those who’ve been at the hospital for a consecutive 30 days.
Hezekiah scanned the rules and new conditions multiple times. Slight trembles rippled through him when he realized he wouldn’t be free from this.
Not even the relief of being alive was enough when he remembered how brutal violating the rules could be.
Instead of wrestling with the idea that his indecisiveness may have given them a worse fate, he gripped the side of the bed and swung his feet over the railing, paying no attention to the slight weakness in his leg.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Is it even possible for me to escape this place this time?”
The race wasn’t against the 1-minute timer itself—but how fast the consequences would take effect when one of the rules was inevitably broken.
And Hezekiah had no intention of seeing what they would be.
