The Regressor Is Brave? (4)
The daily routine at the psychiatric hospital is monotonous.
When they bring food, you eat. When they tell you to exercise, you exercise. The rest of the time is yours to do with as you please. As long as you don't leave the hospital grounds, you're free to do whatever you want.
Of course, even with that freedom, I had no particular desire to leave my room. All the other patients were elderly, and they seemed to hate moving around anyway, so they just sprawled on their beds and lazed about.
"Kwahahaha!"
"Grandpa, you're too loud."
"Ah, sorry! But if it's funny, what can I do!"
The old man burst into loud laughter while watching TV. Honestly, it wasn't even that funny, but he was practically exploding with mirth. I guess he's just the type who laughs hard.
"Kkalkkalkkal!"
"Kwahahaha!"
"Oohehehehe!"
Still, seeing them laugh so brightly is better than a gloomy atmosphere. Leaving the spray-spouting elders behind, I looked down at the hospital courtyard through the window.
"Hahahahahah!"
"Euhahahahahah!"
"Poohaha, kek, kek... keukheuk... ooweeeek..."
I saw other patients laughing just as brightly. Our hospital's atmosphere really is top-notch. It's nice to see everyone trying to enjoy themselves even though they came here as inpatients for treatment.
"Jun-ho! Please go to Exam Room 1!"
"Okay!"
I like this hospital. The patients are cheerful, the nurses are kind, and the doctor is thoughtful. No, wait... but... I... I mean... I want to stay here forever if I can.
My head throbbed for a moment, but lying around too much tends to give you a headache anyway. I shrugged it off and headed to Exam Room 1.
"So, the moment I entered Floor 17..."
"Hoh..."
There, as usual, I spun my fabricated story about the 'Tower,' and the doctor nodded, jotting down what my tale implied.
A while later...
"Good. Very good."
Clap! The doctor shut the folder with a snap, then smiled gently and nodded.
"You're showing improvement. A sickness of the mind tends to improve just by talking about it honestly. Thanks to your active cooperation with the treatment, Jun-ho, you should be able to recover soon."
"Really?"
"Yes. At the earliest, five years... at the longest, within five thousand years. I promise you'll be discharged."
"..."
"What's the matter?"
"Haha... I guess I've grown attached to the hospital. Now that I have to leave, I just feel a bit... off."
"..."
The doctor said nothing and simply gave a smile brimming with trust and faith.
"Nurse Kim! Bring that in!"
He abruptly called outside, and soon a nurse entered the exam room, flicking a syringe with her finger.
"Uh..."
"Time for your injection. I almost forgot."
"...An injection?"
"Yes, an injection. You know, the one with a sedative. Helps you sleep."
"...Do I really have to?"
"Oh, it's not like you've only had them for a day or two. Why are you like this today?"
The nurse leisurely rubbed my arm with an alcohol swab. But my eyes were fixed on that sharp needle. Why am I so scared? I always get these.
"It's just something that calms your mind~ Don't worry~"
In my memory, I've definitely been stuck with that needle more than a few times. Run. But why... why am I so terrified?
"Uh, I have a condition where I can't let my skin get injured..."
"What are you talking about? A little 'Ouch' and it's over, ouch~"
The syringe draws closer. Uhh. This is bad. If that goes in, if my skin gets pierced...
—Fwip.
"Then I regress, huh?"
I murmured.
And just like that, I was back in that first hospital room.
**
The hospital where all the grandmas and grandpas laughed like they had all gone mad. The hospital with the unusually high walls. If I hadn't had such an aversion to getting shots, I'd still be inside.
I slapped my cheeks to pull myself together—if I hit hard enough for a smack, I might regress again—and fell deep into thought.
"This is strange."
I'd already regressed twice. Both times in ways I couldn't understand or resist.
Against the Dancing Ghost, I had no thought of resisting at all, and in that bed just now, I fell asleep in an instant. What would have happened if I'd gotten that injection? I don't know for sure, but it probably wouldn't have been a pleasant development.
"I'm fine with it happening to me."
From my perspective, sure, it's a bit unfair, but I can accept it. Considering how absurd the regressions were, my sanity is (still) intact. I just get up and challenge it again. I just have to avoid repeating the same mistake. If I keep rolling with the punches, I'll clear it someday.
But what about other people? Other players? How are they supposed to clear a floor like this? If they make a mistake, they die? Just walking down the hallway gets you caught by the Dancing Ghost and you die, lying in bed and falling asleep traps you in some hospital somewhere, and one wrong touch gets you killed in this space—how on earth are you supposed to escape?
The difficulty is absurd. No, it's beyond absurd, it's surreal. It's like being told to clear the 'stepping stones' game from Squid Game all by yourself. I have to make the exact right judgment in every single situation to clear it? That's bullshit.
Frustration boiled over, and I sprang to my feet, pacing in circles around the room and sighing.
"There's... something I'm missing..."
There's no way this difficulty is normal. I'm mistaken about something. That much is certain. The question is, what exactly am I mistaken about...
Click.
An ominous sound I shouldn't be hearing came from somewhere. Below me.
"...Huh?"
A handcuff was already fastened around my ankle. I mean, I'd been pacing the room absentmindedly, and there was a handcuff on the bed opposite mine, but... does it always clasp on automatically like this?
"Uh, uhhh?!"
Immediately after, cuffs clamped around my arms and remaining leg. At the same time, an invisible force spread my limbs wide apart, pinning me spread-eagled onto the bed.
"No, no, no..."
My mana wouldn't move. My traits and Status Window were dead, too. There was nothing I could do. All I could manage was to twist my body enough to make the bed rattle a little.
—Slam!
The door burst open, and a doctor in a blood-soaked gown strode in. Could I even call that thing a doctor? A monster with its gums fully exposed because its lips had no skin, and mirrors embedded where its eyes should be, walked briskly toward me holding a large metal rod.
"Starting the surgery. Frontal lobotomy."
"Uwaaaaahk!"
This is it. This is truly the end. Since my mouth could still move, I desperately bit down on the inside of my cheek.
"...Ah."
Instead of a regression message, I tasted blood. The taste of blood filled my mouth.
This was the same as back on Floor 22...
—Snatch!
The monster fixed my head in place with its huge hand. I twisted as hard as I could, but that monstrous grip was impossible to resist.
Tilting its head at a 45-degree angle, the creature shoved the massive metal rod up my nostril and started fiddling with my brain, pokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepoke... aht eut eck euk ah eut ek ack eut ack et euk eu ok uk eu...
...
...
**
"Fuck!"
The instant I regained my senses, I pinched my nose shut with my thumb and forefinger. Ugh, fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell. I felt incredibly disgusted. Pain aside, the sensation of bright flashes bursting across my vision and my thoughts tangling into chaos was deeply repulsive in itself.
But at the same time, my cold rationality assessed my body's state.
My body was fine. My mana was fine. My mind... well, I hadn't completely lost it.
I drew my sword and cut the tip of my finger. Blood flowed. So naturally.
"...This isn't reality?"
Getting injured didn't trigger a regression. That meant this place wasn't real.
Also, my body was too perfectly fine. More precisely, I didn't feel the dizziness I always get right after regressing. No matter how used to it I've become, that distinctive sensation is unmistakable. I'd glossed over it before because I never stopped to think about it, but now that I'm aware, the difference is glaring.
"...I've never regressed?"
If I hadn't actually regressed up until now... then the reason I keep returning to this hospital room isn't regression, but the Tower's gimmick? What if Floor 24 is designed so that whenever you experience 'something resembling death,' you simply return to the starting hospital room?
What if other players are also repeating Floor 24 over and over, just like me, to clear it? What if the floor's very design expects you to repeat it, gathering information each time in order to progress? What if the difficulty isn't ridiculously unreasonable after all?
Then...
"...There's no advantage to regression here, is there?"
I... have to clear Floor 24 through pure, straightforward means.