Chapter 33: Night-Shift Sick… Inpatient Ward (Please Keep Reading!)

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The Bald Doctor had assigned Ron Room 0203.

Although Ron had strongly requested a room on the eleventh floor, that was not something money alone could buy.

In the Bald Doctor’s words, only the second and third floors belonged to ordinary people.

Ron regarded his definition of “ordinary” with cautious skepticism.

Ward 203 was spotless—a luxurious private room.

Ron stood by the window, gazing at his reflection in the glass.

Outside was pitch-black. Not a single thing could be seen.

In the window, his reflected image wore a strange smile.

Smiling broadly, it raised a hand and clamped it around its own throat.

Ron felt his neck tighten, and the sensation of suffocation returned.

He did not panic. Instead, he swallowed a Sanity Supplement.

As the negative status vanished, his reflection in the window instantly returned to normal.

It seemed tonight was destined to be an unusual one.

Ron changed into a premium hospital gown, then opened his watch to see what the others had discovered.

To his surprise, aside from a few people seriously searching for information, everyone else had simply turned the group into a chatroom and was idly gossiping.

Remembering the eerie reflection from moments ago, Ron doubted that many of them would survive the night.

**Durian Coffee:** There are monsters in the inpatient building! Don’t come in! Don’t come in!

Ron’s brow furrowed at once, and he immediately asked:

**Salmon:** Which floor are you on?!

**Durian Coffee:** The ninth.

After replying, the person fell silent.

Ron watched as the survival count displayed in the margins drop from ten to nine.

Durian Coffee was dead.

Death inside a dungeon meant true death.

At that moment, everyone began to panic.

**Thirteenth Lord:** Damn it! What’s going on?! Could there be danger in the outpatient building too? What about the one who was being chased by the security guard just now?

“One Bite, Three Pigs” did not answer him.

The Narrator’s warning appeared once more.

**Anyone driven out by the security guards who fails to return to the hospital will remain stranded in the Spirit World forever.**

A Spirit World invasion was both a route for the Spirit World to enter reality and a stepping-stone for reality to enter the Spirit World.

Clearly, Ron was not the only one who had seen those words.

The people in the group began frantically tagging “One Bite, Three Pigs,” but received no response.

Their leisurely conversation once again dissolved into panicked attempts to comfort one another.

As expected, this was a strategy team made up entirely of beginners.

It seemed they would be of no help to him.

The only useful clue was probably that a murderous monster existed on the ninth floor.

Ron rose to his feet and opened the ward door the Bald Doctor had repeatedly warned him not to touch.

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The corridor was deathly quiet, illuminated by soft white lights.

Ron felt not the slightest trace of panic.

That was partly the mindset of a powerhouse bestowed upon him by the Demon King, and partly because he was certain this dungeon could not be all that difficult.

The first recommended dungeon of the new-book launch period was supposed to be the simplest of all the recommended dungeons. If he could not get through even this one, then even if he survived by luck this time, sooner or later he would die in one of the others.

Ron glanced at his watch.

It was ten o’clock at night.

Every observation window in the ward doors was pitch-black. Clearly, Ron was the only occupant on the entire floor.

**The second floor of the inpatient building. These are ordinary observation wards, rarely occupied.**

**The staircase is at the end of the corridor. You can use it to reach the other floors.**

Following the Narrator’s directions, Ron reached the end of the corridor, only to find that the stairwell door was locked.

**The locked door can be broken through by force.**

**The noise will attract malicious attention.**

Ron frowned and did not follow the Narrator’s advice to smash the door.

These pieces of information had been uncovered by predecessors who had come to this dungeon before him, at the cost of their lives.

But since none of them had managed to clear the dungeon, it meant that not every hint could be trusted.

Ron walked a few steps farther and found an elevator.

**The elevator can only be used by staff.**

**It can reach any floor.**

**You can obtain an elevator card by attracting an attack from a staff member—but doing so will cause everyone to hunt you down.**

**Warning! This is certain death.**

Those predecessors had certainly been courageous to uncover information like this.

Fortunately, Ron had no need to take such a risk. He simply pulled out the **Demon All-Purpose Card**.

With a soft beep, the elevator doors slowly opened.

**…**

Ron ignored the Narrator’s speechless colon and studied the elevator’s interior.

This was a hospital for containing grotesque monsters, and battles with them could break out at any moment. Familiarizing himself with the surroundings was essential.

The elevator stopped at sixteen floors, but the buttons for the thirteenth and fifteenth floors had been deliberately removed.

Fortunately, the floor containing Room 1136—the objective of his dungeon run—could still be reached directly.

Ron did not hurry to go to the eleventh floor.

His gaze was fixed on his shadow.

The shadow seemed to have a mind of its own, curiously fumbling around in every direction.

Perhaps noticing Ron’s stare, it raised a hand and clamped it around its own throat again.

That familiar suffocating sensation returned.

This time, Ron did not rush to take his medicine. Instead, he crouched down and watched the shadow’s movements with interest.

The shadow was clearly intimidated by Ron’s calm demeanor. In a panic, it searched frantically for something.

Ron guessed that it was looking for the shadow of a weapon.

Unfortunately, they were in an elevator.

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Beneath the elevator’s ceiling light, there was only one shadow—his own.

**The Shadow-Playing Boy, an occupant of the fifteenth floor. Extremely mischievous.**

**He likes the little biscuits sold at the shop on the twelfth floor.**

**The occupant of Room 1136 particularly dislikes him.**

**Give him some biscuits, and he may help you with something.**

This was probably the route the predecessors had pieced together.

No wonder the editorial department had placed this dungeon among the first-round recommendations.

A dungeon with such a clearly established strategy route seemed as though it should pose little difficulty.

But why had no one ever cleared it?

With a trace of curiosity, Ron pressed the button for the twelfth floor.

Seeing that Ron had no intention of taking medicine to drive him away, the Shadow Boy quieted down somewhat.

Ding!

As the elevator doors opened, the corridor of the eleventh floor appeared before Ron.

The corridor here was identical to the one on the second floor, but nearly every ward was lit.

Ron stepped inside.

“I’m going to buy you some little biscuits,” Ron muttered to himself. “Can you protect me?”

The Shadow Boy understood what Ron meant and bounced happily.

When he jumped, Ron’s body involuntarily jumped as well.

Damn, was this hard crowd control?

Ron fought down the urge to take his medicine and walked toward the shop in the direction indicated by the Narrator.

The moment he passed one of the wards, an extremely hostile voice came from inside.

“Fuck! Why can’t I move again?! Did that little brat get out again?!”

Bang!

With a tremendous crash, a figure smashed through the ward door and was hurled into the corridor.

Under the control of his own shadow, he kept slamming into the wall.

It was a terrifying monster covered from head to toe in fleshy tumors.

With every impact, the tumors on its body could be seen bursting apart.

Under the dim corridor lights, the monster’s shadow tore open its chest.

As black liquid gushed forth, the tumor-covered monster followed suit and tore open its own chest.

It collapsed limply, plainly reduced to a corpse.

The Shadow Boy seemed entirely unconcerned by the horrifying scene that had just unfolded. Controlling Ron’s shadow, he continued toward the shop.

“You promised to buy me some little biscuits.”

“Come on, hurry up.”

Ron’s mouth moved against his will, murmuring the words aloud.