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墨書 Inktalez
At eleven o'clock at night, behind the new children's hospital, I hid in the bushes across the street, watching Zhou Jing follow a nurse into the building. It was her first night shift, and according to plan, she would infiltrate the hospital as a new caregiver.
"Is everything okay?" Jiang Zhendong's voice crackled in my earpiece.
"All normal," I whispered back. "She’s gone inside."
"Stay safe and keep in touch."
The hospital building was shrouded in darkness, with only the third floor and basement illuminated. The shift change list had shown that there was only one patient in the inpatient department tonight, yet nearly twenty cars were parked in the underground lot.
Suddenly, Zhou Jing's voice came through my earpiece: "There's a situation."
I immediately turned up the volume. Through the tiny camera pinned to her collar, I saw two men in white coats pushing a gurney. A little girl lay on it, seemingly unconscious.
"Going to basement level three," one of them said, his voice thick with a Japanese accent.
Basement level three? I flipped through the hospital's floor plan; there was no indication of such a level.
The camera shook as Zhou Jing followed them into the elevator. Inside, there was a special keypad. The Japanese man pulled out an access card and swiped it before pressing the button for basement level three.
"This seems to be—" Zhou Jing's voice suddenly cut off.
"What happened?" I asked anxiously.
"Nothing," she quickly replied. "They’re looking at me."
The elevator descended for an unusually long time. Finally, the doors opened. A bright corridor appeared on screen, lined with glass rooms on either side. Through the glass, I could see many children lying inside, each with an IV drip attached to their arms.
"New arrival?" a voice suddenly rang out.
The camera turned toward the source of the voice. A middle-aged man in a white coat stood there, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Although he smiled, his condescending demeanor sent chills down my spine.
"Yes, Director Yamada," the nurse beside him replied.
Koji Yamada—the Japanese man connected to the Yamamoto Family!
"Good," he said in fluent Chinese. "You’re in charge of Ward Number. Remember, these are special patients who require special care."
As he spoke, he cast a meaningful glance at Zhou Jing.
The camera continued to move. In Ward Number lay three children who appeared to be in deep sleep. The IV bags hanging on the wall contained a strangely dark red liquid.
"This is..." Zhou Jing's voice was faint.
"Plasma exchange," Yamada said, casually mentioning that these children suffered from a rare blood disease and needed regular transfusions. But we all knew that was a lie. What was in those IV drips was likely some special drug they had developed.
As I pondered this, the camera suddenly jolted. Someone bumped into Zhou Jing.
"I'm sorry," a nurse said. But as she walked away, I noticed something in her hand.
A few minutes later, Zhou Jing made an excuse to leave the ward and entered the restroom. She pulled out the note the nurse had slipped her:
"Be careful! They have started to suspect. There will be action tonight. Miho."
Miho? I searched for that name on the list and quickly found it: Honda Miho, the granddaughter of former squad member Yamamoto Ichiro, but her file was marked with the word "defector."
There was a traitor among us. The voice of Yamada suddenly crackled through my earpiece. He had arrived in the hallway and was on the phone with someone.
"Is it confirmed?" the other person asked in Japanese.
"Yes, just received news. The failure in Nagamine Village was not an accident; someone deliberately sabotaged the ritual."
"The masks—"
"Don't worry, new ones are ready. This time we won't fail again. Tomorrow night during the full moon, at Ichigaya..."
His voice faded further away, but that news was shocking enough—they were really going to hold a new sacrifice tomorrow night!
Suddenly, a sharp alarm pierced the night.
"Fire! The second basement is on fire!" someone shouted.
In the chaos, I saw several black vans rushing out of the underground garage. Through the windows, I could vaguely see figures struggling inside.
"They're moving the patients!" I shouted into my earpiece. "I'm going after the vans!"
"No! Jiang Zhendong's voice came through urgently. "It's too dangerous! Reinforcements are on their way!"
I didn't have time to hear him finish; I had already started my motorcycle. The van ahead was speeding away, and I had to keep up because I knew that if they succeeded in transferring those children, they would vanish into darkness forever, just like the victims from Nagamine Village.
Under the moonlight, the convoy took a secluded mountain road. My fuel gauge lit up red.
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