Ch 11 – Hospital?
A faint, sterile hum drifted through the air as Kai slowly woke up.
His head felt heavy, as if packed with sand, and the first thing he noticed was the smell sharp, chemical, almost painful to breathe in.
He flinched.
Brightness stabbed through his eyelids. Far too clean. Far too white.
Slowly, carefully, Kai pried his eyes open, expecting to see cracked stone, or the arching wooden ceilings of the small home.
Instead, a blinding white glare reflected off flawless tiles above him.
For a moment, he simply lay there, unmoving, letting his vision sharpen. Every surface around him walls, floor, ceiling was immaculate to the point of discomfort. Not a single blemish, not a single sign of life. The air burned his nostrils with disinfectant, sterile and artificial.
It felt wrong. Too controlled. Too clinical.
He pushed himself up, each movement slow, every muscle protesting. Pain radiated under his skin like static electricity, a storm caged within him. The sheets beneath him rustled—thin, coarse, and unfamiliar. His senses sharpened, instincts igniting.
Something was wrong.
Kai wondered to him self 'just where the hell am i?'
The room was chaos masked by order.
Tubes snaked from the walls, some still connected to his veins, pumping an unknown substance into him. Medical equipment surrounded his bed like a fortress, blinking with soft lights that looked almost alive. Along the far wall, monitors flickered with endless streams of data lines, waves, and symbols he didn't recognize.
Then he noticed the weight on his arms.
Two metallic cubes clung to his body one attached to each wrist, and another pair latched onto his biceps. They were perfectly smooth, faintly warm, and utterly alien.
Kai hesitated, then touched one.
The cube pulsed.
A low hum filled the room. Blue light erupted from each cube simultaneously, merging midair into a single hovering sphere before unfolding into a screen bright and cold.
It wasn't his system. He knew that instantly.
The interface was different: no runic patterns, no familiar structure only sharp, clean lines and precise lettering.
Words appeared.
> Hello, Kai. You are currently in the care of Life Line Hospital.
> Please remain calm.
> A medical attendant will arrive shortly.
> Do not attempt to tamper with the machines.
> We are presently conducting bloodline analysis.
Bloodline analysis.
The phrase struck him like a blade.
His jaw tightened. Every part of him screamed to rip the tubes out, to crush the cubes, to escape before whoever had done this returned. But then—
His eyes locked on a black dome embedded in the corner of the ceiling.
A camera.
Watching.
Kai froze.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe. The unblinking glass eye stared back, patient and silent. Whoever owned this place knew he was awake. Any reckless move now would be noticed.
Forcing his body to remain still, he scanned the room carefully.
No visible exits.
His pulse quickened. On the right, he spotted a seating area—too neat to be genuine. A couch aligned perfectly with the wall. A low glass table stacked with untouched magazines. A window behind the couch revealed only more white light beyond, its reinforced glass gleaming like armor. It wasn't a window to the outside world—it was a barrier.
The silence pressed against him like a weight.
On his left, the wall was lined with monitors. Most blinked in meaningless patterns, but one caught his eye.
His heartbeat.
The number climbed slowly, betraying his rising tension. He ignored it. Beyond those machines, just barely visible, was a narrow hallway leading to a small closed door—likely a bathroom. It was the only possible exit, and even that might be locked.
For now, there was nothing he could do.
He looked back at the holographic screen. Its glow felt almost intrusive, like it wasn't just showing him information it was scanning him, reaching into him.
"Life Line Hospital…" he muttered under his breath. The name carried no meaning.
But the part about his bloodline—
Who were they to test it? What did they know about him? And why did it feel as if even the walls had ears?
Kai's hand hovered over one of the cubes. Maybe, just maybe, he could dig deeper—unlock something, force it to reveal more.
Then
A metallic click .sound cut through the silence.
It came from beyond the hallway door.
Kai's body went rigid, instincts taking over. His breathing slowed. His ears sharpened. He filtered the sounds, counting every step, every echo.
More than one.
Not one. Not two.
'Three… at least three people,"* he thought, muscles coiling like a spring. '