The corridor narrowed as they moved deeper into the hospital.
The air felt heavier here—thicker, like it resisted every breath. The flickering lights above buzzed louder, their glow dimming as if struggling to exist. Doors lined the hallway on both sides, most hanging ajar, some ripped clean off their hinges.
Emiya slowed his steps.
Something's wrong.
"The cursed energy here is… denser," he murmured before he could stop himself.
Shoko didn't answer, but her pace slowed as well.
The energy wasn't spreading randomly. It was concentrated. Directed. Like blood flowing toward a single organ.
At the end of the corridor stood a pair of double doors.
They didn't match the rest of the building.
Clean. Smooth. Unblemished.
A jarring contrast to the decay surrounding them.
A faint light blinked behind the glass.
ICU.
Emiya swallowed.
"ICU, huh," he muttered. "Yeah. Of course it's the ICU."
Shoko stepped through first.
Emiya followed.
The moment they crossed the threshold—
SLAM.
The doors behind them crashed shut with violent force, the sound ripping through the corridor like a gunshot.
Emiya spun instantly.
"What the—!"
He lunged forward and wrapped his hand around the handle, exerting all his strength.
Nothing.
The metal didn't even creak.
The door didn't budge.
Emiya stepped back, jaw tight.
Okay. Fine. Door won't open?
No problem.
His cursed energy stirred instinctively.
"Deploy uni—"
"Don't."
Shoko's voice cut in.
Emiya froze mid-thought and looked at her.
"What?"
She was staring at the door—not the handle, but the space around it. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"We're not locked in by a door," she said calmly. "We're sealed in."
Emiya frowned. "What?"
She turned to face him.
"This is a curse territory."
He blinked. "…Like a Domain?"
"Not a full Domain Expansion," Shoko replied. "But somewhat similar in principle."
She gestured around them.
"A curse territory is when a curse spreads its influence over a space and claims it. Inside, its presence is amplified. Escape routes are suppressed. Physical exits stop being exits."
Emiya glanced back at the door.
"…So even if I break it—"
"You'll still be here," Shoko finished. "Or worse, you'll waste cursed energy and alert it."
Emiya clicked his tongue quietly.
Great. Of course.
He took a breath and finally paid attention—not to what he saw, but to what he felt.
That's when it hit him.
The cursed energy here was thick.
Not just lingering—layered. Like humidity before a storm, pressing against his skin, crawling along his nerves. Every breath felt heavier than the last.
"…This is dense," he muttered.
Shoko nodded once.
"Too dense."
She stepped forward, eyes scanning the ICU.
The contrast was jarring.
The corridor behind them was decayed, rotting, abandoned.
But the ICU—
Clean floors. Intact walls. Curtains unstained.
Medical monitors lined neatly beside beds, their screens dark but intact. An operating light hung above one bed, pristine and unmoving.
Like the place had been preserved.
Or maintained.
"This territory is stable," Shoko said. "That alone disqualifies it from being Grade Two."
Emiya frowned.
"So… Grade One?"
She didn't answer immediately.
"…The Window said Grade Two."
"They were wrong," Shoko said flatly. "Or something interfered with their assessment."
Emiya let out a humorless laugh.
"Yeah. Of course they were."
Silence.
Then—
laughter.
Soft.
Light.
Pleasant.
It echoed through the ICU like a lullaby—gentle enough that, for half a second, Emiya's brain tried to categorize it as harmless.
That half second was all it took for goosebumps to crawl up his arms.
He stopped.
"…Did you hear that?" he asked quietly.
Shoko had already halted.
"Yes."
The laughter came again, closer this time. It bounced off the walls, impossible to pinpoint, as if the sound itself drifted through the room.
Then a voice followed.
Sweet. Warm. Caring.
"Please lie down," it said gently.
"Let me give you an injection."
Injection?
"No thanks," Emiya said quickly, forcing levity into his voice. "I'm good. Fully vaccinated."
The laughter stopped.
For a single heartbeat, the ICU went completely silent.
Then the curtain at the far end of the room slid aside.
A woman stepped out.
She was—beautiful.
Black hair, neatly tied back. Clear skin. Gentle eyes. A face shaped by practiced reassurance.
A nurse.
Her uniform was pink. Immaculate. Not a stain. Not a wrinkle.
She looked perfectly human.
Too human.
The only thing wrong—
She was holding a syringe.
It was massive.
As long as a baseball bat. Thick glass barrel filled with a viscous, translucent fluid that glowed faintly with cursed energy. The needle was jagged and far too sharp, its tip dripping onto the floor with a wet plink.
Emiya felt his stomach drop.
The laughter returned—soft giggles this time.
"Oh?" the nurse said sweetly. "Really?"
"Will you really not let me give you the tetanus shot?"
The words were gentle.
The intent was not.
Emiya's eyes darted to Shoko.
She wasn't bored anymore.
Her expression had gone flat in a way that made his chest tighten.
"…Nope," he said.
The nurse smiled.
Warm. Kind. Motherly.
"Oh," she said softly, tilting her head. "That's not good."
She took one slow step forward.
The monitors beside the beds began to beep faster.
"You really should listen to medical professionals," she continued gently."Especially when you're injured."
Emiya's eyes flicked down.
Only then did he notice—
The floor beneath his feet was faintly sticky.
Dark stains trailed toward the beds.
Blood.
Shoko stepped forward half a pace, eyes cold.
"…So this is it," she said. "A curse with a human fixation."
The nurse's smile widened just a little.
"Oh," she said happily. "You can tell?"
Her head twitched—just a fraction too fast.
"I tried very hard to take care of them," she continued. "But they wouldn't stay still. They kept screaming. Pulling away."
Her grip tightened on the syringe.
"I hate when patients don't cooperate."
The cursed energy surged.
The air distorted, pressure slamming down on there's shoulders like a physical weight.
Shoko's eyes narrowed.
"…This isn't Grade One either," she said flatly.
The nurse giggled.
A sharp, delighted sound.
"Semi–Special Grade," Shoko corrected.
The ICU doors behind them vanished—replaced by smooth, flesh-like walls pulsing faintly.
Territory fully established.
The nurse raised the syringe with both hands, resting it against her shoulder like a bat.
"Now," she said sweetly, eyes locking onto Emiya,
"please lie down."
Emiya swallowed hard, cursed energy beginning to circulate through his body.
"So," he said quietly,"We beat the curse… or we don't leave."