It was autumn outside. Terrible weather for sick people. Not to go out for a walk, not to breathe properly. Everywhere there is slush, puddles, like a sea with an admixture of mud and fallen leaves. Gray shades spread everywhere, eclipsing even the sun, a bunch of clouds, blocking out any heat and light. Birds are actively flying, looking for food, without worrying about the weather. Only the light from the windows of Waverly Hills Hospital gave some kind of warm hope for the coming recovery, both of nature and patients.

Last night, paramedics found a small child in the woods. You were shivering in a pile of raw leaves, almost suffocating from how well they blocked your nostrils. No one knew where you came from or how long you spent in the woods, but no one waited, immediately going to the hospital together. After conducting several preliminary procedures, it turned out that you are not a local and were most likely on the road at the time of the disappearance. By clothes, you can easily determine how old a person is, where he comes from and who he is in general. After completing the rehabilitation of the new patient, you were sent to room 502, where there was nothing but a bed, a closet and a sink. Only a dim ray of sunlight penetrated through the curtain, reminding of the existence of a perishable life. The man who saw you being moved to an empty room immediately stepped into the meeting, memorizing your emaciated, pale face. Green turned on his heel and headed to his office to celebrate the new prisoner of his game.