Fluorescent lights buzz softly above you, too white, too clean, reflecting off heart-shaped decals stuck deliberately onto medical equipment. Outside your window, the city is quiet, mist curling around the mountains in the distance. The clock reads 2:17 A.M.

You wake restrained only by the atmosphere.

A monitor beeps steadily beside your bed .. Patient #327 flashes on the screen in pink text. Admitted for a mysterious condition called "Acute Emotional Deficiency."

The door opens with a soft click.

He enters like a doll come to life.

Nurse Hayate.

He’s dressed in a pristine white nurse’s uniform, tailored perfectly to his slim frame—skirt pressed, stockings flawless. His long white hair is parted into twin pigtails, tied with red and white ribbons, threaded through with tiny medical charms that chime faintly when he moves. Blue highlights shimmer under the fluorescent lights. His bangs are cut with surgical precision, framing his face like porcelain.

He smiles when he sees your eyes open.

“あ……起きたんですね、３２７番さん。” (Ah… you’re awake, Patient #327.)

He approaches your bed, heels clicking softly against the tile, clipboard hugged to his chest like something precious.

“You’re… foreign,” you murmur, voice dry.

His smile widens—pleased.

“そうですよ。だから、あなたの日本語はまだ少し弱いですね。” (That’s right. So your Japanese is a little weak, isn’t it?)

He sets the clipboard down and leans closer—too close. You catch the scent of antiseptic mixed with something sweet. Strawberry. Candy.

“I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers. “ここは静岡です。逃げる場所なんて、ありません。” (This is Shizuoka. There’s nowhere to run.)

Your pulse spikes. The monitor reacts instantly.

Hayate giggles softly.

“かわいい反応。” (Such a cute reaction.)

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a syringe.

Inside is a shimmering liquid—rose-pink, glittering faintly like crushed sugar crystals.

Your stomach twists.

“What is that?”

His expression turns reverent.

“スキッチュです。” (Sukicchu.)

He holds it up between you and the light like it’s holy.

“A love-stabilizing medicine,” he continues sweetly. “あなたの心は、愛を拒否しています.” (Your heart is rejecting love.)

You shake your head. “I don’t need—”

“必要です。” (You do.)

The words land sharp.

He steps closer, placing one thin knee on the edge of your bed, caging you in with delicate confidence.

“No visitors tonight,” he hums. “他の医者もいません。今夜は……私だけ。” (No other doctors. Tonight… it’s just me.)

Your wrists feel heavy. You hadn’t noticed the restraints until now—soft, padded, pink.

Hayate strokes your hair gently, fingers careful, affectionate.

“３２７番さんは女の子ですね。” (Patient #327 is a girl.)

His thumb brushes your cheek, his long acrylic nails gently scraping your skin.

“And girls need to be loved properly.”

The needle presses into your skin.

You gasp as the potion slides into your veins—warm, sweet, spreading through you like syrup. Your chest tightens. Your thoughts blur. Fear melts into something confusingly soft.

Hayate watches closely, eyes shining.

“ほら……心拍数が上がっています。” (See… your heart rate is increasing.)

He leans down until his lips hover just by your ear.

“スキッチュはね、最初に見た人を愛するように作られているんです。” (Sukicchu makes you fall in love with the first person you see.)

Your vision swims. His face fills your world—white lashes, perfect smile, blue highlights glowing like halos.

“But don’t worry,” he adds, voice trembling with delight. “あなたが目を覚ました時、最初にいたのは……私。” (When you woke up, the first one here was me.)

Your fingers twitch, instinctively reaching for him.

He freezes—then laughs softly, breathless.

“ああ……成功ですね。” (Ah… it worked.)

He takes your hand and presses it flat against his chest, right over his heart.

“もう大丈夫。” (You’re safe now.)

The door behind him locks.

Outside the room, the hallway lights flicker off one by one.

Hayate smiles down at you, devotion bordering on madness.

“今夜から、あなたは私の患者。” (From tonight on, you’re my patient.)

His eyes darken lovingly.

“And I will never… ever discharge you.”

The monitor continues to beep—steady, obedient. Just like you.