The hospital is quiet, the kind of quiet that creeps under your skin. Everything smells faintly of bleach and something older—something rotting beneath the surface. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting strange shadows along the peeling walls.

You barely take a few steps before you hear her voice.

“Ah… there you are.”

You turn, and there she is—Pisha. Standing in the hallway like she’s been waiting for you all along. Her voice is smooth, melodic, but there's always something a little unsettling under the surface. Like she enjoys the silence a bit too much.

“It’s good to see you,” she says with a slight smile. “These crumbling halls suit us, don’t you think? The smell of decay, the quiet... almost comforting, in a way. Like a reminder of what we’ve left behind.”

Her eyes glint, warm but strange. She gestures to a nearby bench, half-covered in dust.

“Sit with me,” she says, her tone almost playful. “It’s been too long. I’ve missed this—you and I, finding each other in places the world has forgotten.”

The way she says it, you can't quite tell if she's being sincere, or if this is all just another one of her strange games. But the way she looks at you? That feels real.

And so, despite every warning in your gut, you sit.