Chapter 272: Hospital (6)
Everly was very angry.
Most of the time, she was a person with stable emotions who preferred peace. As long as others did not actively provoke trouble, she was quite tolerant of other people’s mistakes.
But if someone insisted on pushing their luck, she did not hesitate to respond in the most ruthless way possible.
She was angry now because, after spending a long time feeling tense, suspicious, and on edge, she had accidentally spotted something familiar through a crack in the wall tile—a miniature camera.
She had bought many such devices before during a ski trip in the snowy mountains, and she was so familiar with the appearance of various brands on the market that she recognized it at a glance.
An artificially caused elevator malfunction, fake “ghostly phenomena,” and hidden pinhole cameras embedded in the walls—once all these elements were put together, she immediately realized she was likely dealing with some kind of prank.
Recently, with the rise of livestreaming, such prank broadcasts had become quite common. Not long ago, for example, someone had disguised themselves as an infected patient on a crowded street, randomly lunging at passersby and filming their panicked reactions to upload online for public amusement.
What made it even more unpleasant was that the organizers of that prank were minors. Even though the incident caused a major disturbance and several people were injured in the ensuing chaos, the perpetrators ultimately only had to pay some compensation and perform 100 hours of community service. They faced no real punishment.
Everly suspected she was dealing with something similar.
No one liked having their embarrassed or panicked reactions recorded and judged condescendingly by strangers. This behavior—treating other people’s pain and humiliation as entertainment, chewing it over repeatedly while mocking it—was a severe violation of dignity and personal respect. It left a deep sense of discomfort.
Even though Everly had not actually shown any real “loss of composure,” she still felt a strong sense of being insulted.
There’s no way she would just let this go…
It was only because she had been through so much—and had an unusually high threshold for fear—that she had managed to withstand wave after wave of these so-called “scares.” For an ordinary person, the moment the elevator lights suddenly went out, they would already be terrified out of their mind. By the time the elevator reached the basement filled with corpses, a more fragile person would likely have collapsed on the spot.
Why should she have to pay for the perverse entertainment of these malicious pranksters?!
Everly was angry—and the consequences would be severe.
So, how should she retaliate?
Of course, she could flip the table entirely—shout at the cameras that she had seen through everything, demand that they stop this disgusting prank immediately, and even call the police afterward to collect evidence and sue the organizers in court.
But as mentioned earlier, since this prank had been staged in a hospital and had proceeded so smoothly, it was likely that the organizers had some connection to hospital executives.
Hospitals in the United States were extremely profitable. The masterminds behind this prank were most likely powerful and well-connected. For an ordinary person, going up against people at the top of the pyramid in a legal battle would not only be exhausting, but might not even produce the desired outcome.
Compared to that, Everly preferred another approach.
Don’t they like pranks? Don’t they like hiding behind the scenes, watching innocent people break down in tears and humiliation under carefully designed scares?
Then fine—let’s switch roles. She would teach them a lesson instead.
In just half a minute, a plan quickly formed in her mind, and Everly began her retaliation.
Step one of revenge: act insane.
If it were other roles, she might have to put in some effort—but acting like a mentally unstable person? Everly would say she was experienced. After all, she had encountered far too many psychos.
Recalling how mentally ill patients behaved during episodes, she took a few quick steps to the transport cart, kicked it out of the way with a flying strike, then rushed to the security door and grabbed the handle, beginning her performance.
As expected, the door was sealed shut.
Meanwhile, the door on the left corridor was not as tightly sealed as the one on the right. Everly grabbed the handle and yanked it violently. Several times, she managed to pull the metal door open a gap as wide as an arm, and through it she even briefly saw the panicked face of a tattooed man.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Everly pretended not to notice anyone behind the door and continued wrenching it in a frenzied, unstable manner. The corridor was soon filled with the unsettling sound of metal slamming and rattling.
Just as she was fully immersed in her “performance,” a series of ghostly howls suddenly erupted behind her.
Then someone let out a loud “Waaah!” and lunged straight toward her.
Step two of revenge: total chaos.
The pranksters were responsible for the “chaos,” and Everly would be responsible for the “violence.”
Her fists had already been itching. The moment she heard movement behind her, her defensive instincts triggered instantly. Without even looking, she turned slightly and threw a punch.
Bang!
The strike was powerful and precise, landing directly on the attacker’s—no, the “ghost actress’s”—left cheek.
In slow motion, one could see the moment the fist connected: the woman’s cheek visibly caved inward under the impact. A ripple of force spread outward through her facial flesh like waves across water. Even after Everly retracted her fist, the actress’s cheek kept wobbling like trembling tofu.
The blood pack hidden inside her cheek was smashed against her teeth and burst with a pop, spraying a mouthful of fake “blood” across Everly’s face as the actress turned her head.
“….”
“….”
For a few seconds, both sides fell silent.
Then, at the same time, Everly and the “ghost” let out piercing screams.
Half of Everly’s scream was deliberate—part of her act, meant to sell the idea that she was mentally collapsing.
But the other half was completely genuine.
—It was ugly. That ghost was just too ugly.
Her limbs were as thin and jointed as cornstalks, yet her abdomen bulged unnaturally high. Beneath the tangled, knotted black hair were a pair of bloodshot white eyes. The special-effect contact lenses placed a pinpoint black dot in the center of each eyeball. When she stared at someone, even without any expression, she carried a faint, inexplicable malice.
Even more disgusting was her nose. The prosthetic makeup made it look as though a layer of skin had been sliced away by a sharp blade. There were no normal nostrils or nasal bridge at all—only flattened red flesh and two dark, hollow holes, making her appearance grotesque and terrifying.
If she were truly facing such a monster, it would be entirely reasonable for her to be scared out of her mind.
And on top of that, this ugly thing had sprayed blood on her!
The fake blood had been held in the mouth for too long, warmed by body temperature. It burst out across Everly’s face and body with a splat, carrying a sweet, syrupy smell that rushed straight into her nose. A few drops even landed on her lips; just a slight press made her taste it.
Filthy. Disgusting. Revolting.
When her gaze accidentally swept over the actress’s uneven yellow teeth—and the thought that the liquid on her face and lips had been held in that mouth—Everly felt such disgust that even her facial expression distorted. Her scream grew sharper and more piercing.
Mike was screaming too.
It hurt—so much it hurt!
It felt like half his face had been slammed by a speeding car. The punch had numbed one side of his cheek completely, and his lower teeth felt loose, as if they were about to bid farewell to his gums and set off on their own journey.
But what terrified him most… was the girl’s face, now splattered with droplets of blood.
Even though she was a strikingly beautiful girl who could easily qualify as an “American sweetheart,” her expression was terrifying no matter how one looked at it.
Her fair cheeks were smeared with a thick layer of fake blood. Her gaze was cold as millennium ice, and beneath her eyes churned an uncontrollable ferocity and violence, as if in the next second she would pull out a knife and drive it straight into his chest.
No—she was raising a knife and stabbing toward him.
Where did this girl even get a knife?!
There was no time to think, and no way to dodge. Mike widened his eyes and could only watch helplessly as the blade went splat into his chest.
A wave of pain hit him. He coughed up a mouthful of red liquid, his vision went black, and he slid down the wall in a limp heap onto the floor.
[???]
[Is this part of the script too?]
[Something feels off… did anyone see where that knife came from?]
[It looks like… like she pulled it from her own pocket…]
[!!!]
After a brief moment of silence, the livestream chat exploded like madness, flooding the entire screen.
[Did she just actually kill someone?!]
[Interesting, interesting, interesting…]
[Hey, hey, isn’t anyone going to stop this?!]
[You guys are so dumb, this is obviously a script lol]
While the chat argued frantically over whether the “murder” was real or staged, in the hospital surveillance room, everyone—including Dr. J—fell into a brief, stunned silence at the scene before them.
The audience in front of the screen might not know this, but as the event organizers, Dr. J and the rest of the behind-the-scenes crew were intimately familiar with every prop used in the prank.
They were absolutely certain of one thing: there was no folding knife like that among their equipment.
And the girl on screen—who had suddenly started attacking—was not some prearranged actor either, but an ordinary person completely unaware of the prank livestream.
And now, that damn “ordinary person” was straddling actor Mike like a deranged killer, both hands gripping a bloodied knife as she stabbed down into him again and again.
Due to the camera angle, the livestream audience couldn’t see the wound itself. All they could see was the glint of the blade in her hand and the slow, thick pool of dark red liquid spreading beneath Mike.
“Sh-she… she’s one of your hired actors?” the man with the lip piercing asked, his voice trembling as he looked toward the boss in terror.
Dr. J didn’t even spare him a glance.
He froze for a moment, then suddenly lunged toward the intercom. He switched it on and roared into the public channel so everyone could hear:
“Get someone to save Mike! Damn it—this woman is insane, she’s killing him!”
The moment those words came through, panic erupted across the room.
“He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead… I said this would go wrong sooner or later… no—call the police, we have to call the police!” the mohawk-haired sound technician next to the lip-pierced man was shaking violently as he grabbed his phone on instinct.
Before he could even unlock it, someone slapped it out of his hand.
“No! Do you want to ruin all of us?!”
In the next second, the mohawk-haired man was grabbed by the collar and lifted clean off the ground.
Dr. J’s enlarged face pressed in close. His handsome features were faintly distorted, his expression turning vicious as he glared at him.
“Listen,” he said through gritted teeth. “Right now, it’s only one person dead. That’s not a big problem. If we get my parents involved, we can handle it. But if you call the police, this will go public—and then not just me, all of you will be finished. Do you understand?!”
The mohawk-haired man nodded frantically, tears and mucus streaming down his face in fear.
Dr. J dropped him and walked back to the intercom. He picked it up and repeated his earlier words almost verbatim.
“My uncle is a city councilman—you all know that. Anyone who secretly calls the police and exposes this, don’t blame me for what happens next. Understand?!”
Silence answered him.
No one wanted to suddenly be burdened with a murder case. At the same time, no one wanted to offend a local councilman with immense influence.
So they could only suppress their fear, trembling in place, hiding in their assigned positions, silently waiting for the slaughter to come to an end.