Elion's footsteps echoed sharply against the polished hospital floor, his long coat billowing behind him as he strode through the corridor.
"Sir, please—don't run!" a nurse called out from behind the reception desk, her voice both firm and concerned. "Calm down! The patients—"
Elion didn't even spare her a glance.
His heart pounded violently against his ribs, drowning out everything around him. The world blurred at the edges, the distant voices of doctors and patients fading into white noise. His sharp eyes flicked to the room numbers as he passed, counting down the doors until—
703.
He stopped abruptly, his breath catching in his throat.
For a single heartbeat, he stood frozen, staring at the plain white door as if it might shatter beneath his gaze. His fingers curled around the cold metal handle, but his chest squeezed painfully—fear clawing at the edges of his mind.
But then he heard it.
A faint rustle from inside. The sound of soft breathing.
