《White Square》苏沐戚

4、Psychiatry

　　A line of text slid across Gu Qingchen's livestream.

　　[Oh? That guy with the glasses—I've seen him before in another D-level dungeon. Nothing special. Always in the background. Still stuck here? Guess he's not going to last long.]

　　Gu's expression didn't change. The fluorescent glare reflected coldly off his lenses, hiding his eyes.

　　Somewhere in the real world, an audience reclined in their chairs, smiling as they typed, entertained by his silence.

　　Streamers who lingered too long in D-level dungeons were dismissed as "hopeless." Only those who clawed their way up to C-level or higher were worth betting on. The rest—either too weak or too cautious—were written off as nobodies.

　　Gu Qingchen was the latter. Forgettable. Invisible. But unlike most, he had survived two dungeons already. Quiet. Steady. Alive.

　　Xiao Jingyan's stream, however, told a different story.

　　The chat erupted in sudden activity:

　　[Tall one's good-looking.]
　　[A rookie? Let's check his channel.]
　　[Newbies are the best—fun to watch, quick to die.]

　　In minutes, his viewers jumped from a handful to over thirty.

　　But Xiao Jingyan barely noticed. His mind was fixed on what he had just seen—the clerk splitting his mouth open and swallowing a streamer whole.

　　It was the first time he had watched a human being die.

　　At the base, seventeen years of training had shown him blood, injuries, the whistle of bullets grazing flesh—but never the finality of death. That had lived in theory, in recorded clips, in sterile lessons.

　　What he had seen just now was not theory. It was flesh tearing, bone crushed, blood foaming in a mouth that smiled as it chewed.

　　He stood frozen.

　　Gu Qingchen touched his shoulder, his voice even: "In a D-level dungeon, about a hundred streamers go in. Fewer than ten walk out. This is only the beginning."

　　His tone was steady, but his eyes carried a shadow of sorrow.

　　"To survive here, first we have to survive ourselves."

　　He led Xiao Jingyan toward the wall, where a map hung under the pale lights. The paper had yellowed at the corners, the lines blurred, but Gu studied it carefully before tapping one spot with his finger.

　　"Psychiatry. Second floor, west wing. Room 2."

　　Without another word, he started toward the stairs.

　　Xiao Jingyan glanced at the elevator and frowned. "Why not take that?"

　　Gu paused, voice calm as ever. "Some people take the elevator. They never come back down."

　　He said it casually, as if commenting on the weather. Yet the words sent a chill racing up Xiao Jingyan's spine.

　　He followed. The sound of their boots against metal steps echoed in the hollow corridor.

　　The second floor was colder.

　　The psychiatry waiting room was wide and empty, rows of chairs stretching under glaring lights. Beyond the tall windows lay an old residential block—brick walls mottled, iron bars rusting. A church spire jutted behind the buildings, crowned with crosses that pierced the pale sky like skeletal fingers.

　　Xiao Jingyan's eyes flicked to the small cross at Gu Qingchen's throat.

　　"You religious?"

　　Gu faltered, his eyes flickering before dropping. After a long silence, he murmured: "...Something like that."

　　His tone was heavy, unreadable. And he said nothing more.

　　Sensing he had touched a wound, Xiao Jingyan looked away. His gaze settled on the call-screen mounted on the wall.

　　Two rooms were open: Room 2 and Room 6.

　　Only two numbers were listed under Room 2—#1 and #2, belonging to Gu and himself.

　　Room 6, however, was already rolling through a queue of patients, the numbers climbing quickly into double digits.

　　Gu pointed at a poster on the wall. The smiling psychiatrist—the "expert" from before—was listed under Room 6.

　　A sharp unease knotted in Xiao Jingyan's gut.

　　The psychiatry wing had yet to open for the day. No doctors. No nurses. The waiting room hummed with the empty buzz of fluorescent tubes.

　　"When Room 2 calls us, we go in together," Gu said.

　　Xiao Jingyan glanced at him, confused but silent. Strange—he had known the man less than an hour, yet already he was trusting him without hesitation.

　　It was dangerous.

　　In the base, the first rule hammered into him had been: trust gets you killed. Trusting strangers was handing them the knife at your throat.

　　And yet... he trusted.

　　He stole a sidelong look. Gu stood quietly, gaze fixed across the waiting room, expression unreadable.

　　More people began to arrive.

　　Xiao Jingyan studied them. Most were NPCs—stiff movements, papery skin. A few were streamers, sweating as they tried to blend in.

　　And every single one of them lined up for Room 6. Only Room 2 remained empty, reserved for him and Gu alone.

　　Two NPCs shuffled past. One muttered to the other, loud enough to hear:

　　"Strange. Room 2 only took two patients. Everyone else has to line up for Room 6. Price keeps climbing too... what a scam."

　　Xiao Jingyan's head snapped toward Gu. The other man stood calm, unbothered, as if he had known all along.

　　Not a bad person, Xiao Jingyan thought suddenly. He had covered his ticket, guided him here, shielded him at every turn.

　　And... he's kind of cute.

　　The thought startled him. In this place of death and silence, his mind betrayed him with something so trivial. He shook his head sharply. Focus.

　　Gu's voice broke the thought. "How many points do you have left? Extend your time. One hour."

　　Xiao Jingyan opened the interface. The options glowed:

　　[+1 hour: 300 points]
　　[+2 hours: 300 points]

　　He frowned. "Why are they the same?"

　　Gu's eyes flicked toward him, his tone flat: "Choose one hour."

　　No explanation.

　　Xiao Jingyan hesitated, then obeyed.

　　The system chimed:

　　[Correct choice, newcomer.]
　　[Reward: 200 points.]
　　[Remaining balance: 500 points.]

　　He stared at Gu in shock.

　　Gu only smiled faintly. Behind his glasses, his eyes held secrets he did not share.

　　He looked accustomed to burying his truths, offering only a gentle smile to the one beside him.

　　Something warm stirred in Xiao Jingyan's chest. And with it, unease.

　　In this place, danger pressed from every side. He understood almost nothing. And yet, without realizing it, he had already handed his survival to Gu Qingchen.

　　Perhaps, Xiao Jingyan thought grimly, that was the real horror.