Terminal Paradise Seamstress

Time bled away, second by second, until the lobby was steeped in an oppressive gloom.

The moment the clock struck midnight, an invisible force seized the hospital's power. With a harsh buzz, every light died at once, plunging us into a silence so deep it felt solid.

Tap… tap… tap…

Clear, steady footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor. The rhythm was neither fast nor slow, each step landing with a perfect, chilling precision, as if a heel were pressing down directly on our heartbeats.

A tall figure in an old-fashioned nurse's uniform materialized in the shadowed hallway, pushing a creaking medical cart laden with rows of oversized, gleaming syringes. Her face was completely hidden in the deep shadow beneath her cap.

[It's the Head Nurse! S-rank Boss! Her rule is simple—any player with an abnormal heartbeat gets "treated"!]

[This is it! The newbie-killer! Fear makes your heart race, and if it races, you die! It's an impossible check!]

A timid player let out a sharp, involuntary scream.

The instant the sound escaped, the Head Nurse was simply there, right in front of him. Without a wasted motion, she raised a syringe and drove it straight into his neck. His body convulsed violently before collapsing into a still, silent heap.

The rest of us froze, barely daring to breathe. The others clamped hands over their mouths, their faces contorted in a desperate struggle to calm their racing hearts.

As for me, years of illness had left my heartbeat perpetually weak and slow. But now, under this crushing terror, even my failing heart began to pound erratically against my ribs.

I pressed a hand hard against my chest, but it was useless. Death had never felt so close.

The Head Nurse's hidden gaze swept across our group. For a heart-stopping moment, I felt it linger on me.

My blood turned to ice. Had she noticed me?

An eternity seemed to pass before she finally looked away. Nothing happened. She took a step, about to move past me… and somehow, I found my voice.

"Um… Head Nurse?"

I pointed to her elbow, where a clean tear sliced through the fabric of her uniform. "Your uniform is ripped."