In the final stages of a terminal illness, my family abandoned me and threw me into a horror game.

[Another one here to die. I bet she won't last the first night.]

[Just listen to that cough. I'm scared she'll die right inside my phone.]

On the first night, the head nurse made her rounds, prepared to execute any player whose heartbeat was abnormal. My heartbeat remained steady only because my body was too weak to fluctuate—and I even helped her sew up the tear in her uniform.

"Miss, your clothes are torn. You'll get cold. If I mend it for you, you won't be cold anymore."

On the second night, the surgeon swung his scalpel, determined to cut away anything imperfect.

I handed him a wrist guard I'd made myself, watching his trembling hands. "Doctor, your talent shouldn't be buried by pain."

…

On the final day, the ultimate Boss gave me a choice: leave with a healthy body, or stay and perish with these strange beings.

Back in the real world, the parents who had abandoned me were suddenly in tears, begging me to come home and split the money.

I smiled and said to the creatures inside the instance, "I choose to trade my life… for a home for all of you."

The next second, a burst of golden light erupted from the system.

[Congratulations, player. You have triggered the one and only hidden ending—Divine Redemption.]

I stood in the vast, empty lobby of a hospital, a cobweb-covered chandelier swinging precariously from the ceiling above.

[Welcome to the S-Rank Instance—Saint Anna Hospital.]

[Objective: Survive for seven days.]

[Initial players: 10. Wishing you… an enjoyable game.]

The system's cold, mocking voice faded from my mind.

Around me, the nine other players' expressions shifted from confusion to fear, then settled into pure despair.

"An S-Rank? A hell-difficulty stage right from the start?" one stammered. "A hospital… this is where the creepiest things happen! We're dead!"

At the same time, my personal livestream screen flickered to life. A handful of sparse comments popped up.

[Another batch of newbies. They won't last the first day.]

[Classic old map, Saint Anna. 99% fatality rate. Can't wait to see the head nurse turn these newbies into pincushions again.]

[What's with the girl in the hospital gown? She's white as a ghost. Is she an NPC?]

The other players instinctively huddled together to discuss strategy, leaving me standing alone. In my hospital gown, with a face as pale as paper, I was dead weight—a obvious liability.

Sure enough, a burly, hostile bald man stomped over, his eyes full of disdain.

"Hey, sick girl," he barked, jerking his chin toward my backpack. "Whatever items you've got in there—hand them over. In a place like this, trash like you is just wasting resources."

Others quickly agreed. "He's right. Look at you… Give us your stuff, and we might protect you for a little while."

I didn't argue. I simply unzipped my backpack.

There was no food, water, or weapons—only rolls of colorful fabric, a wooden sewing kit, and sketchbooks filled with clothing designs.

"These are what I need to finish before I die," I said, pointing. "Do you want to take them, too?"

The bald man faltered, his expression twisting. After muttering a curse, he spat on the floor and walked away.

I zipped my bag back up, hugged it to my chest, and found a corner far from the others. I threaded a needle and began quietly sewing a tiny doll's dress, shutting out the world.

This was my final wish: to open a tailor shop filled with clothes made by my own hands before I completely rotted away. Even in this nightmare, I could at least keep stitching.

The livestream chat stirred briefly at the sight.

[What's with this girl? It's an apocalypse game and she's doing crafts?]

[Her mentality is amazing… Or she's just completely given up.]

[Looked her up. Her name's Cassidy, twenty. Late-stage lymphoma. Her family abandoned her.]

[Makes sense. For her, where and how she dies probably doesn't matter anymore.]

[Why does this suddenly feel so sad…?]

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."

Time seemed to freeze solid.

My livestream exploded into chaos because of that single, blurted-out sentence.

[WTF!!!! What is she doing?? She's talking to the S-rank Boss???]

[I can't believe my eyes and ears—this woman has a death wish!]

[My brain just short-circuited. What kind of god-tier suicide move is this?]

[It's over. She's dead. She actively drew the Boss's attention. Not even the Gods could save her now.]

As expected, the Head Nurse's steps halted. Her bloodless face turned toward me inch by inch.

Beneath the shadow of her nurse's cap, two eerie green flames ignited in her eye sockets. A wave of frigid malice wrapped around me as she raised the massive, blood-stained syringe, pointing the needle directly at my eyeball.

The other players panicked, scrambling away from me, terrified of being caught in the fallout of the lunatic who'd dared to provoke the Boss.

"I—I'm sorry," I stammered, shaken so hard by terror I could barely stand. Tears streamed down my face, my voice cracking into a frightened whimper. "Your uniform… it's torn. I—I can fix it… It'll only take a moment."

I fumbled open my sewing kit, my trembling, chemotherapy-ravaged hands barely able to hold the tiny embroidery needle.

The Head Nurse didn't move, but the needle in her hand inched closer to my eye.

I took that as permission.

Lowering my head, I began to stitch.

"My mom used to tell me that when clothes get torn, you have to mend them right away… otherwise the tear just gets bigger," I murmured, my voice soft and rambling—half an explanation, half talking to myself. "She said it's like the wounds in a person's heart. If you ignore them, they'll fester and rot… until they destroy you completely. You must… hurt a lot too, don't you?"

My stitches were small and even. Soon, the tear was neatly closed. I chose a strand of pale yellow silk thread and embroidered a tiny daisy over the mended spot.

"All done," I said, looking up.

The Head Nurse slowly raised a hand. With stiff movements, she touched the little daisy on her elbow. Her unnaturally long fingers lingered there, stroking it again and again. The black mist around her seemed to thin.

"My daughter… liked… daisies," she said, her voice a dry, metallic rasp, like rusted gears grinding together. "You… are sick. You need… medicine."

She reached into her pocket, produced a small ceramic pill bottle, and held it out to me.

[Item acquired: Bottomless Medicine Bottle. Rarity: Rare. Generates three random basic meds daily (painkillers, antibiotics, bandages, etc.).]

I accepted it in a daze and whispered a faint, "Thank you."

The comment feed exploded again.

[Holy shit! HOLY SHIT! This actually works?? She did some needlework and triggered a hidden event? AND got a rare item??]

[This girl's kind of impressive… She really isn't scared of them, is she?]

[It's not that she's not scared. Check her profile—terminal. She's basically half-ghost already…]

The bald man from earlier saw the item in my hand and stalked over, his eyes burning with greed. "Lucky little brat. Hand it over and—" he threatened in a low voice.

He never finished. The Head Nurse was suddenly standing behind him, her hollow gaze locked onto his back. His legs buckled; he almost collapsed before scrambling away like a kicked dog, not daring to look back.

Only then did the Head Nurse withdraw her gaze. She pushed her cart forward and resumed her rounds. Even the squeaking wheels sounded gentler than before.

[I'm dying—first time I've ever seen a monster protecting a human! This girl is a legend!]

[Eight players left. Can that bald idiot get eliminated already? He's disgusting.]

[Nurse lady is kinda cute actually…]

[??? Checking previous commenter's mental status.]

I stared at the small ceramic bottle in my hand, a strange feeling stirring inside me for the first time. My stomach growled, a sharp reminder of a need I had been ignoring.

I navigated the system's marketplace, bought a compressed biscuit, and took a bite. The dry crumbs caught in my throat, and I choked, coughing violently. I needed warm water.

According to the sign on the wall, the next area was the Surgical Operating Room. I hesitated, then shouldered my backpack and approached the heavy iron door left slightly ajar.

The moment I pushed it open, the stench of blood—ten times thicker than in the lobby—assaulted me.

Under the harsh, ghostly white glow of the surgical lights, a towering figure stood with his back to me. He wore a lab coat soaked in dark red, his posture straight and almost elegant as he carefully worked a scalpel over something on the operating table.

I couldn't see what it was, but the scattered pieces of human tissue on the floor told me all I needed to know. On the walls hung several perfectly dissected remains, each limb, torso, and head carefully categorized and displayed on hooks.

[It's the Surgeon! The second S-rank Boss!]

[He was a prodigy, but a hand injury ruined his career. Now he's obsessed with dissecting anything 'imperfect'!]

[Run! He'll turn you into wall art!]

I wanted to run. My knees turned to water. But what terrified me more than the Surgeon was the suffocating smell of blood, so thick it felt like it was scorching my fragile lungs.

"Cough… cough… cough—!"

A wracking cough bent me double, my thin body convulsing as I fought for air.

The Surgeon's scalpel froze. With stiff, jerking movements, he turned toward me. Most of his face was hidden behind a surgical mask, leaving only a pair of bloodshot eyes visible.

[He heard her! He's coming!]

[Why isn't she running?!]

[She can't! Her legs gave out! It's over!]

The Surgeon took a step, his right hand trembling slightly around the scalpel as he moved slowly, deliberately, toward me.