Shuang Shenghua had more or less given up, lying on the hospital bed like a salted fish, staring blankly at the ceiling with a look of utter defeat and lifelessness.
“What an interesting kid.” Li Guanqi looked at her and couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the fervor of the duel gradually fading.
As reason returned to its throne, he recalled his cringe-worthy declarations during the duel and felt his face flush with embarrassment.
Stuff like “the cursed chant from the abyss” and “the formula for victory has already been written.”
The duel itself was great, full emotional payoff, but it definitely took a toll on his throat and dignity.
Once he calmed down, he began to notice things unrelated to the duel.
Like———— why was it so quiet?
He looked toward the door, a hint of doubt rising in his heart.
By all rights, with how loudly he and Shuang Shenghua had been yelling during the duel, the hospital staff should have come running.
But the hallway was dead silent, not a single sound.
This was a central city hospital.
How could it be this quiet?
Where was everyone?
Li Guanqi stood up and walked to the door.
He peered through the glass.
The hallway was completely empty, dim lights flickering overhead.
He looked around.
Room 505’s facilities were extremely old.
The doors and windows were damaged.
Rather than a hospital room, it felt more like a haunted house where someone had died.
Even stranger, the computer in the room could download YGO.
That kind of thing shouldn’t be possible in a tightly managed hospital.
He furrowed his brow, unease rising strongly in his chest.
He had a creeping feeling————
Everything was planned from the start.
Li Guanqi turned to Shuang Shenghua lying on the bed and asked softly, “Did a doctor bring you to Room 505, or did you sneak in yourself?”
Shuang Shenghua visibly trembled, her movements becoming stiff.
She slowly rolled over, obediently sat up, and stammered, “I sneaked in myself.”
“You sneaked in.” Li Guanqi repeated unconsciously, his expression growing serious.
“Where are you from?”
“I’m from Bian———-” Shuang Shenghua had just started to speak when her eyes suddenly widened, as if she’d seen something terrifying.
Her gaze was locked behind Li Guanqi.
He whipped his head around———- but there was nothing there.
The half-closed iron door creaked in the wind though, as if something ghostly had just drifted in.
“I’m…” Shuang Shenghua paused, then said, “from Level 4 Fortress, Bianyuelong.”
“Level 4 Fortress?” Li Guanqi frowned, confused.
She had clearly started to say “Bian” earlier, likely intending to say “Bianyuelong”.
Why change it to include Level 4 Fortress?
And what was Level 4 Fortress supposed to mean?
“Bianyuelong” did sound vaguely familiar, probably some village in a remote mountainous area.
Li Guanqi let the matter drop and pulled out his phone to search <Bianyuelong>, and sure enough, a few results popped up.
They were forum posts from a few months ago, all related to Master Duels.
Some people complained about encountering “ghosts”, players they dueled who left no duel records and no rewards afterward.
All of the “ghosts” shared one thing in common: their ID prefixes all started with “Bianyuelong”.
Screenshots from the posts showed names like Bianyuelong – Jaden Binel and Bianyuelong – Jiangshu.
“G- Ghost?!” Li Guanqi’s body stiffened, and he involuntarily swallowed hard.
He turned to look at Shuang Shenghua and asked, his voice tinged with an abstract kind of confusion, “You said you’re from Bianyuelong?”
Shuang Shenghua snapped out of her daze and corrected him, “It’s Level 4 Fortress – Bianyuelong.”
She seemed to care a lot about that prefix, emphasizing it twice.
Li Guanqi frowned deeply, lost in thought.
During their duel just now, she had behaved pretty normally.
He had seen people with mental disorders before———- many, in fact.
Such individuals often suffer from severe depression and have difficulty with logic and comprehension.
But the woman in the red dress before him had sharp logic and coherent speech.
Sure, she had a touch of delusion, but for someone playing Yu-Gi-Oh!, that was almost normal.
In a community full of femme boys, dragons, waifus, shadow games, and theatrical expressions, a little delusion was practically par for the course.
His diagnosis of her had always been: a rebellious rich girl who ran away from home.
Until just now…
when he saw the look in her eyes.
That vacant, dazed expression———— like she was seeing something that didn’t exist———– was the kind of thing you couldn’t fake.
It only came with actual psychosis or hallucinations.
She saw something.
Something he couldn’t see.
Did she imagine herself from some ghostly land?
Or was “Bianyuelong” just some chuuni guild, all delusional together?
He’d seen plenty of weirdos before, but this was the first time he’d encountered one with a whole team and backstory.
Li Guanqi picked up the patient record sheet, regaining the calm and seriousness of a doctor.
He asked solemnly, “Do you have any family?”
Shuang Shenghua shook her head.
“I don’t have any family.”
“Then at least a teacher?”
“My teacher is a cat.”
“……..” Li Guanqi’s face darkened.
“A guardian then, someone who raised you?”
“Old Demon Bai.” she said softly.
“Well, at least you have a guardian.” Li Guanqi let out a small sigh of relief.
“What’s Old Demon Bai’s full name?
Do you have a way to contact him?”
“I can’t say his name.” Shuang Shenghua turned her head away.
“As for contacting him…”
“He ran off with Miss Lan.
I can’t reach him.”
Li Guanqi sighed heavily and gave up.
He felt a headache coming on, he really couldn’t handle this patient.
Doing his best to keep a gentle tone, he said, “I’ll find someone to help you.
Just don’t wander off.”
“No!” Shuang Shenghua’s reaction was instant and sharp, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, she pounced on him.
She clutched his arm tightly, her nails nearly digging into his flesh.
Her grip was terrifyingly strong, like a drowning person clinging to their last lifeline.
All her earlier tantrums, outbursts, and defiance vanished like smoke.
Right now, she was just a lost girl in a strange city, eyes full of helplessness and pleading.
“Don’t leave me…”
She muttered, her voice trembling, on the verge of tears.
“I’m not leaving you.” Li Guanqi sighed softly, trying to explain patiently, “I’m just an intern doctor.
I don’t have the authority to treat you alone.”
“I’ll help you contact a senior physician.
They’ll be able to provide more professional care———-”
“I don’t want that!” Shuang Shenghua suddenly interrupted him, shouting in panic, “I want you!”
“I…”
She looked around the room, her eyes filled with unease and confusion, her voice starting to tremble.
“Here…
you’re the only one I know.”
“Don’t leave…”
“Don’t abandon me again…”
She clung to the sleeve of his coat like a child, pleading as if terrified he’d vanish the next moment.
Li Guanqi was slightly stunned, his eyes falling on her.
He finally understood what her condition was.
She wasn’t crazy.
She was just lost.
And she’d mistaken him for the only family she had left.
A strange and indescribable feeling welled up in Li Guanqi’s chest.
As an intern doctor, he couldn’t say he was used to life and death, but this wasn’t the first time he’d seen eyes filled with that kind of desperate pleading.
Only this time, those eyes…
were fixed on him.
He was only supposed to stand aside and take notes.
But now, there was a girl who needed him.
Not a licensed doctor, not the director, not a nurse.
Just him————- Li Guanqi.
This strange doctor-patient attachment came from one thing: he was a Duelist.
He was her only “family”.
“Family…” Li Guanqi murmured the word to himself, lost in thought.
He, too, had no family.