Revenge Sign-in System

The Mental Asylum & The Hidden Truths

Gerard is not alone in his suffering. Others trapped in this institution see what he sees, but they think they are insane. And in the shadows, his enemies still plot his demise. But now, he is listening.

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A Prison Disguised as a Hospital

The days in the mental institution passed slowly, deliberately, like a thick fog pressing down on the mind.

The walls were white, yet they felt gray, lifeless, suffocating. The overhead lights flickered at odd intervals, the hum of medical equipment blending with the occasional whispers of the patients around him.

Most of them muttered to themselves. Some wept in corners. Others simply stared at the air in front of them.

But now that Gerard had time to observe, he saw the truth.

They weren't just staring at nothing.

They were staring at blue floating screens—just like him.

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The Truth of the "Mad" Patients

It started with the man across from him.

A thin, hollow-eyed patient, probably in his mid-forties, sat on the floor, gaze unfocused, fingers twitching.

His lips moved constantly, whispering under his breath.

Gerard focused.

At first, it seemed like madness. But when he listened closely, he recognized a pattern.

"Sign in… complete… next mission… unclear… penalties… voices won't stop… can't make them stop… system keeps talking… please, I don't want this anymore…"

A system.

Just like his.

The man's hands trembled as he reached out toward nothing, trying to touch something only he could see.

A nurse passed by and sighed.

"More of his usual nonsense."

"Keeps saying someone's talking to him."

"Poor bastard's too far gone."

Gerard kept his expression calm, but inside, his mind raced.

"So that's it… These people aren't crazy. They have systems too."

But why?

Why were only some people given a system?

Why were they trapped in here, abandoned?

The answer hit him like a bullet to the chest.

They couldn't understand the system.

He glanced back at the floating blue screen, watching as the text shifted between different languages.

English.

Arabic.

French.

Russian.

But never Chinese.

"The system wasn't designed for them."

These people—these forgotten, broken souls—had been given a system they couldn't read, couldn't understand.

And because they spoke about it, because they asked for help, they were locked away.

For the first time since waking in this body, Gerard felt something close to horror.

"How many of them were thrown in places like this, ignored, abandoned, treated like lunatics? Just because they saw what no one else could?"

He clenched his fists under the thin hospital blanket.

That wouldn't happen to him.

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Overhearing the Plan to Kill Him—Again

It happened on the third night.

Gerard was supposed to be asleep.

Instead, he lay still, keeping his breathing deep and slow, training his ears to every sound outside his room.

Then, he heard them.

A low voice. His stepmother.

"It should have been finished by now."

Another voice—the doctor.

"I don't know how he survived the first dose. It was meant to be lethal. His body should have shut down completely."

"And yet, he's still here."

Gerard kept his expression blank, but inside, his blood boiled.

They weren't even trying to pretend anymore.

His stepmother's voice was sharper now, frustrated.

"You assured me he would be dead. That the inheritance would be secure."

"Now the media is watching. If he dies suddenly, there will be questions."

"I want this fixed. Quietly."

The doctor exhaled.

"We can arrange an accident."

"A sudden cardiac failure—easily blamed on his 'suicidal tendencies.'"

"Or an 'incident' in the common ward. It happens all the time with unstable patients."

His stepmother's heels clicked against the tile floor as she walked away.

"Do it."

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The System Reacts—A New Mission

As soon as they were gone, his blue screen flickered to life.

[Mission Update: Survive the next attempt on your life.]

[Bonus Reward: If you eliminate the ones responsible, additional rewards will be granted.]

Gerard exhaled slowly. Controlled. Focused.

"So they want me dead again."

But this time, he was ready.

His eyes flickered toward the shadows of the common ward, where madmen stared at their unseen screens, muttering to themselves.

His stepmother thought this place had broken him.

She had no idea she had placed him in a den of lost souls, abandoned soldiers of a war they never understood.

She had no idea that he was about to turn this asylum into a battleground.

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