Soul Hunting

I stood in front of the gate of Oak Academy, my brows furrowed tightly.

In the eyes of ordinary people, this should be a modern teaching building, with its glass curtain walls glinting coldly in the afternoon sun. But in my field of vision, a Victorian - era psychiatric hospital was overlapping with the modern building. The ancient red - brick exterior and Gothic spires had a semi - transparent, illusory look in the sunlight. Two buildings from completely different eras perfectly occupied the same space, like two photos that were seeping into each other.

Is it a time - space overlap, or a crack in reality? I analyzed silently in my mind. The idea of resigning was temporarily put aside. The abnormal sight that defied common sense had aroused my desire to explore. After experiencing so many Specters in the city, an anomaly of this degree actually made me feel a sense of familiarity.

"Foster, what are you standing there daydreaming about?" The voice of Carl, the security guard, came from the booth. "Harrison has been looking for you everywhere. Aren't you going in?"

I turned my head and took a look at Carl. In his eyes, I probably just looked like a weirdo staring blankly at the air. But at this moment, my attention was completely drawn to the anomaly in front of me: when I tried to approach the hospital gate, the air suddenly became viscous, as if I was pushing through an invisible, gelatinous barrier.

"Going in right away," I replied briefly, while carefully pressing my palm against the barrier. A strange energy flowed over the surface of my skin. It was neither the tingling of an electric current nor the suction of a magnetic field, but something more primitive and chaotic.

This was not a phenomenon that an ordinary Specter could create. Those lower - level Specters wandering in the city could at most create visual scares, and although higher - level Specters were more intelligent, the scope of their abilities was limited to small - scale physical interference. But the space - overlap phenomenon in front of me hinted at the existence of some much more powerful supernatural force.

I took a deep breath and adjusted my mindset in the way I had long since become proficient at: remaining vigilant but not showing nervousness, and pushing open the glass door like an ordinary office worker. The moment I crossed the threshold, the scenes of the two worlds intertwined in my vision: the modern reception area overlapped with the Victorian - era hospital lobby. The light from the LED display penetrated the ancient brass chandelier, and beneath the brand - new marble floor, old - fashioned floor tiles with bloodstains were faintly visible.

As I explored deeper along the corridor, the sense of space overlap became more and more obvious. Signage for modern office areas was interspersed with nameplates for old - fashioned hospital wards. Fire - proof doors overlapped with iron - barred gates. A strange smell filled the air. The cold air from the modern air - conditioner was mixed with the smell of old - fashioned hospital disinfectant, and there was also a faint, barely - perceptible smell of rust.

When I turned the corner of the corridor, the appearance of the hospital began to dominate. The iron - decorated corridor extended forward, with old - fashioned wooden benches scattered on both sides. The mottled bloodstains on the walls were a strange dark - red color, like some kind of secretion left by a living creature, glistening sickly in the sunlight.

The door of Ward 104 was different. It was a dark - red metal door, with some ancient runes carved on the door frame. Through the rusty observation window, I saw a little girl in an old - fashioned hospital gown huddled in the corner of an iron bed. There was a blood - stained restraint strap tied around her wrist, but the most eye - catching thing was her face without any facial features at all - like a blank piece of paper, yet always "staring" in the direction of the door.

A perfectly disguised high - level Specter, I judged in my mind. That little girl seemed harmless, but I had seen too many similar disguises. The Wife had taught me that in this world, the more harmless an appearance seemed, the more dangerous the essence was likely to be hidden beneath it.

Moving forward, more wards came into view. Behind each door was a different type of Specter locked up: some were screaming continuously, some were crawling on the walls, and some were maintaining an eerie silence. But the most eye - catching were three special wards: Wards 162, 169, and 177. The door locks of these three wards had been violently broken, and the rooms were empty, leaving only shocking marks on the walls and the floor.

In the doctors' office area, the overlap of the two time - spaces reached a new level. A laptop was placed on a modern office desk, but in the reflection of the screen were Victorian - era surgical instruments. In the filing cabinet, brand - new enrollment brochures were mixed with yellowed medical records.

My attention was attracted by a special document. It was a record of Subject 128. The paper was already yellowed, but the handwriting on it was still clear:

"Transformation progress of Subject 128: 21.64%

*Observation record on the 47th day: The subject shows obvious morphological variation, and the skin has started to become semi - transparent. The most significant progress is the transformation of consciousness - he has started to be able to see things that he shouldn't be able to see. However, this ability seems to be destroying his sanity. *

Suggestion: Continue to advance the experiment, but enhanced restraint measures are required."

Just as I was focused on reading, a sudden chill hit me from above. I slowly looked up and saw a Specter dressed in Victorian - era doctor's clothing hanging upside - down on the dome. Its limbs were in a spider - like deformed state, and it was holding a rusty scalpel in its hand. Its pitch - black eye sockets were staring straight at me.

We confronted each other in silence. This doctor - shaped Specter was clearly of a high - level. Its way of existence was more similar to that of The Wife, with a certain twisted rationality. It didn't launch an immediate attack but maintained an observing posture, like a doctor studying a special case.

Finally, I reached the administrative office area. The space overlap here was the most complete. An old - fashioned inkwell was placed on a modern office desk, and in the reflection of the computer monitor, Victorian - era portraits could be seen. This was also the place where I worked at Oak Academy. The familiar sales department logo was eerily integrated with the nameplate of the psychiatric hospital.

Standing at this intersection of time and space, I began to piece together the clues. St. John's Psychiatric Hospital was clearly not just an ordinary psychiatric hospital. It was likely one of the earliest research bases for Specters. Those experimental records hinted at a terrifying truth: experiments to transform humans into Specters had been carried out here. And the three empty wards meant that some of the experimental subjects had successfully escaped.

Perhaps this is the beginning of everything, I thought. Perhaps some of the Specters wandering in the city now originated from here.

More importantly, the way this building overlapped with the current Oak Academy was too perfect to be a coincidence. This hinted at a larger plan, a conspiracy that might have been in operation since a century ago. And could the existence of the FBI's Supernatural Investigation Department also have some historical connection with this place?

My train of thought was interrupted by the vibration of my phone. It was a text message from Kevin Parker: "Where are you? Don't you want your salary? Show up in front of me right now, or you won't get a single cent of this month's pay."

Putting away my phone, I took one last look around this distorted space. The doctor Specter was still hanging upside - down on the dome, the faceless little girl was still "staring" at the corridor in Ward 104, and more secrets were hidden deep within this building, waiting to be uncovered.