Every city has a few streets that people rarely walk down. Just like this one. It curls up beside 22nd Street, with no signs, no lampposts, no name, and not even a sewer at the entrance, as if a wall was being built from both ends but ran out of bricks before they could meet, irresponsibly leaving a gap so small that you might miss it with just a sneeze. 

Similarly, the facilities on this street match its peculiarities. There’s a streetlight that’s been broken for ten years with no one to fix it, two overflowing trash cans, a few stray cats that frequent the area, an endless swarm of flies, and a small private hospital. 

To be honest, this little building can hardly be called a hospital; it’s not even a clinic. It has only two stories and looks more like a Gothic photo studio or a pawn shop left over from decades ago, but somehow it was bought by someone and a sign reading "HOSPITAL" was hung up. 

...

At three in the morning, Dr. Zi Liang stood in front of the sink, washing his hands with cold water. He hated all holidays; he didn’t understand why people had to pick a few days each year to do silly things while pretending they were significant. Just like this Halloween, everyone was out on the streets wearing skulls, carrying pumpkin lanterns, and making meaningless cheers. 

Those teenagers were slamming on their neighbors' doors, all for a few pieces of candy. Everyone knew they hardly ate candy throughout the year; they’d rather smoke pot. 

Fortunately, they didn’t come to knock on the hospital’s door; otherwise, Zi Liang wasn’t sure he wouldn’t stab them in the eye with a syringe. After turning off the faucet, Zi Liang hastily wiped his hands on his lab coat, drying off the water stains. He looked up, and the mirror reflected a gaunt face. 

His messy hair, pale skin that looked like he was suffering from kidney deficiency, and despite being only in his twenties, the stubble made him look more like someone in their thirties, with dark circles under his eyes from long-term insomnia... 

Yeah... another sleepless night. 

Those damn residents outside were still making noise until midnight before finally going to bed, and just when it quieted down for half an hour, the annoying sound of police sirens began to fill the street, growing increasingly frequent, and hadn’t stopped even at this moment. 

No need to think; it was surely some criminal escaping from prison. That person probably thought that today, wearing a prison uniform in the street wouldn’t seem out of place. 

Another series of vehicles passed by, police lights flashing into the small doctor’s office, casting red and blue shadows on the walls. 

Zi Liang walked to the window and quietly pulled out a cigarette. 

For some reason, he didn’t turn on the light, so a crimson glow ignited in the darkness. The smoke blurred his face, and Zi Liang helplessly realized that in a few hours, it would be dawn. 

So, he stood there in the darkness, smoking lightly, listening to the calls of stray cats, watching the police cars flash by outside. 

“Fuck Halloween.” 

“Fuck the police cars.” 

“Fuck Gotham...” 

...

The long night finally passed, and on the first day of November, the sky generously poured down a drizzle of rain. The sound of raindrops hitting the glass mixed with the rising noise coming through the window, filling Zi Liang's ears. 

The streets of this city resembled a blood vessel leading to a dying heart, still in a state of arteriosclerosis. But that was fine, because in such weather, no one should come to visit this inconspicuous hospital... 

So, Zi Liang leaned back in his chair, trying to see if he could find some sleep amid the noise. 

However, just then, the sound of a door opening completely shattered his plans. 

“Ugh, it must be those young guys who woke up early and found their lower bodies in pain,” Zi Liang thought. 

According to an unbelievable statistic, the days before and after any holiday are peak times for the transmission of diseases like gonorrhea, syphilis, and AIDS, as if today’s youth think that hooking up during holidays makes it seem more sacred than usual; they don’t even spare Qingming Festival. 

But... to Zi Liang's surprise, the person who walked into his office was a police officer, and he didn’t seem like he was there to seek medical attention. 

“Hello?” Zi Liang asked. 

“Hello.” The police officer replied, hesitating for a moment before pointing outside the door: “Uh... you might not have noticed, but those bags of trash you piled at the entrance are starting to smell.” 

“Ah?” Zi Liang squinted, giving an incredulous tone, because he didn’t think this person came in just to tell him to throw out the garbage. 

The officer shrugged... 

“Okay, I just wanted to remind you.” He said, then handed over a notice with a portrait printed on it: “Actually, I came to inform you that a criminal escaped from Arkham Asylum last night. You should be careful.” 

Zi Liang took the notice and looked at it; it depicted a man with a fierce expression, a neck that looked like it had some thyroid issue, thick as a jawline, not swollen but muscular, dressed in prison clothes, with a shocking scar running diagonally from his forehead down to his chin. The stitching was clearly not done well, and the needle marks made it look like a giant centipede was crawling under his skin. 

“Oh, thanks.” Zi Liang muttered, setting the notice aside. 

“Hey, I’m telling you, doctor, don’t take this lightly. This guy isn’t just any criminal; he’s a lunatic...” 

“Lunatic?” Zi Liang asked lightly. 

“Yeah, he’s the kind of psycho who runs around with a chainsaw, cutting people up.” The officer said, mimicking the motion of wielding a chainsaw: “A complete madman with no humanity, so I hope you finish business by 3 PM this week. This is no joke.” 

Zi Liang frowned: “It’s not as terrifying as you say.” 

The officer was taken aback: “What do you mean?” 

“I mean when I saw him last night, I thought he was quite cute.” Zi Liang muttered, then lit a cigarette, taking a weak puff.