Epi.8-2: The Visitor Who Met the Third Place Ghost

A certain man had watched Sayuri and Yuka’s stream.
He went alone at night to the abandoned clinic they had talked about.

For him, a local resident, the place was familiar.
But he had never heard anything about ghosts appearing there.
If anything, he had been surprised that such a story had surfaced at all.

And that was precisely why—it stayed on his mind.

He found himself wanting to check whether something was really there.

He had not gotten any permission, but it should be fine if he only took a quick look.
Telling himself that, he quietly pushed the door open.

Lighting the ground at his feet with his flashlight, he advanced with caution.
Ghosts would be frightening, but running into an intruder would be even worse.
In the tense air, only the sound of his own heartbeat echoed strangely loud.

He passed through the dim waiting room and headed for the examination room.

There, he found the examination table.
A worn piece of equipment, just as it had been described on the stream.

He gently brushed off the dust and sat down.
It was a narrow, cold space. He could sense no presence of anyone.
—At least, not for now.

He sat there for a while, but nothing happened.
If so, then—just as in the stream—he had no choice but to lie down.

He hesitated for a moment, then steeled himself and lay on the examination table.
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.
Waiting for his heartbeat to settle, he slowly opened his eyes.

A nurse in a white coat filled his field of vision.

Right in front of him, she was watching him with a worried look.
Her skin was pale enough to seem translucent, and her lips held no color.
She felt lacking in reality, yet she undeniably existed there.

His body froze. His throat tightened, and no voice came out.
His arms and legs felt heavy, leaving him unable to flee.

At that moment—a sharp pain shot through his abdomen.

He reflexively lowered his gaze, but he could see nothing in the darkness.
He only had one eerie certainty—that she was doing something.

Before he knew it, he was alone on the examination table.
No one was there. Yet the cold sweat and the tingling fear still remained.

When he stepped outside on unsteady feet, the sky was faintly bright.
Without realizing it, dawn had already broken.

(Was I really here all night...?)

With that lingering question caught in his chest, he hurried toward home.

The moment he lifted his shirt to take it off—he gasped.

Across his abdomen ran multiple red-black lines.
As if it had been cut open again and again—countless surgical scars were carved into his flesh.

—A hospital? An exorcism?

What should I do?
He could find no answer anywhere.

Confused, he could do nothing but stand there in place.