Among the six patient rooms, only the door to the first would open.
Was it simply that only this one had been designed to open—or was it, like that door he had spent five years knocking on, merely the limit of his current strength that allowed entry?
For five long years, Lin Qiye had knocked on that unyielding door. Only upon awakening, with his heightened spiritual perception, did it finally give way, allowing him into the asylum.
Then what of the second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth rooms? Would they, too, require a corresponding growth in his strength to be unlocked?
Lin Qiye couldn't be certain. But right now, he had no time to dwell on the matter.
Before him, the door—once tightly sealed by layers of arcane sigils—was slowly creaking open.
The room within was neither large nor well-lit. In its center stood a lone chair, and upon it sat a woman dressed in a gown of starlit obsidian, staring blankly into the void.
There was nothing else in that shadowed chamber. No sound. No presence. Just the woman, and the chair beneath her.
Lin Qiye approached cautiously, pausing at the threshold. He hesitated for a moment, then composed his features into the most diplomatic smile he could muster, and gave a small wave.
"Hello, I'm Lin Qiye."
Regardless of who—or what—she was, it didn't hurt to be polite. As the saying went, one doesn't strike a smiling face. Even a god, perhaps, would show restraint in the face of courtesy.
But his grin froze awkwardly as the black-clad woman remained motionless, like a sculpture carved from obsidian.
Gritting his teeth, Lin Qiye stepped into the room.
The moment he crossed the threshold, glowing letters began to bloom across the wall behind the woman.
Room No. 1
Patient: Nyx
Objective: Aid Nyx in treating her mental illness. Upon reaching treatment thresholds (1%, 50%, 100%), a portion of Nyx's abilities may be randomly drawn.
Current progress: 0%
"Nyx?" Lin Qiye gasped, eyes wide as he took in the name etched into the wall.
Though he was no scholar of mythology, he had heard of Nyx—the primordial goddess of night, one of the five original deities of Greek myth.
A being that stood at the apex of divine hierarchy.
Was this dazed, silent woman before him truly that Nyx?
Her aura was chillingly aloof, exuding a regal elegance. Her features were flawless, her midnight hair cascading like a waterfall, and her dress—woven with stardust—was as fathomless as the night itself, accentuating the alabaster of her skin to an ethereal sheen.
Though her eyes were vacant, the air around her pulsed with a grandeur that no mortal could ever emulate.
Even the empresses of history would pale beside her.
Nyx. A deity. A queen.
Sovereign of the night.
Lin Qiye stroked his chin as he studied her more closely. He had seen a god with his own eyes before. Compared to the seraph who stood upon the moon, something about Nyx felt... incomplete.
Divinity? Power? Authority?
Perhaps all three were diminished.
He couldn't say for sure—but whatever had hollowed her, it was likely bound to her illness.
But how could this be? She was a god. A true god.
How could she fall ill?
Was her madness born of nature—or was it inflicted?
Lin Qiye found it hard to believe such a being would succumb to mere cosmic fate. But if this was done by someone...
What kind of existence could drive the Goddess of Night into madness?
And not just any madness—a mental illness.
If the writing on the wall spoke truth, Lin Qiye was now tasked with treating her. But what exactly was her ailment?
As someone who had once been institutionalized himself, he knew a bit about mental disorders—depression, OCD, schizophrenia, paranoia…
The first step was to diagnose her condition.
He crouched before Nyx, waving a hand in front of her vacant eyes.
"Can you hear me?" he asked softly at her ear.
Suddenly, she trembled.
Startled, Lin Qiye stumbled back a few paces.
Then, ever so slowly, her head creaked toward him, her empty gaze locking onto his.
Lin Qiye froze. Not daring to move.
One second. Two. Three…
Just as his scalp began to tingle under her unblinking stare, her eyes shifted.
Vacancy gave way to confusion.
Confusion turned to astonishment.
Astonishment melted into tears.
Her body quivered. Tears welled in her eyes. Her lips parted—
Choked silence gave way to a hoarse, fragile voice:
"I've finally found you… my child!"
In that moment, it was as though lightning struck Lin Qiye's brain. He stood stunned, thoughts scattering into static.
Her?
Me?
Child?
What…?
He truly had no memory of his parents' faces. They had disappeared shortly after entrusting him to his aunt. But even so…
He was fairly certain—no, almost certain—that his mother had been human.
Not the Goddess of the Night.
Wait—hold on. How was this Greek goddess speaking fluent Chinese?
Oh. Right. This is a dream. He could understand divine speech. Neural resonance, perhaps?
While his thoughts spiraled, Nyx suddenly rose, arms outstretched, and stumbled toward him with unsteady steps.
Faster and faster she came, her expression increasingly fervent.
Lin Qiye's mind was a haze. Reflexively, he opened his arms, ready to catch the goddess's embrace.
But—
She rushed past him.
And threw herself, not at him, but at…
A small flower vase perched on the windowsill.
Clutching it tightly, she wept as though her soul would shatter. "My child… You're alive! I've found you at last!"
Lin Qiye: …???
Then her gaze shifted—to the chair she had sat in for who knows how long.
After a pause, she lunged forward, cradling both vase and chair, sobbing anew.
"Hypnos! My child, you're here too!"
Lin Qiye stood motionless, like a statue carved in confusion, watching as Nyx proceeded to claim the vase, the chair, the wall, and the very air as her long-lost children—wailing uncontrollably.
Lin Qiye: I think… I've got a pretty good idea what her illness is.
And it's… not mild.
By morning, Lin Qiye awoke slowly, staring up at the bare ceiling with a heavy sigh.
After a night with Nyx, he felt like a part of his soul had withered.
As he sat up, a surprised sound escaped his lips.
Within his mind, the fog-shrouded asylum of the gods floated into focus. Somehow, he had formed a direct link to it.
Now, even without dreaming, he could project his consciousness into the asylum at will.
A perk of unlocking the first door, perhaps…
He tested the connection and was immediately aware of the asylum's inner happenings.
The five sealed rooms remained shrouded and inaccessible.
As for Nyx—she was in the courtyard, cradling the vase and chair once more, murmuring to the empty air beside her.
Lin Qiye rubbed his eyes, sighing gloomily.
"Treat her… treat her… I'm no doctor. How the hell am I supposed to help her?"
Suddenly, his eyes lit up—as though an idea had struck him like lightning.
Narrowing his gaze, the corners of his mouth curled into a sly smile.