Dr. Xu

I had stopped the carnage in the commercial district and fulfilled the evil spirit's errand. But I had come back to the loop's starting point. The countdown on the computer was still running. I still couldn't get to my family. The little life I had left would be ground away in this endless cycle. What was I supposed to do?

Then I thought of Dr. Xu. The last time I was caught in the loop, she was the one who pulled me out.

Again I ignored Manager Sun standing in front of me and left the office, making my way to Dr. Xu's clinic. The reception area was empty — not a soul there, only the back wall bearing "KANGPING PSYCHOLOGICAL CLINIC" in large characters, and that heart-shaped logo that made my skin crawl every time I saw it.

I went straight to Dr. Xu's consulting room and pushed the door open. The room seemed darker than I remembered.

Dr. Xu sat in her usual spot, back straight, hands folded on the desk. On the desk sat the computer and the dripping-water device from before, but it wasn't running — a single water droplet hung motionless from the outlet. She saw me come in and showed no surprise. She said quietly: "Sit down."

Like someone grabbing the last rope over an abyss, I sat and immediately poured out everything from the past few days in a jumble:

The half-bottle of water, Manager Sun, the countdown, the commercial district massacre, the endless loop—

I spoke fast. She only nodded lightly, tapping the keyboard briefly once in a while, as though listening to a story she already knew by heart.

When I finished, I caught my breath and looked at her.

"You pulled me out of the loop last time," I said, my voice unsteady. "This time — can you help me?"

Dr. Xu smiled. Her voice was soft as a feather: "Of course. We'll do it slowly."

She reached under the desk and produced a bottle of mineral water, holding it out to me. At the sight of the bottle I couldn't help flinching. That was the same bottle I had given to the attacker in the commercial district. No — wait. This bottle had originally come from Dr. Xu.

I ran through the timeline: last time I came to the clinic, Dr. Xu gave me a bottle of water. I didn't finish it and took it home, left it on the living room table. That morning, when I went to find the beggar, I picked it up. The beggar took a sip and became the evil spirit, then returned the bottle to me, and I gave it to the attacker in the shopping district.

Now Dr. Xu was handing me another bottle of mineral water, identical in appearance. Of course — both bottles had come from under Dr. Xu's desk; they would naturally be the same. What was I tense about?

I took the bottle and was about to drink when a slow set of footsteps came from outside the door. I noticed Dr. Xu's brow contract slightly, then smooth. Those footsteps unsettled me — they pulled me back from the moment of calm I'd just found. I was almost certain I had heard them before. That uneven, dragging rhythm — could it be the skeleton-in-skin?

Dr. Xu didn't react much. She paused briefly and said: "I've jotted down a quick summary of your situation. See if there's anything to add."

As she spoke, she turned the computer monitor toward me. I read the notes she had typed: the half-bottle of water, Manager Sun, the countdown—

Wait. Something was wrong. The time displayed in the lower-right corner of the screen:

37:19:11, 37:19:10, 37:19:09—

I was still trapped in the countdown?

The limping footsteps suddenly quickened, and with a crash the consulting-room door flew open. He was inside. His old voice sounded at my back: "Why did you stop it for him? Why did you let him go?" The skeleton-in-skin had appeared again.

In front of me, the gentleness drained from Dr. Xu's eyes. She rose and shouted at the figure in the doorway: "I'm in session. What are you doing here again? Go back to your—"

She didn't finish. The skeleton-in-skin was already at her side. He raised one hand and drew it across Dr. Xu's throat.

"Tssscht."

An impossibly quiet sound, like tearing paper.

A line of blood split open at Dr. Xu's throat and sprayed across my face. Her windpipe had been cut. The sound died instantly; only the gurgle of broken bubbles remained. Her body pitched forward and crashed onto the desk. Blood spattered across the monitor, dyeing the countdown a dark red.

I was rigid. The blood on my face was warm and sticky, like a layer of living skin.

I wanted to scream. My mouth wouldn't open.

I wanted to run. My legs were bolted to the floor.

The skeleton-in-skin turned slowly, didn't spare me a glance, and limped away. The door swung and shut by itself.

In the consulting room only I remained — and Dr. Xu's body. Her blood fell drop by drop onto the floor.

Drip — drop. Drip — drop.

Then the body shuddered. Dr. Xu's corpse began slowly to sit upright. Through the dishevelled hair, a bloodless face appeared. The mouth moved several times, and she began to speak — finishing the sentence she hadn't been able to finish in life, the voice at a pitch that wasn't right: "Go back where you belong! Do your work! Last two days! If you're not done, don't come home tonight!"

In the dizziness of shock, the blood, the clinic, the corpse, and the smell of blood all vanished at once.

I was back in the office, Manager Sun's scowling face in front of me, colleagues hammering keyboards all around, a mountain of expense reports on the desk, and the countdown in the lower-right corner still ticking: 35:59:50, 35:59:49—

If I didn't finish — would I really never get home?

I stared at the stack of papers. An absurd thought passed through me, absurd down to the bone:

Could it be that the end of all this

was for me to finish these expense reports?