⚜️Game of the Beast⚜️
"I'm on the threshold of something new…" I exhale, gripping the cold gate handle.
I cross the boundary, entering the inner courtyard of St. Anna Benedictine Psychiatric Hospital – a sanctuary for particularly dangerous patients. Those whom even prison couldn't hold. Their darkness now resides here, between these walls.
I walk along a narrow path, strewn with damp pebbles. Inside, a restless tremor, like a coiled spring. Is it fear? Or perhaps, excitement?
I walk slowly. I inhale deeply – the damp air smells of rain, flowers, and old trees. There's something wild, primal about it. I look around – it's quiet. Too quiet.
The trees are well-tended. Neat flowerbeds are scattered across the courtyard. The flowers are simple, like wildflowers, but in this simplicity, there's something touching. Something real.
Nothing in this cozy garden hints at what the building it adjoins conceals within.
The same silence prevails inside this old institution. Not at all what I expected from a psychiatric hospital.
The smell of chlorine mixed with dampness and mold hits my nose. I hope I'll get used to it.
The dim light in the corridor further deepens the oppressive atmosphere – something dark, stagnant, hidden… As if time has stopped here, and life itself has frozen.
Only the reception desk area is brighter. Like a small beacon of hope.
"Good morning! I'm Doh Mina, the new nurse," I greet the woman at the counter, a little uncertainly. "Here's my referral."
Instead of a greeting, she merely nods – silently, with an expression that says more than it should. Taking the slightly crumpled sheet from my hands, she quickly glances through it.
"Oh, so you're the one hired to supervise our most interesting cases," a faint, almost predatory smile flickered across her tired face. "So, Choi San and Song Mingi… Let's go. I'll introduce you to the chief physician, show you the staff room, and then… you'll meet them."
There's something both sinister and alluring about this place.
In the way the staff approaches their work.
In the way the most dangerous patients are called "the most interesting."
At the end of the corridor were two doors: one to the chief physician's office, the other to the staff room.
Meeting the team went better than I expected.
In the room where the daily briefing was held, nurses, male nurses, and orderlies were animatedly discussing something. As soon as we crossed the threshold, a dozen pairs of eyes turned to us. After a brief pause – like a wave of warmth – smiles spread across their faces.
The staff room turned out to be unexpectedly cozy: a small kitchen, comfortable sofas, a wardrobe for belongings, bookshelves – everything created a sense of security. One of the nurses placed a vase of flowers on the table, and a fresh scent filled the air, as if dispelling the tension that hung in the hospital walls.
A few minutes later, the chief physician joined us – a tall man around fifty-six, with graying temples and a clean-shaven face on which a restrained smile played. He confidently approached us and extended his hand:
"Doh Mina? Nice to meet you. I'm Kim Jongdae, the chief physician."
I politely bowed and shook his hand.
The introduction turned into a fifteen-minute briefing. Dr. Kim wished everyone a good day and added the traditional phrase before the start of the shift:
"Remember, let their darkness not overshadow you."
"Come, Mina. Now I'll show you where your charges ‘live’ – Choi San and Song Mingi," called out the nurse who had met me at the reception desk. Her name was Park Hyerin. She no longer seemed as unfriendly as during our first encounter.
I nodded, and we walked out into the corridor.
"Hey, where are you going?" a male voice suddenly rang out behind us. We immediately turned around.
Before us stood Jong Yunho – a graduate orderly, a tall guy around twenty, with an open smile that made him look like a puppy.
"I'll go with you! I promise not to get in the way," he said enthusiastically.
"Alright," Hyerin replied curtly.
Yunho shuffled along behind us, like a large, gentle Labrador. However, he broke his promise not to interfere just a few steps later – he showered us with comments and tried to make jokes continuously. Hyerin just silently rolled her eyes.
A few meters ahead, the corridor ended in a row of heavy metal doors with bars and electronic locks.
"We're entering the area for particularly dangerous patients," Hyerin said quietly.
"I will lead you through these gates…" Yunho added in a theatrical tone, trying to sound ominous. He busily pressed codes on the lock panels.
Once inside, we found ourselves in a long, empty corridor. On either side were locked doors, above which hung numbered room signs. On each door – names.
"Don't be afraid, Mina, they're all locked," Yunho said with a wide smile, gently nudging my shoulder.
We walked slowly down the long corridor, and Hyerin pointed to the room doors one by one, briefly describing their occupants. Through the transparent bulletproof windows in the doors, we could see some of them. Most lay on their beds, weakened by strong sedatives. Some were tied down with leather straps. Others sat or stood silently, not at all resembling dangerous patients. For a moment, it seemed like an ordinary medical ward. But that feeling quickly faded.
We walked a little further and stopped at a door opposite a large barred window. This door looked more massive than the others, as if it held something particularly dangerous behind it.
"Choi San," Hyerin grumbled grimly. "Narcissistic, sadistic, obsessive with fixations, domineering. A known stalker. He was apprehended after a series of attempts on women's lives…"
She paused. For a few seconds, a heavy silence fell in the corridor.
I took a step forward and peered into the observation window. Empty.
"Oh, he's hiding," Yunho commented with a smile. "You won't see him like that. This guy likes to play games with the staff before breakfast."
In the corridor leading around the corner, approaching sounds were heard. The monotonous hum of wheels – a kitchen worker was pushing a food cart. Two burly orderlies followed silently behind him. It was breakfast time.
Suddenly – a sharp, piercing alarm signal cut through the air. A short click echoed in the electrical system, the lights flickered, and the automatic doors at the end of the corridor spontaneously opened.
"Something's wrong," Hyerin stopped, listening intently.
And then a scream. Sharp. Panicked. Then – a second one. One of the orderlies runs out from around the corner, covered in blood, clutching his side.
"He broke free! Mingi broke free!" he chokes out, screaming.
Everything happened in an instant. Screams. The thud of heavy bodies. About five employees tried to stop him, but he moved with inhuman strength – like a shadow, weightless yet leaving a trail of evil.
I only managed to see the face of another orderly whom Mingi threw against the wall with such force that he lost consciousness.
"Fall back! Back!" Hyerin screams, grabbing my hand and pulling me in the opposite direction.
I looked back. For a moment, our eyes met:
Mingi, covered in blood, with a wild but not chaotic expression on his face, looked directly at me.
There was no madness in that gaze. Only… determination. Calm, icy determination.
The doors behind us should have closed by now…
A second before they clicked shut, I looked back once more. And saw him disappear into the darkness, leaving only screams and chaos behind.
The siren doesn't subside, its wail merging with the screams in the corridor. Patients, agitated by the noise, pound on the doors, some shriek, others monotonously repeat the same phrases.
My heart pounds in my chest. Run – just run.
If only I remembered the building's layout… It's my first day. Where to go? Which exit?
Corridors… corridors again… a turn, another one. I must have gotten lost.
The situation is similar to a riot in a women's correctional facility where I once worked as a guard. Only then, I had a weapon…
A ringing in my head. Everything looks the same: barred windows, numbered doors, identical gray walls. In a panic, I turn left, run past two cells, and…
One of the heavy doors is ajar. Halfway.
Due to the dim lighting, I can't see if it's a staff office or someone's room. Only a metal plaque hangs broken on one bolt. I don't have time to read the name.
The automatic system malfunctioned. Just before that, a short circuit in the technical block overloaded the backup power line, and one of the cells – ironically, the one where Choi San was – went out of the locking system's control. This shouldn't have happened. But it did.
I run inside, hoping to find an exit. Or at least to hide…
Choi San sat on the bed, his eyes fixed on me with an intense, inscrutable gaze.
He didn't move. And he didn't say a word.
Silence hung in the air – heavy, suffocating, as if it had its own weight. It seemed to press on my shoulders, squeezing my throat. The tension in the room grew with each second of his silence.
Click.
The door treacherously closed behind me. The automatic system resumed operation – too late.
I spun around abruptly. The door wouldn't open. There was no window in the room.
"Well, well, well…" a quiet voice said.
I turned sharply to the sound.
He was still sitting. My eyes widened in surprise. This is the first time I've seen him with my own eyes. And – it's not at all what I expected.
Despite the rumors, his name, the whispers of "monster"… he doesn't look devilish.
He looks… angelic.
A pure, almost ethereal face, dark hair softly framing features one would call "beautiful" – even "perfect."
If I didn't know what he had done – I would never believe this creature could be here, in a psychiatric hospital.
Goosebumps ran down my skin.
San slowly rose. His movements – too fluid, too controlled, like a dancer's, or a predator's.
He took a step… then another.
Every move of his seemed premeditated.
His angelic face was inscrutable, cold – without the slightest hint of emotion or warmth.
The room grew smaller with each of his steps. The air – thicker.
"New nurse…" he whispered.
His voice…
Gentle. Too gentle.
As if he hadn't spoken the words, but touched my ear with them.
I lift my chin slightly. My eyes carefully track his every movement and don't leave him. My movements are calm and cautious.
"Yes, that's me, Doh Mina," my voice is quiet but firm.
Around us, silence, broken only by the faint hum of a fan and the quiet whir of the air conditioner in the room. The feeling of tension in this sudden isolation doesn't subside.
His eyes briefly drop to my lips as I speak. He understands how small I am compared to him. He easily towers over me.
"How old are you, Do Mina?" his voice remains soft and almost innocent. He could easily pass for a sweet, harmless man if I didn't know his history.
"Just right for this job," I pause for a moment, peering into his expression.
"I'm 28."
His lips curve slightly into a smile, yet it doesn't reach his eyes. They remain tense and vigilant.
"Twenty-eight…" now he moves even closer, invading my personal space.
"You look younger. Much younger…" his voice drops almost to a whisper, sounding threatening.
"I know." My posture is calm, without the slightest tension, but I don't retreat.
Something flickers in his eyes – like a spark – when he realizes I haven't taken my gaze off him. My directness seems to disorient him somewhat. He's used to people being nervous or afraid around him, but I stand confidently.
"How long have you been a nurse?" His face is now inches from mine; he's deliberately testing the boundaries.
"A few months," my voice is calm and even, I don't take my eyes off him, carefully tracking every movement.
Interest appears in his gaze.
"A new nurse – and you're already assigned here?" His hand slowly rises, fingers gently touching my cheek. The touch is unexpectedly gentle.
"You must be very capable…" his thumb gently strokes my skin.
I pause before answering.
"I worked as a warden in a women's pricon – for lifers and particularly dangerous inmates."
His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't pull away. His touch doesn't disappear – on the contrary, instead, his thumb continues to stroke my cheek gently.
"Impressive…" he leans in even closer, his lips almost brushing my ear as he whispers:
"...but do you know who I am?"
"I know who you are. I was sent here specifically because of you. And another – the one who recently injured the nurses," my voice drops lower, becoming quieter.
He laughs softly right beside my ear – the sound sends shivers down my spine.
"Good girl for knowing your patient..." he whispers. Then he leans back slightly to look into my eyes. His gaze gleams dangerously. "And what makes you think I won't hurt you?"
"Nothing."
His smile widens, momentarily revealing a hint of predatory nature. He likes your confidence. He likes that you're not afraid of him. He slowly reaches out with his other hand and lightly touches your side.
"Heard what they say about me?" His voice is low, seductive.
"Narcissist. Sadist. Obsessed. Stalker…" the corner of my lips barely lifts. "But you're exaggerating your 'feats' a little."
He bursts into laughter – genuine, deep, so sincere that it's more frightening than a threat. His hand on my waist tightens a little more.
"Exaggerating?…" He leans closer, his lips almost touching mine. "You're the first person to speak to me like that…"
"Disappointed?"
His laughter fades into a smirk. He leans back slightly to catch my gaze again.
"Disappointed? No." His thumb gently traces along my jawline. "Rather, intrigued…" a short pause. "…and, perhaps, even impressed."
"Oh, is that so?" I slowly wrap my hand around his wrist near my face.
He glances down at my hand, then back up at my eyes. His gaze deepens, darkens. He leans in closer, his face inches from mine.
"Yes, that's so." His voice is a low growl now, full of unspoken threats and promises.
Without warning, he closes the distance between us and presses his lips firmly against mine. It's a demanding kiss, filled with all the dark intensity he's been holding back. His free hand moves to the back of my neck, holding me in place as he explores my mouth with his tongue. "Mmph..."
I accept. Because in this game, it's not the weakest who survives, but the one who knows how to play.
The kiss deepens. His fingers clench tighter, asserting dominance. He barely pulls away, whispering on my lips:
"You taste like a threat."
His thumb gently strokes my cheek as he continues to kiss me, his other hand still firmly on my waist.
I lift my hand and grip his throat – tight enough it could to left bruises.
"You have no idea how right you are," I whisper and rip a kiss from him with such intensity, as if I want to tear control away, while my grip on his throat even tightened.
He groans into the kiss – low, hoarse, a hungry sound. He doesn't try to break my grip on his throat. On the contrary – he presses himself harder against me, pulls me close as if wanting to melt me into himself. His hand slides lower, squeezing my thighs.
"Do it…" he rasps.
My kiss becomes harsher, bordering on pain. I wrap my leg around his thigh, not releasing his throat. His desire is already flaring – I see it. I feel it.
He kissing back just as hard, almost violent. He moans low, his voice slightly hoarse from my tight grip on his throat. He nips at my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. I catch the moment when his mind began to cloud by arousal, drops his guard, and then…
…then everything changes.
My body moves like lightning; I'm behind him, locking him in a hold. In my hand – a syringe. The needle enters precisely. The tranquilizer acts instantly.
"Enough games," I softly murmur into his ear.
His body goes rigid instantly as the tranquilizer hits his system. He tries to struggle briefly, but my headlock is too tight and the drug is too strong. His arms flail weakly before going limp entirely. Blood trickles down from where he bit votre lip earlier.
I pulled him onto the bed and laid him on his back. He's still conscious. His eyes search for me. I sit next to him – too close. Close enough for him to feel the warmth of my thighs against his. I unbutton his shirt, revealing his beautifully toned body – perfect, almost marble. I pull out a folding knife, opening it with a click. I run the blade over his body – cold, unhurried, playing.
"You know the only difference between us?" I smile, licking my blood-covered lips. "You're locked in a hospital. And I'm free."
His eyes, heavy with the effects of the tranquilizer, flicker with a mix of anger and arousal as he watches that the knife trails across his skin sends shivers through him even though he tries fighting unconsciousness. My thighs pressed against his waist make his mind go dirty places. He tries to speak but manages only a hoarse whisper:
"You… you're psycho…"
I lean closer, smiling quietly, almost tenderly:
"Just like you, love… just like you."
His eyelids grow heavier by the second, the tranquilizer fully taking effect now. He can feel the cold metal of the knife and the warmth of my thighs pressing against him intensely contrasting sensations. A weak smirk forms on his lips despite himself.
"...Fuck you..." he slurs incoherently.
I chuckle. Quietly, contentedly.
"Yeah..."
And then he completely disappears into the darkness. His body lies limp beneath me, his breathing steady. The smile – still on his face. As if even in unconsciousness, he says: the game continues.