> In order to raise enough money for my mother's surgery, I took a high-paying job - working as a night shift security guard at No. 8 Hospital, a famous "ominous place" in the city.
>
> I have a problem, severe obsessive-compulsive disorder, and I will uncontrollably remember all the details in my field of vision. For example, I clearly remember that before the patrol, the fire extinguisher at the end of the corridor on the third floor had three scratches on the box. But at three o'clock in the morning, when I passed by again, there were four scratches there.
>
> Colleague Liu said I was dazzled, but my brain told me that the extra scratch looked like the outline of an eye.
>
> From that day on, my memory, which was diagnosed as "morbid" by doctors, began to record more unexplainable changes: the crack in the door of the morgue would be one millimeter wider every night than the previous day; in the group photo on the wall of the dean's office, one person's face would become a little blurrier every day; the shape of the "water stain" in the corridor that could never be wiped away was gradually... Changing into mine.
>
> I finally understood that there is "something" here, and it is getting closer to me by modifying the "details" of this world. I can't escape, and there's no one to talk to, because in this haunted building, my damn obsessive-compulsive disorder is the only eye that can tell where "it" is.
