[After I Was Forged into a Murderous Hound, I Wound Up in a Psychiatric Hospital]
I’m Ergou. An evil cultivator forged me into a humanoid weapon that knew nothing but killing. Then I turned around and swallowed the century-old evil ghost he’d cultivated, and a bolt of heavenly lightning hurled me into a modern psychiatric hospital.
The doctors smile as they treat me. “You’re a person, not a dog.” They have no idea I can smell the same rotting-ghost stench beneath their white coats as I did on my old master.
They make me identify pictures and take tests, hoping to “correct” me and turn me into a normal person again. But I only have eyes for the third basement floor. Every night, anguished screams echo from there, along with the aroma of a delicacy that makes my soul tremble.
Then the man who calls himself the “director” straps me to an electroshock bed and says he’ll use my body as a “paranormal interface.”
I watch the veins pulsing in his neck, then slowly bare my teeth in the most inhuman smile he’s ever seen.
“Guess how a dog... treats its new owner?”
