I Work at a Psychiatric Hospital, and I've Driven All the Conquest Heroes Crazy

On her first day at work, the previous attending physician bolts out the door with a cardboard box, tossing over his shoulder, “Don’t treat the one in Bed 008. They’ll die.”

Guo Jingjing opens the medical file: long-term hospitalization, extreme danger, and an average tenure of just 72 days for previous attending physicians.

When she makes her rounds, a white-haired, red-eyed boy sits by the window folding paper cranes, smiling with a purity that doesn’t seem to belong to a patient.

“Are you here to cure me too?”

“No. I’m here to get you discharged. You’re wasting a bed.”

She has no System and no golden finger, only a baffling “medical-record intuition” that lets her tell at a glance who’s truly crazy and who’s faking it.

A transmigrator with a hypnosis System shows up and breaks down;

a transmigrator with an empathy-binding System shows up and goes mad;

a transmigrator with a personality-rebuilding System shows up and checks into the ward next door.

Only she remains, making her rounds on time every day, sneaking in braised pork, and urging him to fill out psychological questionnaires.

Until he writes a name in the box marked “Who do you most want to see?” A name that no household registration system can find.

“Find him for me, and I’ll get discharged.”

Guo Jingjing stares at the handwriting, her heart skipping a beat. This writing... where has she seen it before?