I Practice Daily Life in the Human World

Clinic Room 403 of a tertiary hospital, 2:40 in the morning. The shadow on the patient's wall was standing up on its own. Chen Jin held the gray-stained scalpel tightly in his left hand. He had just cut open a Shadow Eater in the "Jingyuan" three hours ago, and the cut-out heart was engraved with today's date. He wrote the diagnosis: "No treatment required. The shadow is growing normally." Things you don't know about the real world: He disappears every Wednesday night and goes to a place called "Mirror Abyss" to hunt for strange things. Each weapon he collects is bound to a personality flaw - lack of empathy, avoidance of grief, self-deception, and desire for control. His consulting room is filled with things that should not exist: beating hearts, shadow clones, seven selves talking to each other in the early morning. Then the weirdness really happened. The hospital elevator stopped in the morgue, the patient's shadow ate independently, and the soup in the noodle shop had a taste that did not belong to the ingredients. The state secret agency came to visit: "Dr. Chen, you are the only person who can travel between the two worlds - but the price is that you yourself are the entrance that is being opened." Chen Jin did not choose to close the door. He chose - practice daily life. Hot soup from the noodle shop, mints from the convenience store, medical records with typos written by interns, and the sun painted on the wall by the landlord's granddaughter. Before the world collapsed into a "meaningless" white ball, there was another girl in his consulting room asking: "Dr. Chen, I did a small thing for no reason - I threw away all the expired instant noodles in your cabinet. Does it count?" This is a war on "normal." The weapon is not a knife. It is to sit down and listen to someone finish speaking.