"You're welcome, you're welcome, haha... uh..." Hearing Gavin Dawson's thanks, the thief waved his hands repeatedly, saying "you're welcome." It was only amidst his beaming smile that he suddenly realized the people gradually gathering around were all looking at him with strange expressions.

"Damn!!" The thief finally realized—wasn't he here to steal something? How did it end up like this? The shock nearly scared him out of his wits. He immediately let go of Gavin Dawson and tried to make a run for it.

Just as he let go, several cries of alarm rang out simultaneously from inside the sixth-floor corridor and the corner between the sixth and seventh floors.

"Watch out!"

"Ah..."

"Bang!"

Gavin Dawson, who had just regained consciousness, still had a splitting headache and was not fully alert. As the support under his body suddenly shifted away, he once again crashed hard into the steps behind him.

"Huh?..." The thief had just turned a corner to escape, but when he caught a glimpse of Gavin Dawson's head hitting the stairs again, his face changed dramatically and he burst into tears. "Bro... please, I didn't mean it... you really can't set me up like this..."

...

When he woke up again, the first thing Gavin Dawson felt was pain at the back of his head, though it wasn't too severe. Through his slightly blurry eyelids, a sliver of light crept in.

Letting out a low groan, Gavin Dawson hadn't even opened his eyes when an enticing fragrance wafted into his nose, and it seemed as if a shadowy figure hovered above his eyelids.

"Ah, you're awake? That's great! Doctor, he's awake!"

A pleasant voice sounded from above his head. Gavin Dawson opened his eyes slightly and saw half of a gentle, beautiful, fair face, with a straight lock of hair hanging down one side, brushing right against his nose.

As the hair swayed, a tickling sensation made Gavin Dawson suddenly sneeze. At that moment, the beautiful face quickly moved away, replaced by an ordinary-looking middle-aged man.

"Mr. Du, how are you feeling now? Is there anywhere you feel uncomfortable?"

"Ah..."

Gavin Dawson was about to take a good look at the person in front of him, but as soon as he did, his mouth fell open in shock, staring blankly at the middle-aged man. The pain at the back of his head instantly vanished in his astonishment.

Middle-aged, still middle-aged, wearing a white coat, utterly ordinary. But on the man's chest, two floating, intersecting, rotating words hovered in midair.

Spirit, 0; Vitality, 0.

They were two water-blue words, and at first glance, it seemed as if they refracted the room's light into a rainbow of colors—very beautiful to look at.

But the problem was, words floating and spinning in midair around a person's body? How could that be possible?

Gavin Dawson shrank back in shock and sat up in bed, ignoring the surprise in the middle-aged man's eyes, and quickly looked at the other people in the room. It was a not-so-spacious but very tidy hospital room. In the white daylight, three people were standing there: besides the middle-aged doctor and a female nurse, there was also a beautiful woman in a blue dress.

With this glance, the shock and fear in Gavin Dawson's eyes grew even more intense, because the two women also had those two words floating and spinning in front of their chests—Spirit, 0; Vitality, 0.

Not only were the words the same for all three, but even the speed and frequency of their rotation seemed identical. The only difference was that, depending on the fullness of each person's chest, the arc of rotation varied slightly.

"This is crazy!! What the hell is going on?"

The sheer absurdity of it all made Gavin Dawson suddenly cry out in alarm, shrinking back even further.

His reaction startled the three people in the room. The middle-aged man, after a brief pause, straightened up a bit and kept a certain distance from Gavin Dawson, then said kindly, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?"

"The words, on your chests... the words..."

Gavin Dawson was still terrified, his speech a bit jumbled, but he managed to stammer out what he was seeing.

After that, the hospital room fell into silence. The middle-aged man and the two women looked at each other, then simultaneously looked down at their own chests. Words? Blue words floating and spinning in midair? What?

"Ahem." After a moment of daze, the middle-aged doctor finally cleared his throat and turned to the woman in the blue dress. "Ms. Harris, may I have a word with you?"

"What's wrong? Doctor, what's wrong with him?" The woman looked suspicious and uneasy, glancing at Gavin Dawson, who was still staring at them in fear. A hint of fear appeared on her face as well, but she quickly followed the doctor's lead to the corner of the room.

"Ahem, Ms. Harris, I'm afraid Mr. Du's condition is not very optimistic." The middle-aged man hesitated for a moment, then said somewhat awkwardly, "A concussion is a common aftereffect of a blow to the head, but for Mr. Du to develop schizophrenia from the impact—this is rather tricky."