Countless people trashed back and forth, doctors, nurses, the Awakened Association's office workers, patients and visitors, wandering between the rooms, filling the white hospital hallways with endless clatter, chatter, and other noise, making this already unbelievably busy place seem even busier than it was. And it was BUSY, with all the patients stuffed in wherever there was a bit of space to set another bed. As it frequently was after dungeon breaks.
On one of the plastic chairs mounted to the wall sat a man, holding a paper cup with black coffee, already cold, in his hardened, calloused hands. His eyes were tired, his dark brown hair messy, and his uniform carried traces of blood. He's been at the hospital for hours now, not leaving even to refresh himself or get some sleep. He knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep anyway, not after the shock he had suffered the night before.
