Chapter 45: The Asylum

  “You…remember me?” I asked, confused.

  “My, my, my,” Dr. Skarn chuckled, pressing the plunger of his metallic syringe just enough to release a thin stream of clear liquid. “How could I ever forget?”

  Before I could voice my confusion further, he cut in.

  “No, like seriously – how?” He asked, with disarming sincerity.

  Then he raised a finger from his brass prosthetic and tapped it against his forehead – far too close to his eyes for comfort. The twitching joints of his mechanical fingers looked like they might gouge one of his eyes out by accident – a thought which made me extremely anxious.

  “Born with perfect memory, I was,” he said, grinning. “Anything this pair of eyes had seen? Burned into my mind forever. Like a phonograph cylinder.”

  Really? That could be useful –

  “My Momma used to say,” he continued, killing off my tram of thought, “’Em, with that cursed memory of yours, you ought to be an inventor!’”

  He burst into laughter. “You know what I told her?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “I told her she ought to be an inventor!”

  He laughed even harder, his right hand releasing more fluid from the syringe while his brass fingers on the other hand kept fidgeting, keeping me on edge.

  And just as I thought I could finally speak, he started talking again, his tone turning grim all of a sudden.

  “Was foolish of me to say, of course,” he muttered. “My mother was a quadriplegic. Paralyzed from the neck down since I was two.”

  His voice lowered as he seemed reminiscent. “How could she be an inventor with such a disability?”

  “That’s…right,” I said, trying to steer him back on track. “So, you’re saying you’d remember anyone who passed through these doors?” I pointed at the entrance.

  “With a hundred percent certainty!” He said, slamming his brass arm onto the wooden desk with a clang that made me flinch. His grin returned – unsettling as ever, but strangely comforting now after what he revealed about his mother. “Under certain circumstances.”

  “And those are?” I asked.

  I regretted it instantly.

  “Well, let’s see…if I woke before seven, if I ate porridge for breakfast, if my socks matched that day, if…” He kept going, voice rising with each increasingly absurd condition.

  What a joke…

  Why did I even ask? I guess I just got swept in by his bizarre energy…

  Last time I was here, he was also this eccentric.

  I remembered seeing him with the patients inside and thinking that this was just a role – acting eccentric to make patients feel more at ease. I even admired it a little. But now I knew better.

  It wasn’t an act.

  He might actually be going insane. Likely from spending too many years with those who already had.

  “Dr. Skarn,” I interrupted, gently but firmly, “I think I get it.”

  “You do?” He asked, blinking, then gave a solemn nod. “That’s great. Someone should. Sometimes I don’t even get it myself.”

  Silence followed – until, just like that, his entire demeanor flipped. The smile faded. The brass fingers stopped twitching. His posture straightened as well.

  “Well, Mr. Halegrim,” he said with a professional tone I didn’t think this man was capable of. “As you can see, I also take the role of a receptionist these days.” He gestured to the broken terminal beside him. “How may I help you?”

  Was I wrong? Was before actually an act?

  He was less patient now. “Well, Mr. Halegrim? I do have patients waiting.”

  Time to get serious.

  A lie formed in my mind – harmless enough, just a push that might get me through that door.

  “Dr. Aresa said that – “

  He cut me off with a loud, deep sigh.

  “No need to lie. I know why you’re here.”

  My body tensed. Muscles ready.

  “And why is that?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

  “I was informed you might come,” Dr. Skarn said simply, his suddenly-steady brass fingers scratching at his chin. “You’re here for her, aren’t you? Your sister?”

  My blood froze.

  “Who told you I might come?” I asked, heart thundering in my chest. “Was it the Primarch, or – “

  “It matters not,” he interrupted again, waving the question away with a move of his human hand. “What matters is – she’s here.”

  My eyes widened.

  “Do you want to see her?”

  I did. But this…this was definitely a trap.

  “Just like that?” I asked, my mind already preparing to summon a handgun from the Inventory.

  “Yes,” Dr. Skarn said, his tone calm, almost bored. “The only person barred from visiting her was her father – Mr. Graham Stanford. But he never even figured out she was here. You, on the other hand, were…encouraged to be allowed. Those were the orders I received.”

  I blinked, confusion growing.

  “Orders from who?”

  He just grinned, like a child guarding a secret too good to share.

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  “Answer me, damn it!” I snapped.

  But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t answer. Just kept that goosebumps-inducing grin of his.

  Eventually, he spoke again – quiet, measured. “Well, Mr. Halegrim…do you want to see her?”

  This is a trap. 100%. But I must check this.

  I swallowed hard, nodding slowly, and activated Checkpoint.

  [Checkpoint Set: Your progress has been saved at this point in time]

  [Current anchor will be lost upon death, or after thirty minutes. The earliest of the two.]

  [Checkpoint lvl. 1: Time left until Anchor expires – 00:29:59]

  Dr. Skarn moved to open the side gate of the reception desk – but it jammed halfway. Without missing a beat, he raised one leg and kicked it open hard enough to tear it off its hinges.

  That’s when I noticed his leg. It was also made of brass. Another prosthetic.

  And he was barefoot.

  He turned and extended an arm toward the asylum’s entrance. “Shall we, Mr. Halegrim?”

  ***

  The second I stepped inside the asylum proper, the goosebumps only intensified.

  Walking into a trap knowingly felt wrong. But I was in.

  I had my COG. I had the Time Manipulation skills. I had the Inventory – items I could summon out of thin air in an instant if needed.

  I should be fine.

  As long as I watched every flank.

  Behind me, the door clicked shut. A mechanical beep confirmed it had been locked.

  I glanced at Dr. Skarn.

  Who was he, really?

  Was he now Dalton Rose’s man? Tasked with intercepting anyone snooping around Thea? Or maybe the one operating him was…Valdemar?

  The Memory Fragments made it clear – Valdemar and my mother were somewhat close. Close enough for the Primarch to fear that even Stanford might betray him. Given this, I wouldn’t rule it past Valdemar to ger personally involved in saving the daughter of his close ally.

  “She’s right ahead, Mr. Halegrim,” Dr. Skarn said, gesturing down the hallway. “Upstairs.”

  Not about to have this guy following me, I turned and gestured forward. “You lead.”

  He flashed me that same too-wide grin, nodded, and stepped ahead. “Very well. Follow me.”

  This part of the asylum looked no better than the front lobby – maybe even slightly worse. The waiting area’s sofas were worn-out, and some of the overhead Lumen Lamps flickered erratically, their crystals half-dead.

  This was the office wing – where psychiatrists and doctors held their sessions. It was as far as I’d gotten two years ago. Right here, just outside one the room further on the right, I saw Dr. Skarn for the first time – chatting with two patients with that extremely-over-the-top act of his.

  But now, scanning the closed office doors on either side, the place felt…deserted.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked, probing – testing the act.

  “In their offices,” he replied, not slowing. “We’ve had…a shortage. Some staff fell ill. Very ill. Others left – moved on to more luxurious clinics or opened private practices. Things got bad enough that House Health considered closing us entirely.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Lady Rennee herself even visited. If you believe it.”

  Looking at this wreck of a place, maybe they should’ve closed it.

  “But they didn’t shut you down,” I said matter-of-factly.

  “That’s right.” His voice dropped slightly. “A different hand intervened. I became Lead Doctor and the Head of the Asylum. But – long story. Wouldn’t want to bore you.”

  A different hand, huh? Dalton Rose’s? He agreed to leave the asylum alone – and even give Dr. Skarn a promotion – in exchange for holding a prisoner of his here.

  Surely that was it.

  “And the Enforcers?” I asked.

  Places like this were supposed to have Ironwatch personnel stationed inside. For the safety of the staff, if nothing else.

  “Oh, there’s one,” he said. “Just the one. No need for more. Probably patrolling the floors. Or doing whatever it is they do.”

  Only one? Really?

  We reached the stairwell, and the moment the screams from the upper floors resumed, I froze.

  “Wait,” I said, getting cold feet. “Answer my earlier question. Who told you that I’d be coming?”

  He stopped but didn’t turn.

  “I’m not going another step until you tell me.”

  He glanced back, grinning.

  “You have no leverage here, Mr. Halegrim,” he said calmly. “I can escort you back to the exit, if you’d like. Or…we can proceed to your family reunion.” He paused. “Which option would you prefer?”

  My stomach twisted.

  He was bluffing. Probably. Or maybe…he wasn’t.

  I couldn’t tell. He was too hard to read with his dual personality.

  Swallowing hard, I gestured to the stairs. “Lead on.”

  Returning to his eccentric self, he began bouncing up the steps – springing off his human leg.

  I followed more carefully, goosebumps intensifying as the screams grew louder.

  By the time we reached the second floor, I spotted nurses rushing between doors. It brought a small measure of relief. At least the place was still functioning as an asylum.

  We kept climbing.

  On the third floor, Dr. Skarn turned down the hallway and beckoned without looking back. “Follow me, Mr. Halegrim.”

  This floor looked just half-abandoned compared to the previous one. Several patient rooms stood wide open and empty. There were fewer nurses up here too – almost none, in fact.

  Dr. Skarn led me to a room marked Meeting Room #3, the label engraved into a rusted brass plaque beside the door.

  Inside was a bare chamber with just three chairs: two facing each other, the third set off to the side, watching the other two like an observer.

  Metal ventilation grilles lined the upper walls, circulating the only airflow in this otherwise sealed room.

  “You can wait here,” Dr. Skarn said, gesturing toward one of the chairs. “I’ll go bring her.”

  I turned to him sharply. “I’m not staying here alone.”

  “Relax, Mr. Halegrim,” he said, raising his hands, his brass fingers twitching again. “You either meet her here, or you don’t meet her at all.”

  I briefly thought about threatening him with a gun, but quickly remembered my conversation with Chronos - the new rule. What if I'm wrong and he's just a simple doctor? Threatening to kill him might get me killed via heart explosion. Or worse - marked by Erebus.

  Figuring that I could easily escape this room if I wanted – the door was mostly wooden – I nodded.

  He stepped outside and closed the door behind him – but didn’t lock it.

  “I’m not even locking it,” he suddenly called out from the other side. “See?”

  Then he was gone.

  Right after he was gone, I turned to my COG, checking the Aetherprint signal.

  Still nearby – but that didn’t help much. The building had five floors, and the signal's strength wasn’t precise enough to account for such specific altitude differences.

  Well, either way, I wasn’t going to sit here waiting for the trap to spring shut on me.

  I took a step toward the door –

  Suddenly my knees gave out beneath me.

  I collapsed hard onto the floor, limbs suddenly heavy, useless.

  My visions swam as I turned toward the ventilation grilles.

  Sleeping gas.

  Damn it.

  Everything went black.

  ***

  I came to my senses with a sharp sting in my arm.

  It wasn’t my COG needles.

  A nurse, pale and tired, stepped out of view with a metallic syringe still in hand.

  “What did you inject?!” I shouted after her – but she didn’t respond.

  Then, a door closed behind me.

  My head spun, but I forced myself to focus.

  This wasn’t the meeting room. I was in a different room now – some kind of treatment room. Rows of white cupboards lined the walls, filled with bottles, vials, and scattered tools. A steel basin rested in the corner of the room, covered with a layer of rust. The glow of a single Lumen Lamp above lit the entire room and its dirty green tiles. And it smelled horrible. A combination of all the smells I’d experienced at the entrance, multiplied by a thousand.

  But the bigger problem was me.

  I was strapped to a medical chair – arms, legs, chest – secured tightly to the frame. Thick leather restraints - closed with a lock - held me in place, digging into my skin every time I struggled.

  And worst of all – my COG was gone.

  Panic hit hard.

  “Let me out!” I roared, fighting the binds with nothing to show for it.

  Then, a phonotube behind me crackled to life.

  “Relax, Mr. Halegrim,” came Skarn’s unmistakable voice, warped with static. “It’s just something to calm your nerves. Someone’s very eager to meet you – and I couldn’t risk you walking away.”

  “Who?!” I barked. “Who wants to meet me?!”

  But once again, he did not respond.

  Damn it! I should’ve known better. I should’ve accounted for other methods of capture. I thought I was prepared but I wasn't.

  I’m such an overconfident fool!

  The Primarch. Surely it was him.

  Suddenly, my breathing grew shallow, and my eyelids drooped.

  Heaviness crept into my mind.

  Drugged again.

  I tried to fight it, but my body was already giving in, sleep taking me.

  And once my eyes fluttered open again, I wasn’t sure if I was imagining things or trapped in a nightmare.

  A figure stood before me.

  Fully cloaked in black. A hood drawn low. A brass helmet covered his head, featureless except for two visors glowing red in place of his eyes.

  Valdemar.

  His altered, mechanical voice sent a shiver down my spine.

  “We finally meet…Champion of Chronos.”