My head is ringing and I feel sick to my stomach. The urge to vomit wells up and my dizzy mind can't make heads or tails of the situation. It's like I'm drunk, only 1000 times worse as I can't form a proper thought. The colors of the world blend and mix like wet paint upon a canvas, I lose myself in the imagery. The scenes painted before me are vague, yet with them there carries a subtle familiarity. I feel embedded into the hues and tints. First like I'm trapped inside a tornado, then like I'm floating on a current, my world slowly comes to a halt. Standing erect in my mind, like a blockade made of pure titanium, a section of my subconscious is walled off. For the first time since I can remember, my head is empty. With this realization, my consciousness slowly returns, like the gentle seepage of blood through a bullet wound.

Once again, I wake up in an unfamiliar room. The walls are egg white, the floor is made of bone-white tiles, and the ceiling has sterile light beaming down across the expansive space. Lined up next to me are rows of beds. Every single one of them is empty. The sheets are a light blue, the comforters yet again white. Both to my left and right, around five or so beds can be counted. Next to them are various machines and medical equipment. "Ah, so I'm in a hospital" is the conclusion that my mind naturally reaches. This is really quite a surprise, one that threatens to overturn my very reality if I don't receive answers soon.

Was everything a dream? Was Hotel Limbo and the monsters mere figments of my imagination while I was in a coma? The explanation doesn't really sit well with me, and I feel a strong sense of doubt well up at the mere mention of the thought. Still, without answers, nothing stops my mind from making wild conclusions, much to my own detriment.

As if on cue, a portion of the wall slides open, forming a door-sized clearing. This level of technology is really quite shocking to me, as so far I've only seen outdated appliances being used. Besides that unnecessary observation, I see Roland stride into the room like he owns the place. He looks the best he's ever had. His hair is neat and styled, slicked back with what looks like grease. He's wearing a red and white button-up shirt, with tight blue jeans. His rugged facial hair has been cleaned up, though the bags under his maddened eyes remain the same. I also note how the wound on his cheek has been cleaned, and it seems to be healing quickly. Roland's appearance clears up any confusion in my mind, and my brain switches into its cold observer mode unprompted. He looks at me for a moment, his red eyes scanning over me with slow, snake-like movements. Finally, he opens his mouth.

"How do you feel?"

His words are surprisingly kind, but I'm not in the right mindset to do anything beyond taking note. My voice flows out, dull and irritable.

"Woozy, my head feels like shit."

Given the circumstances, it's the most appropriate response, though I dislike the crudeness of swearing. Roland easily accepts the reply and generously fills me in on the details, sitting down on a pure white chair that springs up from the ground.

"You're on the 75th floor."

My mind freezes and I slowly blink.

"...What?"

"The state you were in when you feel unconscious is more serious than you think. I've decided that you hold extreme importance towards the completion of my future plans, so I took the gamble and brought you here. This is one of the safe floors, but safety is relative. As the hospital is a business similar to the restaurants, they are a danger to those weak. Especially those without Stigmas."

He pauses as if to allow the words to sink in. All this does, however, is enable my mind to create more questions, mainly: Why is he behaving this way? I thought he was a maddened berserker. What was the cost of my treatment? How safe is it since neither of us have Stigma's? What caused me to blackout in the first place?

"I guess you want to know what caused this whole mess, huh? Sorry, but if you don't have a Stigma, you'll drive yourself insane trying to figure that out..."

"If that's the case, why is it that you seem to know the reason? You don't happen to have a Stigma that I don't know about, do you?"

He narrows his eyes at my words as if offended that I'd even assume such a thing. What was he expecting me to say though? It's obvious that he knows the reason for my mental collapse, yet how is it that he's able to stay conscious? What even causes me to fall unconscious in the first place? Is it a type of hypnosis?

"If you really want to know the reason I'm not a giggling psycho, or a flesh-eating monster, then I guess you can say I've developed a type of immunity."

"Explain."

"Hah, feeling brazen are we? Everybody innately understands the thing you attempted to understand when they first get their Stigma. Few can deduce the truth through pure logic like you. From what I know, only five people so far have been able to reach the truth without getting a Stigma, yet even they eventually ate people, making them no different from everyone else. As for me, I've never eaten a person, so I don't have a Stigma. I haven't tried to puzzle the universe together, since I don't have the mental capacity for that. But I have seen things. Impossible things. Things that broke my mind, over and over again, until my body said enough, and I was forced to understand. If I were to give up at any point and succumb to my madness, I'd be no different than the blubbering fools on floor one. So consider yourself lucky, Mary. You tried to piece together the truth of the world, and in doing so nearly lost your mind. Yet even then, you were able to survive with your mental facilities intact. I don't know how you're similar to the five I mentioned before, but for my safety and curiosity, I've decided to keep you around. Just stop trying to understand the impossible."

I really don't know what to say. It's quite a lot of information to digest. I decide to break things down, ignoring the growing silence as I focus on understanding what Roland said. So, there's a truth to this world, with only three methods of reaching it. I can either get a Stigma, which is a big no. I can puzzle together what I can, which will result in my very likely insanity. Or I can gain immunity through simply experiencing the world without a Stigma, like Roland. The last one is most likely the way things will turn out. I don't want to eat people, and there's a very low survivability rate of actually deducing the truth through pure logic apparently. Evidently, only five people in the entire hotel have been able to do it so far.

I look around, making my movements obvious so that my next topic doesn't come out of the left field. Afterward, I look at the seated Roland with dull eyes, as if I'm still in a daze.

"How did you manage to get to the 75th floor without being attacked? I thought going here is certain death."

Roland nods with a bitter expression coating his face. In the meanwhile, he pulls out a strip of paper covered in the gold coating. Written on its front are words I can't understand. They don't even seem to be a human language.

"A while back, when I first work up in the hotel, I spent my every moment gambling with the money I stole from others. I was lost back then, with no real direction to point my anger towards. I happened to hit it big and wound up running into the owner of the casino, a woman by the name of Vanessa. She seemed to have taken an interest in me, very likely because I didn't have a Stigma. So she gave me this ticket. A single-use, get-out-of-jail-free card. With this, I'll have complete immunity for a set amount of time on any floor. All I'd need to do is flash this card, and no matter how strong my attacker is, they'll stop and walk away. I was honestly saving it so I could hunt an entire floor without interference, but after thinking about it slowly, the possibility of such an event happening is rather low. In which case I decided to cash it in here. For your sake."

Vanessa huh? She must be an incredibly powerful person if she's able to command others with a mere slip of paper. I wonder what her Stigma is. It's got to be stronger than anything I've seen so far, right? Still, now that I know the how, where, and why, I need to know the who. Who was it that operated on me? From what I've seen so far with the more modern technology, I'm leaning towards a robotic doctor than a human one.

"And who operated on me? And where did my clothes go?"

I noticed a while ago, but I'm currently dressed in a simple patient outfit. The sky-blue fabric is rough on my skin, and even though my body is under the blankets, it still seems rather airy.

"This room is run by an A.I. named 0-W-0. They're the best in the field since they're completely unbiased, meaning they don't want to eat their patients. This is definitely the safest place to get treated."

He says such a thing without the slightest change in expression. I find myself wholly understanding of the situation. Yes, this is how things should be. Technology has been strangely ancient since I got here.

"I understand. Then what's our next move?"

"Since you're awake you should be ready to leave. I've chosen our next target, another person that caused the creation of a new rule. When I first learned of his existence I was hesitant to act alone since the fight would be rather difficult to accomplish. But now that you're here things will run a lot smoother. His death will also make our operations faster since we won't have to worry about him attacking."

"I see. So, who is it?"

"Jeffrey Galloway. He's a rather famous bastard here in the hotel. He started off adamant about not eating human flesh, but after a single bite he completely transformed into a monster, and not in the usual sense. His Stigma is rather strange too. He can extend his limbs infinitely, making him a dangerous foe to face."

"And this rule that was created because of him?"

"The one about not going outside your room during the night."

"How does he enforce such a thing? Surely he wouldn't be able to find out when someone was leaving."

"From what I understand, it has a lot to do with how he uses his Stigma. I hear he looks down every floor on a type of patrol. You know the stairway next to the elevator?"

I nod my head, fully understanding the strategy with those few words.

"He can propel his head faster than the elevator moves, making his methods of patrolling rather efficient."

"But wait, wasn't there a part in the rules about not looking at whoever calls out to you? Why doesn't he just attack?"

"Ah right, I didn't fully explain Stigmas. Very often a strong Stigma comes with a certain Condition. Anna's was that she must transform, Tom was invisible. In Jeffrey's case, he's only able to attack when someone reacts to him. Think of it as a kind of tax for the rich. You don't want everyone at the bottom to suffer while the wealthy get wealthier, right?"

"Of course!"

"Then count yourself lucky that such a system exists. Without it, there would be a lot more blood being spilled, and our job would be a lot more difficult. After knowing the conditions of their abilities, we can make a trap using the rules they're forced to follow."

"And I assume you already have a plan for Jeffrey?"

I'm really not surprised. This place is already strange, having monsters follow specific rules only seems natural at this point. I am curious as to how it feels to be bound by these rules, but it's not really something I'll be able to find out for myself.

"Obviously. I'm not an amateur, these plans have been in the works since I first learned about Jeffrey. I had been planning on using someone from floor one, but you'll be even better."

A pit forms in my stomach as I dread the direction this conversation is going. I fight to not allow my voice to quiver as I speak up.

"...And what job will I be having?"

Any kindness I sensed from Roland now evaporates without a trace. I should have expected as much, given that look in his eyes. I thought it was weird he was acting so nice, despite his usual nature. I'm just shocked I couldn't put the pieces together in time. It's as if my internal alarm system has been disabled or something.

"Haha, naturally you'll be playing the role of bait. I sure hope your acting is good..."