Pollutant Disguise Plan (POLLUTANT)
Wang Anle stood outside the isolation room, gazing at his wife, Tang You.
The middle-aged woman lay peacefully in the cryogenic casket, deep in slumber. Even as decay crept up to her chin, she showed no signs of waking. Dr. Wang pressed his forehead against the glass of the isolation chamber and shut his eyes.
Tang You could finally rest well.
He was the doctor who had discovered the new contamination trait in patients. It was only because he frequently stayed by his wife’s side late at night that he noticed her faint murmurs—or rather, the soft, indistinct humming of something.
After reporting this observation, further monitoring by other doctors confirmed that high-contaminated patients indeed exhibited this symptom.
Tang You’s contamination level was on the verge of breaching Stage IV.
Wang Anle had tried transferring her to Shen Ji’s care, but Shen Ji had been away on containment facility business until just yesterday.
Yet in just one night, Tang You’s contamination level had dropped by four points. And it wasn’t just her—every patient under Shen Ji’s supervision showed slight reductions. Though these decreases seemed minuscule, they were enough to grant the tormented patients a rare, restful sleep.
Suppressing the urge to weep, Dr. Wang trembled as he transferred a sum of money to Shen Ji.
Even if he couldn’t openly acknowledge Shen Ji’s identity now, he wanted to express his gratitude—even if it had to be disguised under another pretext.
Thus, still in his dorm, Shen Ji received an unexpected payment.
Shen Ji blinked at the amount.
"That’s... a lot of money." He counted the five zeros, then read the transfer note labeled "Support Bonus”.
"Is the containment facility this generous?"
[The containment facility and the security forces are the hardest places to earn money—every penny is paid in blood, and most of it can only be earned by Mutants.]
"Can I use this to buy a good camera?"
[You could buy a damn plane if you wanted—assuming you could actually use it.]
Fair enough.
The containment facility prohibited filming and flying planes.
After settling Song Yuanchang in the facility, Dr. Cheng Gu took over his treatment.
At this stage, the unspoken rule of ‘doctors shouldn’t treat loved ones’ no longer applied.
Dr. Cheng even granted them an extra half-day off to catch up on sleep before returning for their night shift.
But even when off-duty, doctors were required to monitor their assigned patients. Their specialized communicators remained linked to the isolation chambers that constantly reported contamination levels.
Shen Ji lay on his bed and opened the program. After watching for a while, he spoke up in confusion.
"Why have all their contamination levels dropped slightly? Has the treatment efficiency at the facility improved so much recently?"
[Is it possible that this is your doing?]
Shen Ji: "..."
He lifted his head, trying to spot the little mushrooms hiding in various corners of the dorm.
However, those little troublemakers had a faint consciousness of their own. Normally, they would all crowd around him, but now that they realized they’d messed up, they immediately hid away and not let him catch even a glimpse of a single mushroom cap.
[Contaminants are a gluttonous bunch, and your Pig Mushrooms are no exception. Since you won’t let them eat people, they’ve been sneaking into the wards of the patients under your care because they’re hungry. They only took a tiny nibble—it won’t affect your patients at all. Look, the contamination levels only dropped by four points.]
The system’s words were dripping with excuses—'Forgive them,' 'They’re just kids, just a little greedy.'
"Spare the rod, spoil the child," Shen Ji lamented, deeply disappointed. "You’re not a competent system. You should be sent back for a complete overhaul."
[...I will now approve your self-reporting plan.]
After bickering with the system, Shen Ji reviewed the contamination levels of all his patients to confirm there were no issues before continuing his search for information on "Midnight Song."
Just then, a new message popped up in the dormitory group chat.
For the convenience of medical staff, the facility had built a large residential area near—but not too close to—the patient wards.
The dormitory provided free housing for medical personnel, though staying wasn’t mandatory. However, given the current circumstances that everyone was swamped with work, nearly all the medical staff were temporarily living there.
Like a residential complex, each building had its own management team handling miscellaneous affairs, and each had its own group chat—though hardly anyone ever spoke in them.
At least, in the seven or eight days since Shen Ji had joined, not a single message had been sent.
Opening the group chat, Shen Ji saw the new messages.
5-23: "What’s up with Zhang Qingli today? I greeted him, and he ignored me. Is he having another mood episode?"
6-02: "Same here, but it’s different from before. He used to react, even if it was intense. Today, it’s like he didn’t even hear me."
2-19: "Damn, didn’t he stay up all night? Why is he out and about today?"
1-01: "I’m right by the entrance—I didn’t see him leave."
1-29: "I see him. I’ll go say hi."
A short while later, Resident 1-29 sent a video. Shen Ji clicked on it.
The footage showed Zhang Qingli walking slowly with his head down, still wearing yesterday’s clothes.
His white coat was crumpled, as if he’d rolled around on the ground a few times. The person filming tapped his shoulder and greeted him. Zhang Qingli sluggishly raised his head to look at them, with dark circles heavy under his eyes.
His gaze was eerie—like a puppet, or as if he were trapped in some nightmare, utterly vacant.
The filmer instinctively let go, and Zhang Qingli continued walking.
Soon, residents from various floors who were resting between shifts reported Zhang Qingli’s movements. Eventually, they realized he seemed to be pacing back and forth through the entire building in an endless loop.
This bizarre behavior, combined with Zhang Qingli’s innate abilities, left the building’s occupants unsettled.
Just then, Shen Ji heard footsteps.
He stood up and opened the door to see Zhang Qingli walking toward him with his head lowered and having just emerged from the stairwell nearby. His steps were slow and unsteady, like an elderly man staggering with exhaustion.
"Zhang Qingli," Shen Ji called his name. "What are you doing?"
Hearing his name seemed to bring a flicker of awareness back to him. Like a puppet, he turned his head toward Shen Ji before lowering it again after a few seconds.
"Someone is singing.”
Zhang Qingli said, "That person is still singing, over and over. She told me to listen until the song ends."
"I've been listening for so long, but she hasn't finished yet."
"When will she stop?" Zhang Qingli muttered to himself. "I still have work to do. I need to find her and make her stop singing."
[Environmental contamination Level: 82. He’s being affected by the midnight song.]
[It seems this Pollutant is high-level. Zhang Qingli is a C-class Mutant—though his current level is unstable, he shouldn’t be so easily influenced.]
Zhang Qingli trembled as if in a daze before pressing his temples as if suffering from a headache.
With the dark circles under his eyes and his pallid complexion, he looked no different from the patients in the facility.
He tried to keep walking.
But hen Ji had no intention of letting him go.
As Zhang Qingli took a step, Shen Ji quietly extended his leg. Zhang Qingli, not paying attention, tripped and fell hard, his head smacking against the floor.
"Tch—" Zhang Qingli hissed sharply, the pain from the impact briefly clearing his mind.
With the sliver of regained consciousness, he opened his eyes to see Shen Ji pinning him down while pulling a contamination suppressor from his pocket.
Shen Ji was not one to smile. He was too serious—so serious that his white lab coat bore not a single wrinkle and his crisp white shirt perfectly pressed. His black-framed glasses sat on his face like an accessory, making him appear even more refined and rational. But this image became terrifying when he loomed over someone with a syringe in hand, like a cold, detached mad scientist.
Zhang Qingli froze in fear until the needle pierced his skin.
"Fuck, that hurts!" The pain jolted him fully awake. "Shen Ji, you’re injecting a person, not a pig!"
Shen Ji held him down while administering the full dose before smoothly withdrawing the needle. He then adjusted his glasses with an air of elegance.
"Oh, you’re awake now."
Zhang Qingli scrambled out from under him while clutching the injection spot. "It’s swollen!"
"What choice did I have?" Shen Ji shrugged. "You were clearly contaminated. I had no choice but to administer the suppressor as quickly as possible."
"No, but even if—" Zhang Qingli’s voice cut off abruptly as realization struck. "I was being affected by contamination?"
After a stunned pause, he suddenly covered his mouth before gagging violently. He barely managed to roll onto his side before coughing and retching uncontrollably.
The intense nausea forced him to vomit stomach acid, and with no breakfast in his system, his vision swam with spots.
Shen Ji waited until he finished before bringing him a glass of water. "Better now?"
"Ahem, there's something wrong." Zhang Qingli rinsed his mouth with water before coughing and speaking, "Teacher Song's warning about the contamination was absolutely... cough...not an exaggeration. Even I was affected, and I only listened to that singing for a short while."
"I didn't expect it to be this bad."
Shen Ji took out a contamination monitor. "Should I check your contamination levels?"
Zhang Qingli nodded.
After drawing blood and smearing it on the monitor, the device displayed a number: 8.
Seeing the reading, Zhang Qingli let out a long sigh of relief. Though the number was high, as a Mutant, contamination levels had to exceed 10 before being considered dangerous.
Once his emotions finally stabilized, Zhang Qingli turned to Shen Ji.
"Thanks."
Still shaken, he asked, "What kind of contaminant is this? We need to report this to the containment facility and the security team immediately."
"Yeah, I'll notify the group first." Shen Ji opened his communicator. "Everyone's been worried about you."
Only then did Zhang Qingli realize—he had been wandering around the building repeatedly earlier, trying to find the singer and stop her. Such bizarre behavior would naturally unsettle everyone.
"Hmm?" Shen Ji suddenly made a puzzled noise. The white light reflected off his glasses, casting an eerie atmosphere.
Sensing something amiss, Zhang Qingli struggled to his feet and leaned over to look at Shen Ji's phone screen.
The group chat was rapidly updating with messages.
‘7-15: Hey, have you guys heard a woman singing? This is the male dorm, right? Why would there be a woman here?’
‘5-02: I heard it too. The voice is so faint. Is it coming from upstairs or downstairs? The first floor?’
‘1-08: Not the first floor. Maybe someone’s playing music with a broken speaker?’
‘8-22: It woke me up. How could such a faint sound wake me? I haven’t slept for two days and was about to pass out.’
‘4-01: I’m on the rooftop now. No one’s here, but I can still hear the voice…’
Zhang Qingli suddenly frowned as he clutched his chest as if suppressing discomfort. He gripped Shen Ji’s sleeve tightly, and Shen Ji steadied him with a hand.
[Zhang Qingli, Talent: ‘Danger Perception.’ He can detect danger and experiences emotional agitation, much like animals before an earthquake.]
[Since the containment breach at the facility, he has remained in an extreme emotional state, as though the danger from the facility never dissipated—even after his upgrade to a C-class Mutant.]
Zhang Qingli tightened his grip on Shen Ji’s sleeve while his other hand scratched at his neck, leaving red marks on his exposed skin.
His agitation had reached its peak, as if something catastrophic was about to happen.
Shen Ji looked up.
The fungal tendrils coiled across the ceiling, multiplying excitedly in response to the surging contamination. Their devouring desire made them wriggle eagerly through the cracks, resembling high schoolers rushing out the moment the bell rings.
With a buzz, all the alarms went off!
Broken tones mixed with the distorted static of the speakers before a familiar song began to play.
A woman’s voice that was fragmented and stumbling, yet endlessly repeating the same melody.
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