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Skin blood thirst syndrome

 He had been ill since childhood—

a hereditary skin and blood thirst syndrome, an incurable disease.

"How can we escape?"

his cousin had asked him this question more than once.

He had no answer; he couldn't answer her.

By then, his cousin was emaciated, trapped with him in this white, enclosed cage, unable to escape.

Because she hadn't had fresh blood for a long time, she was skin and bones, trembling constantly, clutching his hand and asking how they could escape.

He didn't know...

In fact, if he were brave, if he fought to the death, there might be a chance to turn things around.

But he didn't dare; he was afraid. What

if they were caught?

That would be the end.

Looking into his cousin's longing eyes

, he remembered the red cross that had appeared before them—their family's faith and glory, a symbol of victory, but now it was all gone.

He pulled his cousin, trying to hide in a corner, desperately praying not to be discovered.

Just then, he heard someone enter, and rustling voices drifted over.

His cousin suddenly looked up, her eyes lighting up.

“We will survive.” She covered his eyes and said, “Don’t look.”

He shook his head desperately, his heart screaming: No, you’ll die.

His cousin, trembling, stepped into the public eye and secretly reached out her hand…

“Smack!”

A crisp sound was produced by the interaction of external forces.

“No…!”

He ran out, watching helplessly as his cousin’s body tore apart and fell vertically before him.

He saw her terrified eyes and her mouth struggling to open:

“Don’t come any closer.”

It was too late.

In the instant death approached, he heard someone say:

“Why are there so many mosquitoes in the hospital?”

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