[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies":3,"chapter-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-277":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Notes on Kraft Anomalous Studies",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2283755,4467,"Chapter 277: Nightmare","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-277",277,"\u003Cp>Kraft and Yin Feng returned to the clinic; their hair was half-dried by the wind, and from their appearance alone, one might think they’d skipped work to take students on a camping trip, slipped accidentally into a mountain stream, and hastily packed up to return early.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He declined everyone’s offers to help carry the packages, instructed them to prepare a late-night snack and a fire, then vanished up the stairs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kup, who arrived upon hearing the news, heard only the sound of the door closing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The attendant and assistant shrugged, set down the sterilizing instruments he was holding, washed his hands, and headed toward the kitchen to ask the chef, also working late, to prepare two more bowls of hot soup with extra cinnamon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After finishing their tasks, the group sat at the table sharing food, waiting for the professor to finish his preparations and return to explain his absence and review recent work feedback.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Yin Feng began her third bowl of soup, Kup realized tonight might be different.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If there was one person best suited to leave the table at this moment, it was him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So the professor’s assistant set down his bowl, rose, and walked to the door, stepping on the newly repaired floorboards, only to find the light still on inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He raised his hand to knock, but stopped inches from the door. The room was utterly silent—no splashing, no footsteps, not even the faint tapping of a brass pen nib against the desk through paper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wasn’t sure when he’d become so sensitive—perhaps from days of forced repetition in medical work, training his ears to reflexively distinguish subtle differences in sound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or perhaps something lurking beneath his conscious awareness. Like after finishing cleaning, being the last to leave a darkened ward, noticing the front door slightly ajar, air rushing through its creaking crack to buffet the flickering candle of his lantern.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind that door lay nothing—or perhaps the breath of an entire dark, damp world passing by, triggering an instinctive retreat, followed by confusion over why he’d flinched a moment before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pulled his hand back, shielding the flame; the warmth in his palm neared pain, yet brought comfort.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps the person inside was simply too exhausted to turn off the light before falling asleep—uncommon, but understandable, given the journey he’d clearly endured.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Recognizing this was useful—it spared him from waking someone already asleep, allowing any matter to wait until tomorrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet he stood at the door a moment longer, waiting for the next sound—if there truly would be one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d learned this from auscultation: not every sound appears precisely when you press the stethoscope to the skin; sometimes you must wait through several cycles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He did hear it—a low sound, even fainter than his own breath and heartbeat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Through the door, the porous sound-absorbing material, the specialized container—it retained its crisp, pure tone. The sound of hard objects tapping glass, rhythmic, one after another.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because it was so regular, it was easy to ignore, filtered out as background noise—but listen closely, and you could discern its origin within the room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It made him imagine a tidal shore, tiny creatures activated by water opening and closing their hard shells, generating an endless rhythm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the “tide” was still rising—a different environment encroaching upon the familiar, rising like tide, spreading like mist, filling the room invisibly, rippling and diffusing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kup felt the surroundings had grown slightly alien. He hadn’t moved—he stood on a floor he’d walked countless times, the patched boards still bearing his own handiwork—but now it had become a shoreline, he was immersed in invisible tide, viewing everything through a layer of transparent liquid, everything subtly altered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crisp tapping grew faster, as if celebrating the tide’s arrival.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kup took a deep breath and began to retreat, then moved faster, turned, and hurried downstairs, interrupting Yin Feng’s meal and pulling her to the door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Something had happened—but he needed another person to confirm it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The answer was yes: Yin Feng suddenly clapped her hands over her ears, then released them and looked around, as if something had screamed abruptly beside her ear, then vanished instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It seemed Kraft was no longer allowed to keep sleeping.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Mr. Kraft, are you inside?” He pounded on the door; the thuds echoed through the entire corridor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In response came a sound like ticking clocks—on top of the previous rhythm, a second source activated, another tapping glass at a different frequency, like two stirring rods swinging back and forth inside a glass vessel, striking its walls.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, not right.” Kup reached for his left hip, realizing the page hammer wasn’t on him—these days’ work made carrying weapons impractical; even the most sluggish patient wouldn’t mistake it for medical equipment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But there was a better way: “Yin Feng, we need to get in.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without needing further instruction, Yin Feng pressed her hand against the door; the sound of strained, sour wood fibers warping leaked out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kup quickly corrected her technique: “Not in the center—push near the lock.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the girl adjusted her stance, leaning her full weight against the door, the wood began to shift inward; a tearing sound like paper ripping came from the frame, accompanied by the clatter of small metal fittings falling and rolling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the deformation reached a critical point, the hinge snapped sharply; half the wooden doorframe tore from the wall, and Yin Feng, unable to stop her momentum, stumbled forward with the detached door, collapsing onto the floor with it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>【Broken—this door opens outward】\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now was not the time to dwell on this minor error. Kup scanned the room instantly, and upon seeing the figure seated at the desk with its back to them, he exhaled in relief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The noise of their entry stirred a reaction from the figure—a slight turn of the head, as if a reflexive response to external change within a dream, then nothing more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Mr. Kraft?” The attendant called again. The man showed no reaction to his name. His throat itched slightly; a faint sour taste surged up through his nasal passages, mixed with an indescribable odd flavor—the invisible tide entering the room brushed against his taste buds and olfactory senses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the source of the “tide” sat at the desk. On it lay a locked box storing hazardous reagents—the crisp tapping originated from within.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He did not dare place a hand on the shoulder of someone seemingly lost in a dream—it might provoke an extreme reaction, especially with someone far superior to himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Instead, he carefully circled to the front.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At first glance, he simply looked exhausted—his half-dry clothes still on, whatever urgent matter he’d needed to store safely now secured, finally allowing himself a sigh, intending to rest briefly in the chair before going down for dinner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the moment his head touched the support, irresistible sleep seized his consciousness, and with it came other things.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kup slammed his palm on the desk; objects on it trembled and settled. “Kraft!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time, perhaps close enough—within his self-defense threshold—Kraft’s eyelids snapped open, his left hand rising. Kup felt something forming around them, but as consciousness returned halfway, it halted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Kraft...” he repeated the word he’d heard; his gaze wasn’t focused where it should be, as if for an instant he’d questioned his own name. “Oh, Kup—has the late-night snack been prepared?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Are you alright?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I suppose so.” Kraft straightened his back, glancing at the quiet box on the desk. “I fell asleep?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Did you dream of anything?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nothing.” Kraft replied. Kup saw no signs of tension or seriousness on his face, and relaxed slightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just over there.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1268,"2026-06-20T02:15:56.940Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","bf02100d8b6720b492c9cdac7916d9be10880b9ff20d68e8f95eb989c2fa9872","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-278","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-276",406,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fnotes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-cover.jpg"]