Dorian Vale

The night shift in surgery was dreary. Dorian Vale, the newly appointed head of the department, decided to personally check the footage from the security cameras installed in the blood lab. He was tormented by the thought of missing packets—bags containing valuable material vanishing without a trace. And the funniest thing was that management was turning a blind eye, with the head physician saying, "It's best not to get involved. It'll cost you more. "

He scrolled through the frames until he froze. A familiar figure lit up the screen—it was the same young nurse who always mixed up patient charts and forgot his instruments. The one everyone called "the walking disaster. "

Dorian pressed rewind, expecting to see the boy simply drop the bags on the floor. But what he saw made him lean forward. The nurse, with a hideous, animalistic greed, tore open the package, raised the bag of blood to his face, and, without stopping, bit into it. Blood splattered his chin, his white uniform, his hands... He drank like an animal, making strange, rumbling sounds, gradually calming down.

Dorian narrowed his eyes. His fingers pressed the rewind button, and a thought appeared on his lips, curled into a slight smile:

"So that's who's screwing up," he whispered in the empty office, looking at the nurse drinking blood. "Come here, my dear. We're going to have a long talk. And maybe more than one."