Chapter One: Patient Zero

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My name is Patient Zero.

I discovered that I am an NPC.

——

I once thought I was the protagonist, like the main character in novels such as "Dreaming of the Apocalypse Every Night," "Infinity in Dreams," or "Leave That Earth to Me."

If someone often dreams at night of being in another world undergoing an apocalypse, and no matter how long they stay there, only a single night passes when they wake up, I suppose they'd come to the same conclusion I did.

With a strange sense of superiority, I eagerly participated in saving these worlds teetering on the brink of destruction. As expected, by following various clues, I discovered their prototypes: so far, the worlds I could clearly identify included "After Tomorrow," "I Am Legend," "Resident Evil," "2012," "Rise of the Planet of the Apes," and so on.

If I had any complaints, it would be that my so-called cheat was too weak; its only function was to "wake me up" whenever I encountered certain death, and the next time I dreamed, I would return to a time before that fatal event.

As for missions, upgrades, exchanges, or bringing back the results of training or items to reality—none of those features existed. I even doubted whether the cheat was real at all.

Although at first things were a bit rough and I woke up startled more than once, thanks to my relentless "save scumming," I eventually managed to rescue those worlds. It felt a bit like the movie "Edge of Tomorrow."

Since nothing could be brought back, the adventures yielded zero tangible rewards. If anything, my ability to appreciate disaster films had improved considerably.

As for accumulating experience in saving apocalyptic worlds…

Well, the real world is perfectly normal. That sort of thing would never happen here.

——

One weekend morning, having once again dreamed of a particularly difficult-to-save apocalyptic world, I lingered in bed a little longer.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a large red balloon floating in front of me, with a play button symbol on it.

Could some mischievous child have snuck into my home?

Instinctively, I reached out to push it, and with a pop, it burst.

[Notice: 'PAX-200' has infected Patient Zero in Country C. As it is still unstable, please use DNA points to evolve it and infect more people as soon as possible.]

In my mind—no, inside my head—a mechanical female voice resounded.

What was that—

Before I could make sense of the situation, I saw my outstretched hand turn red, a ring of red outline appearing as if rendered by animation, followed by a "ding!" sound reminiscent of Mario collecting a coin.

Judging from certain keywords, this seemed to be a biological virus apocalypse…

So why did it come out of my dream!

No, wait, that was a system prompt just now. Does that mean the useless cheat is finally usable?

"System!" I called out to where the balloon had been.

There was no response.

"Evolve! Query DNA points!" I tried shouting the relevant terms I'd just heard.

The room remained silent, but from the hallway outside came the click of high heels.

"What are you yelling about? People will think our family has a crazy daughter," my mother said, pushing open the door.

"Uh, I had a nightmare," I replied, hiding under the covers and pretending to be groggy, all the while thinking how to stop this "PAX-200" thing from spreading.

"Oh? Even you get scared by nightmares?" she said, pulling off the blanket and placing her hand on my forehead.

Wait! Though you do this out of habit, today is different!

Ding.

As expected, when my mother touched my arm, it instantly turned red, and a ring of red outline appeared around her as well.

"Doesn't seem like you have a fever. Since you're awake, come down for breakfast," she said, showing no awareness of the red, and left, closing the door behind her.

This is bad. I need a plan. Based on experience—wait, since it's the weekend, Dad and my brother should be home too?

[Notice: 'PAX-200' has successfully evolved 'Airborne Transmission.']

With that prompt, I heard two faint dings from downstairs.

Given the population density here, airborne transmission is the most convenient. I need to come up with an excuse to keep them all home today.

But who is controlling this evolution?

I looked at the faint red glow on my arm and began to question myself.

Question: If you can hear system prompts but the system ignores you, why?

Answer: Insufficient permissions, energy, points, or something similar.

Another question: If the system doesn't respond to you but acts on its own, why?

Another answer: Someone else is controlling it, with higher privileges.

Final question: With a system in place, why are you forced to experience inescapable disasters?

Final answer: You're just an NPC needed for the plot.

I put a hand to my forehead… So what am I supposed to do now? Keep smiling and say, "Hello world"?

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"Not eating, I have plans with classmates this morning—" came my brother's voice from downstairs, a little hoarse from puberty but still full of energy. Then the sound of the front door opening.

I turned and pulled back the curtains to see him skateboarding out of the yard, performing little tricks and greeting the neighbors. Meanwhile, the system's dings rang incessantly in my ears.

The neighbors began to turn faintly red at an unbelievable speed—first people, then the street, then the entire house.

It was like a drop of red ink spreading in a freshly filled brush-washing jar.

He's probably entering his rebellious phase, barely listening to me lately. Even if I had an excuse to keep the family inside, he wouldn't obey.

But could this conspicuous spreading behavior be part of the system's design?

If so, was the appearance of the big red balloon before me also scripted?

I really am not the protagonist—just a critical NPC.

——

With my worldview half in ruins, I washed up and stumbled downstairs, staring blankly at the red outlines around my parents. Their words and actions were as usual, but in the dark red backdrop, everything seemed eerily off.

I pondered how to break out of this as I sat down for breakfast, and my parents' conversation confirmed my suspicions.

"I'm going to Japan on a business trip this afternoon." "I'll drive you, and visit my family on the way."

See? Even the directions of the virus's spread are predetermined: abroad and to neighboring provinces.

Come to think of it, in previous dreams, none of those apocalyptic outbreaks began in Country C.

So this end-of-the-world, starting in Country C, is what I thought was reality? How ironic.

In past dreams, I saved plenty of people as an outsider, but when it comes to myself, it's never enough—because I'm the very center of the apocalypse, and thus the least likely to be saved…

Calm down. All those rescues were training for this moment. You can do it, whoever-you-are—

Wait, what was my name again?

"Patient Zero, you're the older sister. You'll take good care of your brother while we're away, won't you?" Dad said to me.

I nodded, deep in thought. "Of course, no problem. If he doesn't behave, I'll show him what it means to have a big sister who's like a second mother."

Wait a minute!

What's my name? Patient Zero?

How did I never notice how ridiculous that was?

In medical terms, "Patient Zero" refers to the first person infected by a disease who begins spreading it. In epidemiology, it's also called the "index case" or "primary case"—the individual responsible for a massive outbreak.

Now that I think about it, what are my parents' names? Their IDs say…

[Patient Zero's Father] [Patient Zero's Mother]

…I can almost hear the sound of my worldview shattering.

——

Soon after, my family set off on what they thought were business trips or vacations—actually missions to spread the virus.

I've basically confirmed that this world was spawned by some poorly made apocalypse game, but I have no memory of it. Of course, it's like how the Harry Potter world wouldn't have J.K. Rowling—she's a dimension above.

Still, I decided to try and salvage the situation, maybe find a doctor.

Because this "PAX-200" did nothing but turn everything red. After evolving to airborne transmission, it just waited to spread worldwide, which meant I might still have a chance.

The problem is, there are no symptoms at all. A doctor won't prescribe anything. Even if I went to the hospital and they detected something, the absence of harm—or even possible benefit—would make it a "probiotic," and common sense dictates not disrupting those.

To get rid of it, I'd have to chug antibiotics—wait, you don't drink those, do you?

Maybe the "player" is waiting for "PAX-200" to cover the planet before suddenly evolving a full set of symptoms… cough, cough.

My throat suddenly itched, and a system prompt appeared:

[Notice: Without using DNA points, 'PAX-200' has spontaneously mutated to produce a 'Cough' symptom.]

Even Patient Zero gets early symptoms?

But this works to my advantage. The phrase "spontaneous mutation" suggests this is a challenge event for the "player," so now's my chance to see a doctor.

I quickly changed clothes and hurried to the clinic at the entrance of my neighborhood.

Our neighborhood consists of standalone mid-rise houses, each with its own yard, a nearby lake, and an artificial hill. It's a lovely place, with comprehensive community services—except for the ridiculous name: [Patient Zero Neighborhood].

Until today, no one had ever complained about that silly name carved into the fake hill. I suppose, like my own name, it’s enforced by some rule. Being an NPC is truly pathetic.

All community services are clustered around the small park near the main gate, every sign bearing the "Patient Zero Neighborhood" prefix. My secondhand embarrassment was off the charts, and I grew increasingly doubtful about the clinic's usefulness.

Come on, "Patient Zero Neighborhood Clinic"!

[National Center for Disease Control and Prevention, Public Health Surveillance Point]

…Huh?

——

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"Cough, cough, cough—"

I thought the sign was already over the top, but entering the clinic gave me a second shock.

"Hmm, looks serious. When did this start?" The doctor, source of my surprise, looked at me and asked.

"Cough, cough—It started this morning. I don't have a fever," I replied, covering my mouth.

Given the reality-breaking events I'd already gone through today, nothing should surprise me, but this was clearly beyond expectation.

This doctor—he wasn't tinged with red at all!

In this world, as if through a red filter, with even the air faintly tinged, only within a meter around him was everything its normal color.

So the Disease Control Center is that powerful? If I reason it out, he must be the main enemy the "player" is supposed to overcome to win.

"Really? Maybe you caught a chill. Your house is right by the artificial lake, after all." The doctor had short, naturally wavy hair, sharp features, and a stern expression. But a pair of oversized black glasses softened his looks.

"Um? Doctor, do you know me?" I struggled to find a way to explain that I'd caught an unknown disease which, though currently only causing a cough, would eventually destroy the world—no normal person would believe that.

"I may sound boastful, but I know just about everyone who lives here, Miss Zero." He gave a slight smile, wrote a prescription, and retrieved medicine from the cabinet. "I suggest you don't take any for now, unless the symptoms grow worse."

So, my surname is Zero and my given name is Patient? If I survive this crisis, I'm definitely changing my name!

[Notice: 'PAX-200' has successfully devolved the 'Cough' symptom. DNA points earned.]

Damn it! The "player" has been watching me since the very beginning!

"What's wrong? Are you feeling worse?" The doctor, returning with medicine, noticed my sudden grimace.

"No, on the contrary, I feel almost cured. Must be the clinic's air," I joked, paid, and took the medicine. Even when I entered the doctor's "immunity zone," the red tint didn't expand further.

Excellent. He must be a key NPC. If symptoms appear, I'll come here to "turn myself in." Even a layperson knows how crucial it is to find the source of an epidemic.

I thanked the doctor and left the clinic.

From here on, I'll just keep an eye on world news and system prompts.

——

[Notice: 'PAX-200' has successfully evolved Drug Resistance.]
[Notice: 'PAX-200' has spread to South America.]
[Notice: 'PAX-200' has successfully evolved Waterborne Transmission.]
[Notice: 'PAX-200' has spread to Africa.]
[Notice: 'PAX-200' has successfully evolved Drought Adaptation.]

As expected, the player had no intention of developing symptoms—just more ways and speed for the virus to spread. I had to get used to a world tinged permanently red and listen to the prompts to track "PAX-200"'s progress.

Occasionally, symptoms would spontaneously mutate, but before I could reach the doctor, the player would quickly devolve them, so I was the only one who suffered.

To ensure I could "report" promptly, I often found excuses to loiter near the clinic, which led to nosy aunties spreading rumors about my supposed crush on the doctor.

"That girl from the Zero family seems sweet on the young man working at the Surveillance Point—the monitor!"

Please! Don’t you feel awkward gossiping like this? The world might as well end!

[Notice: Without using DNA points, 'PAX-200' has spontaneously mutated to produce 'Nausea.']
[Notice: Without using DNA points, 'PAX-200' has spontaneously mutated to produce 'Stomach Bleeding.']

Perhaps because it was close to worldwide spread, symptoms now mutated in pairs, but the player always managed to devolve them in time. As I hurried through the park toward the clinic, clutching my stomach and resigned to fate, I prayed I’d make it in time.

They’d probably be devolved soon, but meanwhile, the pain was all mine…

[Notice: Failed to devolve 'Nausea.' Please devolve advanced symptoms first.]

Wait, previously these were all unrelated symptoms, but this time they’re both digestive system problems?

[Notice: Failed to devolve 'Nausea.' Please devolve advanced symptoms first.]
[Notice: Failed to devolve 'Nausea.' Please devolve advanced symptoms first.]

A chill ran up my spine. This is the infamous "too tired to play games at midnight" state, just like those late-night raids my guild did where everyone ended up sleepwalking.

Time differences between worlds can wait! The most important thing is that I’ve just reached the clinic!

"Bleh!" As soon as I stepped inside, I vomited a large pool of blood on the floor. "Monitor, help me—"

I hope my judgment is correct; unlike a minor cough, a severe "advanced" symptom like this should catch attention.

At that moment, the colorless area around the monitor-doctor, previously no larger than his own body, suddenly expanded to cover the entire clinic.

[Notice: A new infectious disease has been discovered in Country C, named 'PAX-200.']

Before I could even complain about the virus introducing itself, my vision went black and I lost consciousness. In the darkness, I managed a mental sneer.

Ha! You want to play such a dark game? NPCs aren’t so easily bullied, you know!