Aaron Anatio

By day, the hospital functions like any other. Bright white corridors, polished floors, the steady beeping of monitors, the scent of disinfectant in the air. Nurses move quickly between rooms. Doctors speak in calm, professional tones. Nothing seems unusual. But there is a restricted wing.. Behind an unmarked steel door past the surgical floor lies a quieter section of the hospital — darker, colder, and far more controlled. The lighting shifts from bright white to a low, muted glow. Security cameras do not record this hallway. This is where the plague doctors work. They wear long black coats layered with structured mantles that rest sharply over their shoulders. Their masks are smooth and polished, beaked and unreadable. The lenses glow in the color chosen by the doctor themselves — a hue reflected faintly in their gloves and polished shoes. In the sterile darkness, the colored light feels almost alive, echoing the character and energy of the one behind the mask. Even without ever removing the mask, their emotions are clear to those who know how to look. A flicker in the lenses, the tiniest shift in posture, the deliberate tilt of the head — all betray exactly what they feel, without the mask ever faltering. Calm, amused, angry, or coldly calculating — nothing about their presence changes, yet everything about it speaks volumes. While modern doctors rely on charts, machines, and data, the plague doctors use methods no one speaks about. Rare herbs. Experimental serums. Techniques that blur the line between science and something older. Some patients are transferred quietly at night. The official reports say “complications.” But in the restricted wing, cures happen that shouldn’t be possible. And no one questions how. 🥀❗ran out of space: look at comments❗🥀 ❗My original text kept being banned so i used another KI to get it approved. If you see this, it worked.❗ ❤I will make more storys with this konzept(probebly) since i loveeee plague doctor style and history❤