**Chapter 9: The Whispering Vent**

The rustling sound grew louder, and I felt a chill run down my spine as I stared at the air vent. Dr. Lee's eyes were fixed on it too, her face pale. I could see the fear rising in her chest, and I knew I had to act fast. Without a word, I grabbed Dr. Lee's arm and pulled her back into the hospital room. The nurse looked up from Tokyo's bedside, concern etched on her face. "What's wrong?" she asked. I didn't answer. Instead, I strode over to the air vent and peered up into it. The rustling sound was coming from inside, and it was getting louder by the second. I could feel a presence lurking just out of sight, watching us. Dr. Lee followed me, her eyes wide with fear. "What is it?" she whispered. I turned to her, my voice low. "I think someone's in the vent," I said. The nurse's eyes went wide. "That's impossible," she said. "The vents are sealed. No one can get in there." I didn't argue. I knew what I had heard, and I knew what I had seen. The rustling sound was getting louder, and I could feel the air in the room growing thick with tension. Suddenly, the vent cover rattled and shook. The rustling sound stopped, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, a piece of paper dropped down from the vent, floating gently to the floor. I picked it up, my heart racing. On the paper was a single sentence, scrawled in red ink: "They're watching her. They're always watching." I looked up at Dr. Lee and the nurse. They were staring at me, their faces pale. I knew that we had to get out of there, and fast. "We have to move Tokyo," I said, my voice firm. "Now." Dr. Lee nodded, and together, we quickly disconnected Tokyo's IV lines and prepared her for transport. The nurse helped us, her movements swift and efficient. As we wheeled Tokyo out of the room, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being herded, that someone was manipulating us from behind the scenes. The hospital corridors seemed to stretch out before us like a maze, and I knew that we had to navigate them carefully if we were going to keep Tokyo safe. We turned a corner, and I caught a glimpse of a hospital security guard standing at the end of the corridor. I quickened my pace, my heart pounding in my chest. I had to get Tokyo to safety, and I had to do it now. But as we approached the guard, I realized that something was off. He was staring straight ahead, his eyes blank and unresponsive. And on his chest, a small piece of paper was pinned, with a single sentence scrawled on it: "I've been watching."