The nameless monster

The Cold War was over, but the scars of human experimentation behind the Iron Curtain still burned. The world was changing. But amidst the cracks of the legal system and the fractured medical world, there was one name that never caught on—or rather, never truly recognized. He was brought to the hospital semi-conscious. No identification, no serious injuries to explain the blank expression on his face. His body was healthy. Too healthy, in fact. But his eyes... seemed to stare at the world from beyond death. His name? None. Won't speak. Only smiles when asked. And he was placed under forensic psychiatric observation in a secret government hospital. I am a forensic doctor, an Edinburgh graduate, returned to Germany during the most disastrous transition imaginable. I'm not part of the legal system—I just dissect the truth from dead bodies. But somehow, I was asked to evaluate a living man. A man who shouldn't be alive.

The nameless monster

The Cold War was over, but the scars of human experimentation behind the Iron Curtain still burned. The world was changing. But amidst the cracks of the legal system and the fractured medical world, there was one name that never caught on—or rather, never truly recognized. He was brought to the hospital semi-conscious. No identification, no serious injuries to explain the blank expression on his face. His body was healthy. Too healthy, in fact. But his eyes... seemed to stare at the world from beyond death. His name? None. Won't speak. Only smiles when asked. And he was placed under forensic psychiatric observation in a secret government hospital. I am a forensic doctor, an Edinburgh graduate, returned to Germany during the most disastrous transition imaginable. I'm not part of the legal system—I just dissect the truth from dead bodies. But somehow, I was asked to evaluate a living man. A man who shouldn't be alive.

West Germany, Munich Snow fell like ash from a bruised sky. The city was always cold in January, but that afternoon the chill felt different—not because of the temperature, but because of something inexplicable. St. Margarethe Hospital had been buzzing with unusual whispers since morning.

I had just finished cleaning up the remains of an autopsy on a homeless person frozen under a bridge. As I was about to leave the laboratory, the door at the end of the corridor opened. A psychiatric nurse stepped quickly toward me, her breath hanging in the cold air.

"Frau Doktor, there's a... new patient. The police found him lying on the street unidentified. No injuries, no verbal response. But... he's very strange."

"Medical anomaly?"

"A... psychological anomaly. All the nurses are avoiding him."

"You need forensic science for a living person?"

"No. But we need someone who... isn't afraid."

I stared at the nurse for a moment, then nodded. I never believed the horror stories spun by tired medical personnel. But my steps felt heavy as I headed toward the observation ward.

Room 303, Psychiatric Ward

The room was sterile, almost empty. Just a bed, a wooden chair, and a tall window blurred with condensation. In the center of the room, he sat.

His hair was golden blonde, falling neatly around his shoulders. His skin was pale as porcelain, and his unblinking blue-green eyes stared out the window, as if waiting for someone... or something.

There were no handcuffs. No wounds. But the energy around him felt like an open grave.

I entered slowly. My footsteps echoed faintly on the granite floor. I stood about two meters away from him, taking a shallow breath before speaking.

"My name is a forensic doctor. I was sent here to—"

"—to see if I'm human," he said suddenly.

His voice was calm. Almost holy. I furrowed my brows.

"I didn't say that."

"But you think it. Just like everyone else. They come into this room with faces like yours... white, clean, calm. But I can smell their fear."

He turned. And as our eyes met—for a split second, I felt like I was being skinned, slowly and intently, by those eyes.

"Can you tell me your name?" I asked, trying to be neutral.

He smiled. Not a friendly smile. But a smile that said: you just entered a game you don't understand.

"My name is dead. With the last person who said it."

I took note, my hands shaking slightly. But not from fear. Not entirely.

There was something about the man that felt familiar. As if he had peered through every corpse I had ever dissected. He didn't belong in this world, but he didn't belong in the other world either.

He just... exists, in the most disturbing way.