Consciousness grew muddled once more.
Faintly, he remembered drawing his pistol and pulling the trigger at something.
He couldn't recall when or where he had fired.
Nor could he remember what he had encountered, or what had happened after that confrontation.
How many shots had he fired?
One… no, maybe two?
With the first shot, he could still feel the gun firmly gripped in his hand.
But by the second shot… something had changed. In that instant, something unforeseen had occurred.
He never got to fire a third shot.
In fact, before the second shot had fully discharged, the gun seemed to slip from his grasp. Only the lingering connection between his consciousness and the weapon allowed him to complete the second trigger pull.
By the time he tried for a third shot, it was already too late.
Two suppression rounds weren't enough to halt that thing's movements—only delaying it by less than a tenth of a second, a span so brief even he, the shooter, barely registered it.
Then, he could no longer hold the gun. Nor could he even convey the intent to fire.
What the hell was happening?
What was that thing…?
No… wait… Where am I now…?
He felt his body being dragged.
Felt rope winding around his ankles.
Felt himself hoisted upside-down into the air.
Zzzzt—zzzzt—
A bloodstained blade scraped against a whetstone.
The firefighter lay collapsed on the ground nearby, his body rapidly dissolving into nothingness.
A stench spread through the air.
The reek of blood. Of decay. A nauseating cocktail of excrement and rotting slop.
His vision began to return, senses sluggishly rebooting.
Then, he saw the approaching footsteps.
Takakai couldn't make out the thing's exact form.
Perhaps it hadn't always been like this. Once, when it was still alive, before it became this, maybe it had been an ordinary person. Someone with slightly eccentric hobbies but not inherently malicious, just living a mundane life.
But that had nothing to do with what it was now.
Thick darkness clung to its body. Filthy bloodstains and grime coated its burly, apron-clad frame.
The stench radiated from the monster. Staring at it, Takakai could almost see slight visual distortions flickering across its body and clothes before snapping back to normal—as if it were just an illusion.
Whispers surrounded it, rising from its massive form. The sound of children murmuring, or perhaps inhuman curses. Whatever it was, it had long since fused with the entity, shaping what it had become.
Where its face should have been, black, scribble-like lines now coiled like snakes. Though the scribbles appeared two-dimensional, they obscured its head from every angle, leaving only a few stray strands of gray-black hair visible.
And in that moment, Takakai understood its nature.
This was a composite ayakashi.
The human it once was had died, transforming into a cursed entity.
The fictional version conjured by children's imaginations had also "lived"—and likewise became a cursed entity.
Now, the two had merged into a single grotesque being.
Analyzing just one of its components would be useless. To maximize the suppression rounds' effectiveness, he'd need to decipher both origins—their histories, their rules—to fully seal them away.
Only now did he realize this.
And now… it was probably too late.
Squelch.
The blade plunged into his body.
His hazy consciousness sharpened abruptly.
Takakai felt the knife pierce his fur, slicing open a long, bleeding gash.
Rubber-gloved hands, stained with grime, reached into the wound, gripped the edges of the pelt, and ripped.
Blood quickly smeared over his vision.
Through the agony, he glimpsed the towering figure peeling a mangy dog pelt off him.
A dog pelt… Me?
Is this what happens the second time you turn into a dog? Or is there still something I'm not understanding…?
He tried to think, but his current state had dulled his mind. Complex reasoning was beyond him now. Even remembering the ayakashi's dual nature was a struggle.
Only the pain remained vivid. Unrelenting.
Drip—drip—
Amid the pooling blood, the intact dog pelt was tossed aside. The caged mutts shivered silently, too terrified to whimper.
Then Takakai felt his throat slit.
More blood gushed from the wound.
"..."
No scream escaped.
Suffocation. The agony of torn flesh. It all seared through his nerves.
Yet the blade didn't stop.
It carved downward, splitting his chest to his stomach.
Hands reached in.
Pulled out his intestines.
His liver.
His lungs.
His stomach.
His heart.
Every organ was scooped out, leaving him hollow.
He could feel it all—the slow, methodical dismantling of his insides.
Strangely, even after removal, his organs remained connected to him, still alive, rather than rotting away.
What… was this…?
♫ Hmm-hmm~ hmm-hmm~ ♫
The thing was humming. Almost cheerfully.
Takakai felt himself placed on a cutting board.
A flash of steel.
Thud!
A violent tremor as his body was dismembered.
Thud—thud—
Over and over, the cleaver came down, hacking through the small dog on the board, embedding itself into the wood each time.
Then, fingers pinched a piece of meat.
The man wasn't meticulous about cleaning his ingredients. No blanching—just straight into the boiling pot.
One piece.
Two pieces.
Legs chopped into thirds.
Front paws…
Finally, Takakai's severed head was lifted toward the bubbling water.
He could feel his butchered body already inside the pot, scalding in the heat.
And he could hear voices.
The wails of children rising from the broth.
The muffled cries of more children—and adults—echoing from the thing's stomach. Faint, indistinct, yet unmistakable.
Then, just before his head was dropped into the water—
His eyelids had been torn off, but his exposed eyes saw what churned below.
Puppy parts, swirling in the boil.
Children's chopped limbs, still writhing in agony.
And Kaguya.
And Hayasaka.
At last, he saw the golden-haired girl—or what remained of her.
Her skull split open.
Her body minced beyond recognition.
She and the others hadn't died. They floated in the soup, trapped in an endless torment.
…Ah.
Even with his crumbling mind, Takakai understood.
Like in Little Red Riding Hood, where cutting open the wolf's belly could restore Grandma unharmed…
In fairy tales, even irreversible acts could be undone. Reality didn't apply. In children's imaginations, the devoured could still live inside the beast. So even as players were turned into dogs, chopped up, boiled, chewed, and swallowed—they wouldn't die.
But here, there was no hunter to slice open the wolf's stomach.
No happy ending where everything could be fixed.
It was enough.
Takakai wanted to close his eyes, but he no longer could.
He couldn't control his body. Couldn't activate his Blessings. Couldn't do anything.
But there was one way to end this.
One way to reset everything.
He'd done it before. He'd prepared for this.
{Request: Activate self-termination protocol.}
Perhaps because it wasn't his first time, Takakai found himself eerily calm.
Even as his body was flayed, shredded, boiled—he remained composed.
Even with his mind deteriorating, he didn't panic.
Maybe… this pain just didn't faze him anymore.
55 seconds… 54 seconds…
His vision submerged in boiling water.
35 seconds… 30 seconds…
His meaty fragments swirled in the pot, mixing with the others until they were indistinguishable.
15 seconds… 10 seconds…
A grimy ladle stirred the soup. The towering figure hummed as it sprinkled in seasonings.
Takakai had heard enough screaming.
Enough suffering.
He counted down the final seconds.
And in these last moments, he realized his critical oversight.
The [Observation Room].
The one with no light.
He'd needed a flashlight to see inside—meaning the room itself had no light source.
So when he'd peered through the window and seen Kaguya in the classroom…
That should have been impossible.
Human sight required light. If he could see the classroom through the window, then light from the classroom had to be entering the Observation Room.
Yet the Observation Room had been pitch black.
Meaning the window was fake.
The "Kaguya" he'd seen was already [Kurokko] in disguise.
And when he'd later seen two Kaguyas, it was because his perception had been compromised from the start.
As for how the real Kaguya had seen a fake "Takakai," leading to the [Kurokko] versions of them both appearing in the classroom—
That was a mystery for the next loop.
2 seconds… 1 second… Zero.
Takakai didn't revoke his request.
So the ayakashi's humming abruptly stopped.
It sensed the anomaly.
It jerked upright, emitting a shrill, distorted shriek—like a chorus of children screaming at once.
Then—
BOOM.
The pot exploded.
Chunks of meat and broth splattered across the room.
Takakai's remains dissolved rapidly.
In the fleeting moment before his consciousness vanished entirely, he saw the monstrous figure wail like a child, overturning tables, collapsing to the ground in a tantrum.
And he saw—
Through the half-open door leading to the kennel—
A small, silent figure standing there.
Watching him with empty eyes.
But Takakai had no time to see more.
Darkness swallowed him.
And in the kitchen, amidst the spilled soup and scattered meat—
A black wristwatch, unnoticed until now (or perhaps always there), trembled slightly.
Its hand ticked forward.
From 0 to 1.
Click.