[Crack—]
It sounded like something had shattered.
Takumi turned his head instinctively—and saw that frozen male corpse, and beside it, the girl who had likewise turned into a frozen corpse.
In that moment, the two figures passed together through an open doorway—and vanished.
The corpse that had manifested within the room had projected its own death upon Maki, who had become the current owner of that room—then taken her away as it disappeared.
Could it be… it was taking her back to Room 208?
If that was the case, then the rule stating that it was safest to stay in "one's own room" at night—and that all other places were dangerous—was this what it truly meant?
When a room's owner remained inside their own room, the corpse within it served as a form of protection.
But once they left, that same corpse would hunt them down—and in the process, display a deadly supernatural power to kill its owner?
There was no way to verify these thoughts anymore.
In his final moments, Takumi simply let his mind wander freely.
What would he see next?
If he opened that door—what would appear behind it?
Takumi's footsteps continued forward.
He felt he was ready to face whatever came.
Until, up ahead, a small figure blocked his path.
[Big Brother, why didn't you come home tonight?]
A child wearing clean, beautiful clothes lifted their head and asked innocently.
A child…?
Takumi's steps slowly came to a stop.
The laughter echoed beside his ears.
Was that… a child?
A child dressed in clean, pretty clothes.
Giggling and laughing.
Eating sweet, sugary cake.
Holding beautiful toys.
Standing before him, laughing—laughing children.
[Those who don't go home at night are bad children, you know. Bad, unlovable children.]
Laughter from children sounded right beside him.
In the dimly lit corridor, Takumi slowly turned his head—and saw a small child running past him.
A child?
He couldn't see their faces clearly.
They just kept laughing.
Laughing so happily, so blissfully.
One after another, those laughing children came running out.
[Those who don't go home are bad children.]
The voice echoed in his mind.
[Those who don't go home are bad children, you know.]
They laughed and giggled.
[Big Brother is a bad child—a bad child!]
Clapping their hands, jumping cheerfully.
One after another, the children surrounded him.
Lifting their faces, looking up at him—and letting Takumi see their appearances: one adorable child after another.
[Bad children must be punished, you know.]
He fell.
Fell amid that chorus of laughter.
The children's faces were smiling—no, were they really smiling?
Or had there never been any expression at all?
His left hand began to throb in pain again.
But somehow… it wasn't truly unbearable.
It didn't really hurt that much.
No… that's not right…
Takumi forced his eyes wide open, trying to see everything before him clearly.
Darkness.
Pitch-black darkness where he couldn't see his own hand.
He reached out—and touched only a wall.
In front, behind, to the left, to the right, below, above—walls, all walls, pressing so close against his body that he couldn't move.
'Why am I here?'
'Wasn't I supposed to be going somewhere?'
'What did I see?'
He couldn't recall any specific scene—only the sound of children's happy laughter.
Laughing as they spoke—saying…
[Bad children must be punished, you know.]
[Splash—]
Water fell onto Takumi's shoulders.
"Ugh—ah!"
The searing pain made him cry out involuntarily.
Scalding water soaked through his clothes, blistering his skin.
"Ahahahaha—"
The children clapped their hands and laughed.
[Splash—]
More boiling water poured down from above, drenching Takumi completely.
"Uaaaahhh!"
Agony.
Struggling.
But there was nowhere to break free.
In this sealed, lightless space, he couldn't find anywhere to hide.
[Splash—]
Even more boiling water came raining down.
"Ahahahahahahaha—"
More and more children began to laugh.
[Splash—]
The children started singing.
[Splash—]
The children began to dance.
[Splash—]
Round and round they spun, spinning as they laughed and giggled around the punished bad child.
Splashing water began to flow outward.
Hair flowed out with it.
Skin flowed out with it.
Flesh and fat flowed out with it.
[Gurgle—]
Inside the little box filled with boiling water, no cries could be heard anymore.
The tiny person submerged in the scalding water slowly floated up.
"Heeheehee—hahahahaha—"
The laughing children giggled and hopped away.
Were there still bad children who hadn't gone home tonight?
"Hahaha—"
"Hahahahahahaha—~"
The laughing children had already gone far away.
And the punished bad child simply floated in silence.
[Click—click—]
Something seemed to be quietly sounding again.
[Click—click—]
On the arm where the skin and flesh had been boiled and rotted, the black wristwatch trembled faintly.
[Click—click—]
That single hand suddenly began to twitch.
From the zero mark.
From that unmoving mark it had stayed on all this time—it slowly began to move.
Amid the dark-red liquid, within the blood-colored water in which it was soaked, it finally began to move forward.
[Click!]
A crisp sound fell abruptly.
The black wristwatch's hand moved—from 0 to 1.
...
Where… is this place?
The last thing in memory was endless pain, despair so deep it nearly drove him insane.
And when the pain ended, what he felt was an endless fall—plunging through infinite darkness toward some unknown bottom.
Until his body touched something.
Perhaps the ground?
Perhaps another nightmare?
Until consciousness once again awoke from the chaos.
Until his eyes opened once more, looking around.
What he saw was a brightly lit city.
Pedestrians coming and going along the streets, wearing all sorts of clothes, showing all kinds of expressions.
Cars passed silently, stopping or moving at the traffic lights.
Tall billboards flashed with colorful lights, casting a faintly dreamlike glow.
Under the night sky, everything appeared perfectly orderly.
It seemed to be a prosperous city—an ordinary, bustling metropolis with nothing particularly special about it.
Only… there was no sound.
Standing at the center of the city square, Takumi could not hear a thing.
He opened his mouth, smiling and speaking.
Headlights flashed—perhaps there were honks too?
The images on the advertisements kept changing—perhaps sounds accompanied them?
But Takumi could hear none of it.
This was a silent city.
A city so silent it was almost lifeless—
A city without a single sound.
Where on earth… was this place?
Why… why can't I hear any sound?
"Ah…"
In his hazy consciousness, Takumi instinctively let out a sound.
It was so clear—he could distinctly hear his own voice.
And thus he understood: he could still hear sounds.
He just couldn't hear the sound of this city. That was all.
[…]
Every person on the street had stopped walking.
All the cars in motion froze in place at that very moment.
Even the figures on the billboards halted mid-motion, one after another turning their heads toward him.
"This isn't a city…"
Murmuring to himself as he slowly regained clarity, Takumi looked around once more.
Corpses covered the ground. Their terrified expressions had not yet stiffened, but the dark red of blood already blanketed the streets.
That crimson color gradually spread across the sky, as though the heavens were reflecting the ground's hue—diffusing that reeking scarlet glow far and wide.
The shattered city was burning. Amid the ruins, not a single sound of life's struggle remained.
The vitality of this place had long been severed.
Everything had already been offered in sacrifice.
Everything was already over.
Everything had already ended.
They were merely… waiting for their next target.
[DONG!]
A crisp toll rang out from one side of this deathly still city.
Takumi raised his head toward the source and saw a massive clock tower—its pitch-black hand slowly moving from the position of twelve to point at one.
In that instant, Takumi suddenly felt something being stripped away from him. It was as though something that had originally belonged to him—like fingers and eyes, like heart and veins—no longer wholly belonged to him from that moment on.
[DOONG!]
With the second clear toll, Takumi reached out and gently covered his ears.
He gradually began to understand.
He understood what was happening to him—understood what he was about to face.
"Eleven… left, huh?"
Before that hand reached its end, he was still permitted to live eleven more lives.
So that's how it is—so that's what it means.
Even if he died, he could return again.
Even if everything was beyond saving, he could still overturn it all and start anew.
With eleven chances remaining—before the number reached zero, before the clock hand completed its circle—he still had eleven opportunities to topple everything and begin again.
And when he exhausted all of them, this phantasmal, eerie city would no longer be an illusion—it would become the tomb that trapped him forever, never again granting him the chance to escape, his final destination.
[DOOONG!]
The third chime resounded, loud and clear.
And Takumi had already lifted his head, looking around—at the people who once again began to walk about as though still alive; at this city of unknown location that had in fact long since perished, yet continued pretending to live.
"So after all that, my so-called protagonist cheat only activates after I die once?"
Takumi let out a quiet laugh.
He had struggled desperately for so long, only to meet an unavoidable total-annihilation ending.
And yet, in that final moment, he welcomed the chance to start over.
"What the hell—don't you think this kind of plot twist is awfully cliché?"
"To be honest, I really don't like these desperate-turnaround stories… but since it's happening to me, I guess I'll gladly accept it."
"After all, even a cruel hope is still hope."