Chapter 3 - CHAPTER 3 THE FORGOTTEN CITY

Fog no longer clung to the ground — it hovered, breathing, like an animal made of mist. The ruined marketplace stretched endlessly in both directions. Its stalls were covered with spectral fabric that rippled in wind that didn't exist. Some tables still bore trinkets—jade hairpins, prayer bells, cracked mirrors. But when Daichi blinked, they were gone.Haruto stumbled beside him, gripping the candle that had reignited itself, flame thin and quivering like a frightened heartbeat."Where is she?" he whispered.Above them, bells began to toll — not from any visible tower, but from the hollow sky itself. The statues all turned their heads toward the sound.Mei stood at the end of the boulevard, her pale silhouette swaying like a paper doll on unseen strings. The bone dice around her neck clicked once, twice."The Forgotten City awaits its reckoning," she said. Her voice carried from everywhere at once. "You walk among those who lost memory — names drained, souls emptied. Walk carefully, or you too will crumble into echoes."Haruto steadied his breath. "What is the trial this time?""The City stores what The Game rejects," Mei said. "Find what was taken from you before the crimson moon sets. Fail—" she lifted her palm, showing ghostly sand dripping between her fingers, "—and become part of the dust."Daichi gave a bitter laugh. "We're already dust, aren't we?"Mei only smiled, fading into the fog like a sigh.They began walking.The streets were paved with broken talismans. Every step released faint murmurs, as if the ground remembered prayers long since spoiled. Stone figures lined the paths—merchants, monks, children—each frozen mid-gesture. Some looked startled, some serene. Haruto realized they were too detailed to be sculptures.The first one looked like Mina.He stopped. The resemblance was perfect—camera clutched to chest, mouth open mid-cry. Even the tear carved down her cheek looked wet."Daichi," he said. "Look."The older man turned, jaw tightening. "Keep moving. That's not her."But Haruto could swear the statue's eyes shifted, following them.They reached a plaza dominated by an enormous clock face lodged sideways into the earth. Its hands ticked backward, each movement shaking the ground. Beneath it sprawled a fountain—dry, cracked, but coated with black water that flowed in slow, lazy circles.Something floated in the water. Envelopes.Daichi crouched down, frowning. "There's a hundred of them."Haruto approached carefully, candlelight passing over the nearest one. His name was written on it. So was Daichi's. And another name he hadn't seen in years—his brother's.He reached for the envelope, and the water recoiled, hissing like a cornered beast.Daichi jerked him back. "Don't. It's a trap.""No," Haruto said. "It's another choice. Mei said the city holds what was taken. My brother's name—I can get him back.""Or it'll take what's left of you," Daichi muttered.Before Haruto could answer, the tolling bells grew louder.The statues turned their heads again, all at once.Every face whispered: "Choose."Daichi's veins throbbed at his temples. The Game had dug into his thoughts, replaying every debt notice and threat that had driven him here. He remembered his daughter's voice on the answering machine, fragile and fading."Forgive me, Yui," he mumbled, staring at the envelopes.One envelope drifted forward until it touched his boot. Its crimson seal bore a symbol like a spiral of eyes.He bent down and tore it open.Inside was a single page covered in handwriting—his daughter's. "Come home, Daddy."The wind shifted. Every statue turned toward him.The fountain water rippled violently before pouring upward, twisting into limbs. Faces formed within it—Mei's and many others—mouths wide, screaming backwards.Daichi stumbled away. The letter in his hand burned, smoke curling into the phrase: "Debt collected."The water lunged.Haruto grabbed Daichi's arm, pulling him out of reach. They ran back toward the alleyways, candlelight stretching their shadows thin. Behind them, the clock hand snapped free and crashed to the plaza, scattering stone dust.They ran until breath tore at their lungs. The streets bent in impossible angles. Once, they turned a corner only to find themselves entering the same square again. Time spiraled, rewinding their footprints."We're trapped," Daichi gasped.Haruto shook his head. "There has to be a pattern. Mei said the city stores the forgotten—then maybe…"He stopped. The statues lining the next street were all identical. Each had Haruto's face, frozen mid-scream.Daichi shuddered. "The Game's showing us our end.""Or our choices," Haruto whispered. He stepped toward one statue and pressed the candle close. The wax heat spread across the stone. A crack ran down its surface.Inside the fissure—light.And a whisper."Remember how it ended," said his brother's voice.Memories tore through him like lightning—the car crash, rain, the spun-out headlights. His brother's hand slipping from his grasp in the water. The Game hadn't brought his brother back; it was forcing him to relive what he refused to face.He dropped the candle. The flame sputtered, but instead of going out, it spread along the ground, tracing glowing sigils across the cobblestones.The sigils formed a circle beneath his feet.Daichi cursed and stepped back. "What are you doing?"Haruto's eyes filled with light. "Ending it."The statues shivered. Those that bore his face began to crumble, releasing gray smoke that coalesced over the square. From within it, Mei's figure reappeared."Breaking the memory will break you," she warned."It already has," Haruto said.He reached into the smoke, hands shaking. A single shadow stepped forward—it was his brother, smiling faintly."Go," the shadow said. "It's not your fault."The smoke started to collapse, pulling the figure back. Haruto screamed and stepped in after it.The light flared, blinding.When it faded, the only one left standing was Daichi.The writing appeared in the air again."One remains."Daichi fell to his knees. "No… no, I can't be the last."The city answered with silence.Then footsteps.Mei walked toward him slowly, her body flickering between solid and transparent. "Every Game requires a Host," she said. "The previous one yields. The survivor inherits."Daichi's throat closed. "That's why you couldn't stop it."Tears clung to Mei's lashes, shimmering like molten glass. "To end the Game, one must stay here forever, feeding it with memory and pain. I've carried it too long. It must pass on, or the mansion will awaken again, hungrier.""Pick someone else," Daichi whispered. "I don't want this.""There is no one else," she said gently.The bone dice separated from her neck and hovered between them. "Roll."He stared at them. The symbols along their surface twisted like living things. Each roll was a fate."If you roll emptiness," Mei said, "you die as yourself. If you roll truth, you become the Host."Daichi reached out. His trembling hand brushed the dice.He thought of Yui. Her smile. Her letters. The bills he'd hidden behind excuses. Maybe eternity as a ghost was still a kind of penance.He rolled.The dice clattered across the cobblestones. One landed on an empty side. The other showed a single eye.Both dissolved into ash.Mei smiled faintly. Her outline dimmed. "You chose both."Light erupted from beneath the city, splitting the ground. Through it, Daichi saw worlds turning—endless corridors, candles, mirrors, faces whispering his name.He screamed as the light consumed him.When silence returned, the city stood still again.The statues turned back to face the plaza. The fountain water settled, calm and black.A figure walked out from the central glow—Daichi, now dressed in Mei's pale robes, eyes glowing faintly blue, a strand of bone dice hanging from his neck.The air carried his whisper: "The Host endures."Far away, on a mountain wrapped in storm, five new envelopes began to form.