Haa…
A whisper of breath.
Cold air brushed the back of Takakai's neck.
It felt like someone was pressed against his back, their face hovering just behind his ear, exhaling softly.
Hallucination?
Or something real?
The darkness was absolute.
No light. No shapes. Just endless black.
Splash—splash—
His footsteps through the water were the only sound.
Yet the breathing behind him never faltered.
How far have I gone?
The chill on his neck intensified.
Then—his shin bumped into something floating.
Large but light. It swayed at his touch, and for a moment, he thought he felt fingers graze his calf.
He ignored it.
Kept moving.
Splash—splash—
His hand trailed the damp wall.
His legs pushed through the icy water.
How long is this hallway?
When will it end?
Irritation prickled under his skin.
Each inhale felt like swallowing liquid nitrogen, freezing his throat.
Splash—splash—
This time, something passed him.
Close enough to brush shoulders, yet silent except for footsteps.
Takakai didn't react.
He reached for the wall again—
And touched nothing.
Just air.
Haa…
Another icy exhale against his nape.
Blindly, he groped sideways until his fingers found the corner of the hallway.
A turn?
The apartment's layout was warped—far more sprawling than the second floor's.
Had he walked for a full minute? Or was the darkness distorting his sense of time?
No matter.
He had to reach Room 109.
The place Xu Sheng warned about.
The place tied to Sánchez, the killer who doomed the survivors.
The place old-timers like Old Guo would risk everything to find.
What's waiting there?
Splash—splash—
He rounded the corner.
The breathing behind him stopped.
Gave up?
Just as the rules said: Ignore the anomalies, and they won't harm you.
His hand found the front door's handle.
Locked.
A twist—click.
He pushed it open slightly.
Then, carefully, he felt the door's surface:
Rust.
Deep scratches (claw marks?).
Finally, the room number: 106.
The counterpart to 206.
Room 109 should be… second door on the right.
He stepped forward—
Tug. Tug. Tug.
The rope at his waist jerked three times.
Kaguya and Maki's signal: 30 minutes elapsed.
Takakai responded with two pulls, then turned back.
Team rules first.
He'd return for 109 later.
One step into the hallway—
Thud.
He collided with something tall (1.75m?), bulky, clad in thick fabric.
No sound. No movement.
He sidestepped—
Thud.
Another. Taller this time (1.8m?).
Then a third. A fourth.
Soon, he was squeezing between them, a gauntlet of motionless figures.
Outside, the stairwell erupted with noise:
Struggling.
Fighting.
Screams muffled by walls.
Takakai didn't look.
He wove through the silent crowd, back to the living room's dim glow.
From the sofa, something lifted its head to watch him.
He didn't meet its gaze.
Just shut the hallway door without looking back and headed for the kitchen.
The Trap
Beneath the hole, he looked up at Maki's face.
"I'm Takakai. I'm not a resident of Shirakawa Apartments. I'm a player trapped here, trying to escape the Sacrifice Game—"
The prearranged passphrase spilled out.
(Their safeguard: Only outsiders would deny being residents.)
Maki nodded, satisfied. "Code confirmed. He's clean."
Kaguya's voice followed: "Ready to come up?"
"Yes."
The reply left his lips before he realized—
That wasn't Kaguya.
The second voice had come from in front of him, not above.
"Kai-kun?"
Maki's confusion echoed down.
But Takakai was already backpedaling as the kitchen's water rippled unnaturally.