Chapter Text
The faint, rhythmic creak of machinery greeted them as they descended deeper into the bowels of the Pacific Hotel. The air grew heavier, laden with the scent of oil and metal, and the faint winding noise they had been hearing since entering the hotel now echoed louder, resonating through their bones.
Yosano was the first to notice the shift. “Does anyone else feel like we’re walking into a giant music box?”
Ranpo grinned. “If we are, I hope it’s playing something upbeat. All this tension is bad for my complexion.”
“Keep quiet,” Kunikida snapped, his voice terse. He gripped his notebook tightly, as though its weight could anchor him amidst the unreality of their surroundings.
Andrew, still brushing off dust from his descent into the well, stepped ahead, his sabres sheathed but his hand never far from their hilts. “Whatever we’re walking into, it’s big. That sound isn’t just machinery—it’s alive somehow. Be ready.”
Ryu followed closely, his small frame practically vibrating with unease. “I don’t like this place. It feels...wrong.”
Andrew gave him a reassuring glance. “Stick with us. You’ll be okay.”
The group turned a final corner, and the narrow hallway opened into a vast, cavernous room. It was unlike anything they had seen in the hotel so far. Massive gears, some the size of houses, were embedded in the walls, their teeth locked in a frozen embrace.
Chains hung from the ceiling like iron vines, swaying slightly despite the still air. In the center of the room was a massive pendulum, suspended mid-swing, its polished surface reflecting the flickering light of the machinery.
“Whoa,” Ranpo breathed, his usual sarcasm giving way to genuine wonder. “Now this is something.”
Kunikida’s brow furrowed. “None of it’s moving forward. The gears are turning, but...they’re stuck, looping the same motion over and over.”
Yosano approached the pendulum, her fingers trailing across its surface. “The well was stuck at three minutes to midnight,” she murmured. “And now this. It’s as if time itself is caught in this...mechanism.”
Andrew glanced at Kunikida. “What if this is the source? The thing that’s distorting the hotel and the shadows? If we can figure out how it works—”
“We can end it,” Kunikida finished, nodding. “But tread carefully. Whatever’s powering this room isn’t going to give up without a fight.”
The faint whispers that had plagued them earlier returned, weaving through the clinks and creaks of the machinery. This time, they were clearer, fragmented words brushing against their consciousness.
“Tick... tock... lost... never...”
Ranpo tilted his head, a smirk creeping back onto his face. “Anyone else getting a lecture on existential dread, or is it just me?”
“Ignore it,” Kunikida ordered, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his own discomfort. “Focus on the room. Look for anything out of place.”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Ranpo said, gesturing around. “Everything here is out of place.”
Andrew stepped closer to the largest gear, his eyes narrowing as he noticed a faint inscription etched into its surface. He wiped away the grime, revealing delicate, intricate writing.
“What does it say?” Ryu asked, peering over his shoulder.
Andrew’s voice was quiet but steady as he read the inscription aloud. “The well runs deep, but the key lies in the forgotten hour. Will you turn back the clock, or let the pendulum fall?”
“That’s cryptic,” Yosano said, folding her arms. “Even for this place.”
Kunikida frowned, jotting down the words in his notebook. “The forgotten hour... It’s connected to the clock in the well, isn’t it? Stuck at three minutes to midnight.”
Ranpo clapped his hands together, startling the group. “Well, then, let’s turn the clock back and see what happens! What’s the worst that could go wrong?”
“Don’t tempt fate,” Kunikida snapped, though his eyes lingered on the pendulum as if trying to decipher its secrets.
Andrew began examining the base of the pendulum, his movements precise and methodical. “There’s a mechanism here,” he said, gesturing for Kunikida to join him. “It looks like it’s connected to the rest of the room.”
As Kunikida crouched beside him, the whispers grew louder, more insistent. The air felt heavier, pressing down on them with an almost physical weight.
Ryu took a hesitant step back, his voice trembling. “I don’t think we’re alone anymore.”
The shadows returned, seeping out from the cracks in the walls like ink spilled on water. This time, they didn’t remain in the corners. They coalesced, forming twisted, shifting shapes that loomed over the group.
“Well, this is cozy,” Yosano said, her tone sharp as she cracked her knuckles. “Anyone else in the mood for a fight?”
Andrew drew his sabres, their blades gleaming in the flickering light. “Protect Ryu. I’ll hold them off.”
Ranpo adjusted his hat, a devil-may-care grin spreading across his face. “Don’t hog all the fun, Andrew. I’ve been dying to see how these things work.”
Kunikida rose to his feet, his notebook open and a pre-written page already in hand. “No one dies today. We end this. Now.”
The room erupted into chaos as the shadows lunged, their forms twisting and warping around the gears. Andrew moved with precision, his sabres cutting through the dark figures with practiced ease. Yosano joined him, each slash of her cleaver struck ruthlessly and efficiently, while Kunikida directed the team, his commands sharp and unyielding.
Amidst the fray, Ryu clung to Ranpo, who, despite his casual demeanor, kept a sharp eye on the boy.
The pendulum began to glow faintly, its light pulsing in time with the rhythm of the room. Andrew noticed the shift and shouted over the din, “The pendulum! It’s reacting!”
Kunikida nodded, his mind racing. “It’s the key. Keep them off me—I’ll figure out how to reset it.”
As the battle raged on, the gears groaned louder, their movements becoming more erratic. The whispers built to a deafening crescendo, and the pendulum’s light grew brighter, casting the room in an otherworldly glow.
Finally, Kunikida’s voice rang out, clear and commanding.
“Everyone, stand back!”
The pendulum swung free, its light exploding outward, engulfing the room in a blinding flash. The shadows let out a final, echoing wail before dissolving into nothingness.
When the light faded, the room was silent. The gears were still. The pendulum hung motionless, its glow extinguished.
Ranpo blinked, adjusting his glasses. “Well. That was dramatic.”
Andrew sheathed his sabres, his breathing steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. “What now?”
Kunikida stared at the pendulum, his jaw tight. “Now we figure out where this leads. Whatever we just stopped—it’s not over.”
Yosano smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Good. I was starting to get bored.”
The faint sound of clinking returned, this time from beyond the far wall. The group exchanged glances before pressing on.
The faint clinking grew louder as the group pressed forward, its metallic rhythm drawing them deeper into the labyrinthine heart of the hotel. The oppressive stillness of the air shifted, carrying with it a subtle hum—faint, almost like a heartbeat.
“This way,” Andrew said, his tone firm but quiet. His footsteps were deliberate, his gaze sharp as he scanned the machinery-lined walls for anything out of place.
Ranpo followed close behind, a smirk playing on his lips despite the tension. “You know, for someone so serious, you’ve got a knack for leading us into increasingly weird places. Do you have a side gig as a tour guide for the surreal?”
Andrew glanced back, his expression deadpan. “If I did, you’d owe me a hefty tip.”
Ranpo chuckled. “Touché.”
Ahead of them, the hallway widened into a circular chamber even larger than the last. At its center was a towering glass cylinder, surrounded by smaller, interlocking gears that hissed and clicked with unnatural precision.
The cylinder’s glass was tinted, making it impossible to see its contents clearly, but a faint, humanoid silhouette could be seen within—small, fragile, like a child frozen in time.
The group stopped, their collective breaths catching at the sight.
“What the hell is that?” Yosano murmured, stepping forward cautiously.
Andrew tilted his head, his analytical mind already turning.
“It’s...a containment unit. The machinery’s centered around it. Whatever’s inside must be important.”
Kunikida frowned, gripping his notebook tightly. “Important or dangerous. Let’s not assume either way.”
Ryu peered up at the glass, his small frame dwarfed by the imposing structure. “It looks like...a kid,” he said hesitantly. His voice was barely above a whisper, as though afraid the figure might hear him.
Yosano crouched near the base of the cylinder, her sharp eyes scanning its mechanisms. “It’s sealed tight. No obvious way to open it. And this glass—” she rapped her knuckles against it gently, the sound dull and hollow, “—isn’t just for show. It’s reinforced.”
“Why does it feel like we’re standing in front of the hotel’s heart?” Ranpo quipped, leaning casually against one of the stationary gears. “Or maybe its brain? Either way, I’m not thrilled about what happens if we mess with it.”
Yosano straightened, brushing dust off her hands. “Maybe it’s neither. It could be a victim. Or a prisoner.”
Andrew’s gaze lingered on the cylinder as he spoke, his voice thoughtful. “If this room controls the hotel—and by extension, the distortion of time—then whatever’s in there is connected. The machinery around it isn’t just for containment; it’s maintaining something.”
“Like keeping time frozen?” Yosano asked, folding her arms.
Andrew nodded. “Or keeping them frozen.”
The faint hum of the machinery seemed to deepen, vibrating through the floor. The silhouette within the glass twitched—just once, but enough to make everyone freeze.
“Did it just—” Yosano began, but Ryu interrupted her with a quiet yelp, stumbling back.
“It moved!” he exclaimed, his voice trembling. “I—I saw it! It moved!”
Ranpo let out a mockingly dramatic gasp, clutching his chest. “A moving shadow in a haunted hotel? Shocking. Someone call the papers.”
Ryu glared at him, his fear briefly overtaken by indignation. “I’m serious!”
Ranpo grinned but softened slightly, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I know, kid. I saw it too.”
Kunikida stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the cylinder.
“Whatever’s in there, it’s alive. Or aware.”
Yosano’s sharp eyes narrowed as she studied the figure. “Alive, maybe. But aware? I’m not so sure. It could just be reflex—some sort of automatic response to us being here.”
“Yeah, because a giant glass tube in a creepy clockwork room is definitely a normal place for reflexes,” Ranpo said with a raised eyebrow.
Ryu, still visibly tense, crossed his arms. “You’re all overthinking it. It’s just a trick—like everything else in this place.”
Andrew glanced at Ryu, his tone gentler now. “Maybe. But if it’s not, we need to be ready. This isn’t the kind of place that relies on harmless illusions.”
Ranpo leaned closer to the glass, peering at the figure. “Well, whatever it is, it’s not a morning person. Barely moved, even when we were shouting.”
“You’re welcome to knock and see if it answers,” Yosano said dryly.
Andrew smirked faintly. “That’ll be plan B.”
The hum of the room grew louder, and the gears around the cylinder began to turn, slowly at first but with increasing speed. The faint light inside the glass pulsed, flickering erratically as the shadowy figure shifted again—this time more deliberately.
“Plan B might be happening sooner than you think,” Ranpo said, stepping back.
Kunikida’s voice cut through the rising tension. “Andrew, Yosano—prepare for whatever’s coming. Ranpo, keep an eye on Ryu. If this thing gets loose, we don’t know what it’s capable of.”
Andrew’s sabres gleamed in the low light as he drew them, his stance steady. Yosano readied her medical bag, her expression as calm and dangerous as ever.
“Loose?” Ranpo said with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed unease. “Optimistic of you to assume it’s ever been contained.”
The figure within the glass shifted again, and this time, it lifted its head. Though its features were obscured, the group could feel its gaze—cold, calculating, and ancient.
Ryu pressed closer to Ranpo, his smaller hands clutching at his coat. “What is it?” he whispered.
Ranpo didn’t answer immediately, his playful demeanor slipping as he stared at the figure. For once, his smirk was gone. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and serious.
“Something that shouldn’t exist.”
The glass cracked.
The clockwork room's eerie stillness was broken by a faint, rhythmic thrum, like a pulse running through its endless halls.
The walls seemed closer than before, the suffocating air heavy with the faint scent of metal and damp stone. Ryu clung tightly to Ranpo’s sleeve, his eyes darting nervously toward the distorted figure ahead. It stood motionless, obscured in the dim light, radiating an unnatural malice.
Yosano’s grip on her cleaver tightened, her usual smirk replaced with a sharp focus. "Well, that’s new," she muttered, tilting her head toward the figure. "We’re really rolling out the welcome mat now."
"Stay sharp. We don’t know what it’s capable of yet," Kunikida said firmly, flipping open his notebook. His pen moved swiftly, the ink forming precise kanji as he prepared for the inevitable clash. “Ranpo, take Ryu and keep your distance. We’ll handle this.”
"Obviously," Ranpo replied, waving his hand dismissively, though his tone lacked its usual playful arrogance. He nudged Ryu gently. “Alright, kid, come on. Let the grown-ups play hero.”
Ryu hesitated, his gaze lingering on the figure. Its shape seemed to shift unnaturally, as though the hotel itself were bending to accommodate it. Memories stirred within him—faint, fragmented images of his mother’s face, her voice calling his name. He wanted to help, to do something, but fear rooted him to the spot.
"Ryu." Andrew’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, calm yet commanding. He crouched slightly, meeting the boy’s eyes. "You can help us by staying safe. Ranpo will make sure nothing happens to you. Trust us."
The boy nodded reluctantly and allowed Ranpo to lead him to a corner of the room where the shadows were deep. As the fight began, he watched intently, his small hands clenched into fists.
The figure made the first move, a ripple of energy surging outward and shaking the floor. Kunikida leapt to the side, summoning a flashbang from his notebook. "Yosano, cover me!" he shouted, tossing the device toward the figure.
Yosano darted forward, her cleaver glinting in the dim light as she slashed at the figure’s outstretched arm. The blade struck true, but the impact was wrong—soft yet unyielding, like cutting into water that resisted her every move.
"Not your usual flesh-and-blood foe," she remarked, leaping back to avoid the figure’s retaliatory swipe. "Andrew, any ideas?"
Andrew, already in motion, had shifted into a lean, wiry form of an unknown man with with blond hair with a fencer’s grace. His dual sabres gleamed as he struck, aiming for the figure’s core. "It’s not solid, but it’s reacting to us physically," he observed. “Focus on forcing it back for now. We need to figure out its limits.”
The figure twisted unnaturally, evading Andrew’s strike and retaliating with a burst of energy that knocked him off balance. Kunikida caught him by the arm and pulled him back.
“Think it’s the heart of this place?” Kunikida asked, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Destroying it might be our way out.”
“That’s an optimistic assumption,” Andrew replied, his voice even. “But I don’t see a better option.”
Meanwhile, in the shadows, Ranpo leaned against the wall, adjusting his glasses as he watched the fight. "They’ll figure it out," he muttered, half to himself. "They always do."
Ryu sat beside him, knees drawn to his chest. He flinched at each crash and tremor, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. “They’re going to win, right?” he asked, his voice trembling.
Ranpo turned to him, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his gaze. “Of course. This isn’t their first dance with weird, impossible stuff. Trust me, they’re annoyingly good at not dying.”
Ryu bit his lip, his gaze returning to the fight. Something about the figure felt familiar, like a half-remembered dream. The fragments in his mind began to take shape—his mother’s smile, her gentle hands, her voice telling him to wait for her. He clenched his fists tighter, frustration building alongside his fear.
“I want to help,” he whispered, almost to himself.
Ranpo arched an eyebrow. "You’re helping by not getting in the way. Unless you’ve got some secret weapon you haven’t told us about?"
Ryu hesitated, then shook his head. But the determination in his eyes was growing, sparked by the fleeting memories and the resolve of the people fighting for him.
The figure’s attacks grew more erratic, its form flickering with each blow it endured. Kunikida and Andrew moved in tandem, their strikes precise and coordinated, while Yosano darted in and out of range, exploiting every opening they created.
“It’s weakening,” Andrew noted, his breathing steady despite the intensity of the fight. “But it’s adapting too.”
As if in response, the figure unleashed a wave of energy that forced them all back. The walls around them shifted, statues emerging from the shadows to join the fray. Their stone eyes glowed faintly, and they moved with unnerving fluidity.
“Because one nightmare wasn’t enough,” Yosano quipped, readying her cleaver.
Kunikida summoned a wire gun from his notebook, firing it toward a statue and yanking it off balance. “We need to focus on the main target. The statues are just distractions.”
Easier said than done, Andrew thought as he blocked a statue’s swing with one sabre and countered with the other. He glanced toward Ryu and Ranpo, his expression unreadable. “Whatever happens, keep them safe.”
Yosano grinned, her confidence unwavering. "Please. Do you know who you’re talking to?"
As the team pressed forward, Ryu’s determination solidified. He didn’t know how, but he was certain of one thing: the figure was connected to the hotel, to his memories, and to their only chance of escape. He just had to figure out what it wanted—and hope he could act before it was too late.
The team’s coordinated effort against the figure continued with a relentless rhythm, each strike, dodge, and counter seemingly dictated by the urgency of their mission. As the fight escalated, the oppressive atmosphere in the clockwork room thickened, the walls seemingly closing in further, like the heartbeat of the hotel itself was beginning to drown out everything else.
Kunikida and Andrew's synchronized movements became more fluid, each anticipating the other’s actions as the figure twisted and pulsed unnaturally, evading their blows with eerie precision. Despite the escalating chaos, Andrew’s calm demeanor remained unshaken. His fencing stance was steady, his dual sabres cutting through the air with an almost poetic grace.
“Focus on the heart of this thing, Kunikida!” Yosano shouted, slashing at the figure’s outstretched arm with her cleaver. It met with a strange resistance, as if her blade were cutting through the fabric of reality itself, instead of flesh. “It’s not like anything we’ve fought before.”
“I’m getting that impression,” Kunikida replied, unfazed as he dropped another flashbang onto the floor, a quick flash of light temporarily blinding their opponent. He swiftly followed up with a wire gun, pulling one of the statues off its pedestal, sending it crashing to the floor. “But these statues aren’t the problem. The figure is.”
Andrew stepped forward, his posture shifting into something far more fluid, almost ethereal. He seemed to merge with the surroundings, his movements a perfect balance of grace and violence. "We need to force it back and see what it’s protecting."
His sabres glinted under the dim light as he parried another strike from the shifting figure. The intensity of his movements belied the serene expression on his face, but beneath his calm exterior, there was a flicker of something darker—a sense of urgency driven by the need to protect those around him. The heavy emotional toll of his ability—the countless identities he’d assumed over the years—gnawed at him as he shifted again, mirroring the figure for a brief moment, understanding its movements but struggling to control the echo of its memories.
“We’ll find it,” he muttered under his breath, shifting once more, the unfamiliar face of an unknown man becoming a blur in the heat of the moment.
In the shadows, Ranpo remained ever the observer, his fingers tapping lightly on his glasses as he assessed the situation. “I don’t get it,” he mused aloud. “It’s not just reacting to us—it’s absorbing our attacks, adapting. We’ll need a different approach. This thing is tied to this place, and I think it knows how to stay one step ahead.”
Ryu’s eyes widened as he absorbed Ranpo’s words, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and fear. The boy, still curled up in a corner, tried to focus on the chaos unfolding before him, trying to make sense of the connection between the figure and his own fractured memories. Something about the figure—its form, its shifting movements—felt so eerily familiar. It was as though the figure embodied his fear and confusion, his longing for answers, and the mysterious presence that had haunted him since he’d arrived at the Pacific Hotel.
“I want to help,” Ryu whispered again, the words almost lost in the noise of the fight.
Ranpo, who had been half-listening, glanced at the boy, his expression softening for a fleeting moment. "You’re doing your part by staying safe, kid. Let the experts handle this, alright?" He gave a half-hearted chuckle, but there was a weight behind his words.
Despite his words, Ryu could feel the tension in the air, the sense that the battle was far from over. He looked at his hands, the same hands that had once reached out for his mother, the same hands that now clutched desperately at the air, wishing for a way to fix everything.
As the fight intensified, the figure’s form flickered again, its energy surging outward. The statues, now fully animated, advanced on the team, their stone limbs moving with unnerving speed.
“Great,” Yosano muttered. “As if we didn’t have enough problems already.”
"Stay focused!" Kunikida barked, his voice a firm anchor amid the growing chaos. "We need to stop that thing. The statues are just distractions."
With a shared understanding, the team fell into a more strategic rhythm. Andrew, Kunikida, and Yosano pushed forward, their focus now entirely on the flickering figure that seemed to be the epicenter of the madness. As they pressed their assault, the figure’s movements began to slow, its form warping with each attack, revealing hints of something more human beneath the distorted surface.
Andrew’s sabres struck true, his movements sharper now, each hit landing with precision as though guided by the very memories of those who had once inhabited the hotel. He knew that whatever this figure was, it held the key to Ryu’s past—and possibly their escape.
With a final coordinated effort, Kunikida’s wire gun ensnared one of the statues, pulling it away just long enough for Andrew to strike the figure in the chest with both sabres in unison. A burst of energy erupted from the figure, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze—time, space, and reality itself hanging in the balance.
Ryu’s heart raced as he saw the figure stumble, its flickering form crumbling under their relentless assault. For the first time since entering the Pacific Hotel, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could find the answers he had been searching for.
Ranpo’s voice cut through the silence that followed the explosion. “Nice job. Now, we just have to figure out what the hell this thing actually was.”
Yosano gave a satisfied grin, her cleaver dripping with the remnants of the creature’s form. “And maybe we can figure out how to get out of here without losing our minds.”
As the echoes of the battle faded, the room began to shift again, the oppressive energy loosening its grip. The statues fell motionless, and the figure’s form dissolved, leaving only an empty space in its wake.
Ryu stood, feeling a weight lift from his chest. His eyes found Andrew, and for the first time, there was a glimmer of understanding between them. The hotel, the figure, and the strange memories that had haunted him were all part of something much larger—a puzzle he would have to solve, with their help.
The team gathered, breathless but unbroken, ready for whatever came next.
“Let’s keep moving,” Kunikida said, his voice as firm as ever. “We’ve only scratched the surface.”
——————
The dim light from the laundromat flickered above, casting long, uneven shadows on the floor. The walls, once sterile and clinical, now felt more like the corners of an abandoned space—forgotten, perhaps, by time itself. The constant, low hum of washing machines filled the silence, but their rhythm had become oddly soothing. In a way, it felt like the machines themselves were the only things still functioning correctly in this distorted hotel.
Andrew paced the room with his usual calm intensity. His eyes darted from one end of the laundromat to the other, as if searching for something—anything—that could give him a clue. He had an eerie sense that something was lurking just out of sight, just beyond the edges of this warped space. "It’s not over," he muttered under his breath, his fingers brushing against the handle of one of his sabers.
"Whatever we just encountered... that entity. It’s feeding off something. But what? And who?"
Ranpo, seated on a stack of laundry baskets, was trying to concentrate. His face twisted in thought, but his body seemed too weary to maintain the same level of alertness. His usually sharp eyes, bright and calculating, were now clouded with exhaustion. "I’d say it’s feeding off memories—people’s regrets, their losses. It makes sense. That place, the way time is frozen... it feels like it's trying to keep them trapped in a cycle. And trauma, that's the fuel for this kind of thing, right?"
Yosano, slumped against the wall, sighed heavily. "This whole thing feels like one big, twisted metaphor for loss. But there's something else here... something deeper. I don't think this place is just about people's regrets. It feels like it's about control, about twisting reality to its will."
Kunikida, who had been standing at the window, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, turned to face the group. His expression was grim. "The laundromat is the only safe place. But I don’t like the idea of waiting here. We need to find the heart of this hotel, find the source of this thing, before it pulls us all under." He looked at Andrew, then Yosano, as if silently asking for their opinion.
"It’s not going to be easy," Andrew said, his voice calm but firm. "We’re dealing with something that has no bounds, no limits. It’s not like any case we’ve encountered before. This is... bigger." He didn’t elaborate further, but the weight of his words hung in the air. His eyes flicked to the others. "We can’t afford to rest for long. This hotel feeds off our memories—our weaknesses. We need to find a way to cut it off, or it will keep playing us like puppets."
There was a brief pause, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone in the room. The night outside seemed endless, the stillness unsettling. The clock on the wall had long stopped, its hands frozen at midnight. There was no way of telling how much time had passed.
Ranpo broke the silence. "So, what’s the plan? You all keep saying we need to ‘find the source,’ but none of us really knows where to look." He leaned back, his eyes closing as he tried to push through the mental exhaustion. "I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Kunikida, but we’re kind of running out of options here."
Yosano gave him a tired smile. "That’s why we’re still here. The laundromat, the machines, the faint smell of detergent. It’s the only thing in this hotel that doesn’t change. The rest of it—" She gestured around the room, her voice cold. "It warps, distorts, twists reality. If we’re going to figure this out, we need to stop treating this like any other case. This place is alive in its own way. It’s trying to bleed us dry."
Kunikida’s expression softened, but only slightly. "Then what? Do we just wait until something happens? This isn’t like a normal case. There are no leads. No obvious trails."
Andrew cut in sharply. "Waiting won’t help us. We need to find the cracks in this place—there has to be a way to unravelit. Think about the entity, the way it manifested. It feeds off memories, right? So where’s the anchor? What’s keeping it here?"
Ryu, who had been quietly listening in, finally spoke up. "What if it’s tied to something... someone? Something specific that ties all this together?" His voice was small, but his words had the weight of truth. "Like... how the hotel never changes, but the people in it? What if we’re the ones causing it to stay?"
The room went silent as everyone considered Ryu’s words. He was just a child, but the insight he’d offered cut through the tension in the air. If this hotel was feeding off their memories, then their own trauma, regrets, and losses might be the key to solving the puzzle.
"Ryu’s got a point," Andrew said, breaking the silence. "If our memories are fueling this... then there’s got to be something personal tying us to this place. Something we’ve all forgotten—or something we’re all trying to avoid."
Kunikida rubbed his temples, the stress of the situation showing on his face. "We can’t go on like this. If our memories are the key, we need to confront them head-on. But we need to know what we’re facing. If this hotel is feeding off us... then maybe we’re the ones who have the power to stop it."
As the group sat in the dim laundromat, surrounded by the hum of washing machines and the distant echoes of something else lurking beyond, it became clear: the next step wouldn’t be easy. But they had no choice. The Pacific Hotel wouldn’t let them go until they understood what it wanted—and more importantly, how to stop it from claiming any more souls.
The night stretched on, and sleep came only in fleeting moments—quick, haunted breaths before the next wave of nightmares set in. But they had a mission now. They would face this entity. They would confront their memories. And they would break free, or they would become another lost echo in the halls of the Pacific Hotel.