Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He laid on his back, arms crossed tightly over his chest in an attempt to keep warm, eyes shut as if sheer willpower might drag him into sleep. But no matter how tired he was—no matter how drained by the night they had endured—rest wouldn’t come. Whether it was the chill seeping into his bones or the weight of another presence in his bed, his thoughts just refused to settle. What surprised him most was how calm Shin seemed about it, considering what had happened that morning.

Maybe Shin wasn’t overthinking the situation like he was. That, somehow, would be even more surprising.

“Stop squirming so much…” came a faint whisper from within the cocoon of sheets.

Keiji blinked, realizing only then how restless he had been—shifting his body, flexing his feet against the mattress, adjusting as if no position could quite hold him still. A shaky breath escaped him. “Sorry…” he murmured.

“Can’t sleep?” Shin’s voice drifted out, muffled by the fabric of the sheets he laid in between of.

“Not really. You?” Keiji asked, turning his head toward the sound.

“I’m not really that tired. Just a bit dizzy.”

“Hm.” Keiji huffed quietly. “It's still a good idea to lie down.”

“…I know.” Shin admitted, his reply barely a whisper. “At least I’ll have some company to stare at the ceiling for a few hours.”

Keiji chuckled at that. “Hopefully I’ll be asleep before that happens.”

“So you say…” Shin muttered back, the corner of his mouth tugging faintly into a smirk.

The cocoon rustled, and soon a head emerged from within. Shin’s pale, tired face, his teal eyes glinting faintly as they followed Keiji’s outline on the mattress. “Are you cold?” he asked softly.

Keiji turned on his side to face him. “A little. But you can keep the sheets—”

Before he could finish, Shin flung a strip of blanket toward him, draping it over his body. The fabric was thin, the cold seeping through regardless, and worse, too short—made for one person, not two. To actually get his entire body under it, Keiji would have to shift closer to Shin. Something he’d rather avoid.

“…I’m fine.” he whispered, catching the sheet and tossing it back toward Shin’s side.

“Aren’t you stubborn?” Shin muttered, not bothering to lower his voice as he promptly tossed it back.

Keiji frowned, ready to throw it again—but Shin was quicker. With one sharp tug, he stripped away most of his own coverings, draping Keiji in them too as he scooted closer across the narrow mattress. “See? Not so bad.” he murmured, now only inches from Keiji’s face.

Keiji froze. His eyes widened, scanning Shin’s features. It wasn’t the first time they’d been this close—far from it—but the knot in his throat tightened, strangling any words before they could form. He turned away instead, flat on his back once more, staring blankly up at the ceiling while his pulse refused to steady.

The smirk tugging at Shin’s lips shifted into a sly smile, one hidden away from Keiji’s gaze. The fact that he’d managed to completely unravel Keiji was, in its own way, hilarious—and strangely endearing. Still, he didn’t want the man to feel so uncomfortable around him. If anything, he wanted him to relax, maybe even fall asleep. But for now, that didn’t seem likely.

“How’s your shoulder?” Shin asked suddenly, turning his face from Keiji’s direction and toward the ceiling, his back flat against the mattress.

“Huh?” The question pulled Keiji out of his thoughts. He had been doing his best to tune Shin’s presence out entirely, to settle himself into something resembling calm. “It’s—uh, pretty well healed, I’d say.”

“Really?” Shin’s voice carried genuine curiosity.

“Safalin did something back on the last floor. Dunno what exactly, but it barely hurts now,” Keiji replied. only stings if I try to raise my arm over my head. Other than that, no pain.”

“Huh.” Shin exhaled, his tone softer. “Wish she could’ve done that for my hands back then…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “They don’t hurt anymore, but they look awful.”

“Let me see.” Keiji turned his head toward Shin, his hand slipping beneath the sheets to find one of Shin’s.

His fingertips brushed against warm skin, the contact making him gulp. Carefully, he closed his hand around Shin’s and drew it out of the cocoon of bedsheets. Under the weak glow of the lamp on the coffee table, he tried to study the scars. It was difficult—but he could still make out the faint ridges of calloused skin, the uneven patches where the skin had reddened, the faint scars where glass had once embedded itself deep.

And what he couldn’t see, he could feel. Shin’s fingers twitched under his touch, a subtle flinch betraying the parts that still hadn’t fully healed. Even if his eyes couldn’t find every mark, Keiji could trace them in memory through touch alone.

“Do you want me to bandage them again?” Keiji asked, his gaze fixed on Shin’s eyes.

“No need—but you seem like you really want to.” Shin sarcastically replied.

Keiji let out a small chuckle and released Shin’s hand, letting it drop softly back to the mattress. “Maybe, maybe not.”

It was still strange to him, this ease between them. Every word came with a dull ache, yet grounding. To sit here, to talk with Shin as though he weren’t bound by the guilt of the secrets he kept. He knew that what he wanted from Shin wasn’t simple comfort—it was something selfish, something he could almost believe was within reach. Almost.

“Glad to know I got my wish,” Shin said at last, his voice soft. “Seems like you’ll end up staring at the ceiling too.”

“How horrible.” Keiji muttered, rolling onto his back again.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty, but it stretched between them. Neither lacked words, yet both held them back. Keiji’s body remained close to Shin’s without touching, his warmth bleeding faintly across the gap. Still, his heartbeat raced as if he were pressed right against him, caught between want and restraint.

The longer he spent like this—not merely sharing a bed, but sharing Shin’s presence—the stranger it became. Not because he didn’t understand what it was, but because he rarely allowed himself to feel such a thing at all. Maybe his plans, whatever they had once been, had already collapsed long ago.

“So…” Shin began softly. “About that thing with my parents…” He hesitated, thinking of his next words. “I told you I wanted to see them when this was all over. And, listen, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it but—”

“Don’t tell me we’re playing twenty questions.” Keiji interjected.

“...What? No!” Shin’s composure slipped, his voice loud. “I just wondered... Don't you want to see your own folk?”

Keiji stayed quiet for a long while, staring at the ceiling as if it could answer for him. Finally, he said, voice flat, “Guess it would be nice to see my mom after such a long time.”

“Just your mom...?” Shin murmured. “Oh... sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Keiji told him. “My father hasn’t been in the picture since I was a kid, so…”

“That so...?” Shin shifted, turning toward him again. “Why haven’t you seen your mom in a while...? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“This really is twenty questions, huh…” Keiji chuckled, though it was hollow and tired. “I just... couldn’t. After I shot—after I left the force, I went through a bit of a rebellious phase.” His words remained flat, as if distancing himself from them. “Drank too much, slept around, dyed my hair some lousy color... I wasn’t really living a life I was proud of. And I couldn’t face her like that. So... we haven’t seen each other in a few years.”

“Not even a call?” Shin asked, worry in his voice.

“She called a few times.” A pause. “But after a few weeks of me not picking up, I guess she figured I wasn’t in the mood to talk.”

Shin said nothing. His gaze lowered, carrying the weight Keiji’s words left behind.

“It’s fine if you think I’m a bad person.” Keiji muttered, breaking the silence himself. “I’m not proud of it either.”

Shin lifted his gaze again. Even without meeting Keiji’s eyes, he could see the way they fixed on nothing, the way his words drifted out without weight. They carried no feeling—because he refused to let them. It was less confession, more retelling, like reading lines from a story he’d detached himself from. Shin almost felt bad for asking, yet curiosity got him all the same.

“Did you like my answer?” Keiji spoke again, finally turning his head. His eyes met Shin’s for the first time since he’d begun, a sly grin tugging at his mouth.

Shin let out a huff, rolling his eyes. “Here I was, thinking you were being serious.”

“Hm.” Keiji hummed. “Last time we played twenty questions and I got all serious, we ended up making out.”

Shin’s brow arched, his expression shifting as realization clicked. “What? …Ah. Don’t tell me you suddenly have a problem with that?” he whispered, a cocky grin in his lips as he leaned in closer.

Keiji raised a hand, palm pressing against Shin’s face to push him gently back. “Don’t even think about it.”

He didn’t want this—whatever this was—to become that. Not because he was against it. Quite the opposite. But he feared where it would lead, how it would inevitably end. His composure had been slipping too often lately, and every time, Shin was at the center of it—for all the wrong reasons.

He drew his hand away from Shin’s face, letting it fall by his side as he turned onto his back, eyes closing. “How about we actually sleep?” he pleaded.

“As if,” Shin muttered, pouting as he settled deeper into the pillow. “You did say we were playing twenty questions… and I’ve got a few more.”

Keiji exhaled long and slow, his eyes still shut as he folded his arms beneath his head. “Go on, then.”

Rolling onto his back, Shin tilted his head toward the ceiling. “What was your reward?”

“Straight to the prize, huh?” Keiji teased, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

“It's only fair,” Shin pressed. “you did literally take mine.”

“It’s still yours,” Keiji murmured. “But… point taken.” He fell quiet for a moment, remembering. At first, he’d thought the whole thing useless. But after Meister explained the rules, it clicked—how useful it could really be. It wasn’t the kind of prize that gave him an advantage alone, which made keeping it secret feel pointless.

“‘You can see one card.’” Keiji said at last, mimicking Kugie’s flat delivery.

Shin blinked, his voice low. “…As in?”

“One of the doll’s cards.”

“Huh…” Shin exhaled, almost a sigh. “That’s… really good.” His tone softened. “Do you think there’s a catch?”

“Dunno.” Keiji replied flatly.

Shin turned his head slightly toward him. “What do you think Sara and Gin got?”

“Duuuuuno.” Keiji stretched the word into a lazy groan.

“Suddenly not very talkative?” Shin sneered, raising an eyebrow.

“No, just keeping track of your questions.” Keiji breathed. “You've said eight so far since we started playin'.”

“We aren’t—” Shin stopped himself, huffing through his nose. “You know what? Sure.” He rolled his eyes.

Keiji let out a low chuckle, stifling the laugh that threatened to escape his throat. His eyes remained shut, deciding short answers might finally convince Shin to let him sleep—for once.

“Weird, Gin didn’t tell you what he got?” Shin asked, prodding again.

“Nope.” Keiji replied flatly.

He understood what Shin was getting at, though. It was odd—Gin was usually quick to share things that could help the group. That the boy kept this particular piece of information to himself… yeah, that struck him as unusual too.

“He’ll probably tell Sara, though.” Keiji added after a pause.

“No doubt.” Shin muttered.

And then… silence. Again.

For Keiji, it was a relief. The quiet stretched, perhaps finally he would let his body loosen, find the sleep he’s been searching for.

For Shin though, it was suffocating. Every second it dragged, the more his mind grew restless. His gaze stuck to the ceiling, tracing the cracks overhead, every detail pulling him further from calm. And he wasn’t particularly hiding it—every question that passed through his mind slipped out, even knowing Keiji would rather just sleep. He felt bad about it, the same guilt he’d carried since that morning, but something about this night, about everything they had just gone through, refused to let him rest.

The laptop.

His thoughts circled it endlessly. He knew where it was—if Keiji had told the truth—but 2% battery was useless. The only chance he had at being useful depended on finding the charger, which meant participating in the tasks. The frustration ate away at him. Even as his body ached from fatigue and his mind dragged behind, the restlessness remained.

He grunted under his breath. Not the first time that night, and Keiji had noticed each one.

For someone who could usually sleep on command, this was torture. Shin’s presence made it worse, left him unsettled in a way even the familiar comfort of the room couldn’t fix.

“…What has you so mad?” Keiji muttered, his voice groggy.

Shin hesitated. He wasn’t mad—more disappointed. In himself. In his own uselessness. He didn’t know if unloading that now, when Keiji clearly wanted rest, would even matter.

“Nothing.” he mumbled.

Keiji let the silence hang. He didn’t prod, though the urge gnawed at him. Lately, every time Shin shut down, the pull to dig into it had only grown stronger. He didn’t know why—but at this point, did the reason even matter?

“…You’re a lousy liar.” A smirk tugged at his lips as he cracked one eye open.

“Says you,” Shin shot back quickly. “I’m not lying.”

It mattered. It always did.

“Last time I let you fall asleep upset, you nearly killed me,” Keiji said, dry sarcasm dyed his voice. “So… talk.”

Shin’s fists clenched tight around the sheets, nails digging into the fabric. There was nothing to say, no neat conclusion waiting to be voiced. He wasn’t mad, not even annoyed. And besides—what did Keiji care now, when all he wanted was sleep? So why was he still awake?

“I’m telling you… nothing’s wrong.”

Maybe this was what he wanted all along. For someone to reach out—only to push it away the moment it was offered.

He didn't even understand himself. Though, that could be said to both of them.

Keiji let out a long exhale as he uncurled one of his arms from behind his head, bringing it to rest on top of Shin's, the tip of his fingers threading slowly and carefully along his hair. He didn't know why he did that—the gesture he found himself doing far more than he's ever done before. Though, neither he or Shin really minded.

Keiji shifted in the bed, he still didn't quite understand the weight of his thoughts, of the uncomfortable feeling that sat on his chest—he didn't understand it, and he didn't want to, maybe because deep in his heart he knew what it meant, even if his mind didn't understand. He rolled onto his side as though testing the waters of a decision he hadn’t fully acknowledged himself. His arm slipped over Shin’s torso. He pulled Shin’s body flush against his own, letting his own head rest against the steady rise and fall of Shin’s chest. For a moment, he simply stayed there, eyes half-lidded, as if listening to the rhythm of a heart he wasn’t sure he deserved to hear.

Shin stiffened instinctively, breath catching in his throat. The heat radiating from Keiji’s body pressed into his side, the arm around him as a quiet anchor he hadn’t expected. Keiji’s fingers curled faintly against his shirt, and the silence between them seemed to grow, filled with every thought and any word they didn't dare say.

“…You’re heavy.” Shin muttered at last, his voice quiet.

“Hm... You’ll live.” Keiji murmured against him, slipping towards the sleep he sought for.

One of Shin’s arms found its way to Keiji’s back, fingertips caressing the strands of his hair. Somehow, without meaning to, they had ended in the same place as the last time they shared the bed—only this time without the… things that led them there.

He wasn’t uncomfortable with this, if anything, he was dangerously at ease. To be this close, to allow himself to feel anything resembling peace with Keiji… it was something Shin had never expected, something he’d never allowed himself to imagine he could grow to like. Yet here he was, unable to deny the warmth it left across his chest.

So he shut his eyes and tried to let sleep take him, even as anxiety pooled in his ribs. The next time he opened his eyes, it was to the pale rays of dawn creeping through the curtains, painting the room in muted light while Keiji’s steady breathing still pressed against his side.

It was dreamless, and maybe that was for the best. Letting the night go by in a blink was easier than fooling himself with illusions he’d rather not wake from.

Keiji’s faint snores rumbled against him, softened by the way his face was pressed into Shin’s chest. He looked at ease—far more at ease than Shin could ever be. He didn't know how many hours had gone by, but clearly not enough, seeing as he had a throbbing migraine not even a minute after waking up. But somehow Keiji had managed to find peace where Shin couldn’t.

And now one question lingered… How was he supposed to get out of the bed?

Keiji’s arm was slung around his torso, and his face was still pressed against him. Any movement risked disturbing him. Unless… he was a heavy sleeper.

He recalled that one night, when he’d nearly strangled him in his sleep. Keiji hadn’t woken until Shin had already been on top of him, hands wrapped around his throat. If he could sleep through that, maybe slipping out from under him wouldn’t be impossible.

Carefully, Shin moved his hand, brushing his fingers along Keiji’s arm until he reached his wrist. He held his breath as he slowly began to lift it. Keiji’s body stirred faintly at the motion, his brow knitting for the briefest second, but his eyes stayed shut. Shin guided the arm upward, until it could rest on the mattress beside him.

Once free, he tried easing himself away, moving his torso a fraction at a time. Keiji let out a faint groan, his head sliding off Shin’s chest and onto the pillow with a dull thump. For a moment his hand twitched, fingers curling as if reaching for something, his expression tightening in a fleeting grimace. Shin froze—until Keiji’s body loosened again, face burrowing lazily into the pillow, a soft breath leaving him as though nothing had changed at all.

A heavy sleeper indeed—or perhaps just too tired for his body to bother waking up properly. Either way, Shin was finally free, out of the bed and out of Keiji’s grasp. He sat on the edge for a moment, steadying his breath, the soft rays of false dawn reflecting faintly across his face. He knew the light wasn’t real, just another imitation of morning, but the warmth that lingered on his skin was enough to feel real.

Glancing back, his eyes lingered on Keiji. His face was still against the pillow, hair tousled and catching stray strands of blond in the dim light. He looked more at peace than Shin had ever seen him.

Shin pushed himself up carefully, tugging at his jacket to straighten it. He reached for the beanie crumpled on the floor, brushing it off before pulling it snug over his hair. The room felt darker than the light could disguise, heavy with a kind of emptiness that clung to the walls. He told himself it wasn’t his concern, it was Keiji’s room, Keiji’s life. He had no right to critique it. And yet… maybe because of what Keiji had said the night before, that emptiness resonated in a way he hated to recognize.

Not his loneliness—but Keiji’s. The same quiet thing that had always haunted Shin himself.

He didn’t let himself linger on it, not on the thought, not on the sight of Keiji asleep, not on the ache pulling at his chest. He slipped out of the room before hesitation could drag him back, leaving his shoes behind without care, his socks padding soundlessly against the floor as he disappeared into the corridor.

He lifted his gaze, eyes landing on a board bolted to the wall, screws visible at the corners. A clock ticked quietly just above it, its ticking echoing against the silence of the corridor.

The board detailed their tasks, with the schedules written out. His eyes skimmed the list until his own name caught his attention.

Shin Tsukimi / Cleaning duty, schedule: 9 AM

He exhaled slowly, relief washing over his body. Better cleaning duty than nurse duty—he’d had more than enough of Hinako making him drain himself dry of blood. Cleaning felt almost merciful by comparison.

But the clock read barely 7:00 AM. Two hours to kill. His gaze traced the rest of the board, finding the fixed hours for breakfast, lunch, dinner. Breakfast wouldn’t start for another hour.

The hallway was no good for waiting. The ever familiar chill creeping through his jacket no matter how tightly he wrapped it around himself. It was the kind of cold that made the skin prickle. But worse than the cold was the reminder of danger. The doppelganger doll, whatever that thing is, could be lurking nearby.

And so, his back pressed against Keiji’s door, Shin hesitated. He weighed the choice, his mind flickering between options. Should he slip back inside, or should he stay put, standing against the cold and the quiet threat that stalked the corridors?

Then it struck him—the laptop. It was still in his room… assuming Keiji hadn’t lied.

Two percent of battery wasn’t enough to skim through the code, but maybe… maybe it was enough to check the SD card. His hand slipped into his jacket pocket, brushing against the lining. Empty. He checked the other. Still nothing.

A dull panic pressed into his ribs. His breath stuttered as he patted down his pants pockets, one by one, more frantic each time. Nothing.

The SD card was gone.

His gaze snapped to the floor, eyes sweeping across every inch of it, hoping for the smallest glint of plastic against the lights. But the floor was clean.

Maybe… maybe it had fallen in Keiji’s room. That would make sense.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Shin twisted the knob and pushed the door open again, just enough for the hallway’s harsh light to spill inside. He slipped in quietly, his steps slow.

Keiji was still asleep, his face buried in the pillow, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Yet stepping inside this time felt different—stranger. Like all the air had been sucked out the moment he stepped through the door. Maybe it was the silence. Or maybe it was the newfound loneliness clinging to these walls.

Shin shook his head sharply, forcing himself back into focus. He scanned the floor first, leaving the door ajar so the light could guide his search. Nothing.

He crept further in, crouching by the bed. The soft glow of the lamp on top of the coffee table cutting through the dark. He lowered himself, peering beneath the bed frame. Still nothing.

If it had fallen… maybe it happened last night, maybe when he tumbled down the stairs. It wasn’t impossible. Just strange he hadn’t noticed sooner.

The mattress shifted with a faint creak. Shin’s head snapped up, and his breath caught in his throat.

Keiji had rolled onto his back, his face now turned toward the ceiling, lips parted, still deep asleep.

His eyes skimmed over Keiji’s face, softened in the lamp’s glow, tracing every line until they landed on the collar circling his neck. They all wore one, a constant reminder. Before he could think it over, his hand moved on its own, fingertips brushing the cool edge of the metal. He leaned closer, back bent awkwardly over the bed, eyes fixed on the collar as his fingers slid along its surface. He found the spot by instinct—the latch. On his own collar, a tug would undo it. On Keiji’s, and everyone else’s, it was nothing but decoration.

Still, curiosity lingered. His fingertips toyed with the latch, tugging lightly. It didn’t budge.

But before he could pull away, his wrist was caught in Keiji’s grasp. In an instant, the man shifted, pushing Shin onto the bed and rolling him under. Shin barely had time to gasp before his back hit the mattress with a dull thud, the bedsprings groaned under the sudden weight. Keiji’s body pressed close as he pinned both of Shin’s wrists down, his hands strong and steady.

Keiji’s knees dug into the mattress beside Shin’s hips, caging him in place. The heat of his body lingered over Shin, heavy and unyielding.

“…Thinking of strangling me in my sleep again?” Keiji’s voice came low and groggy, half amusement, half warning. No smile on sight to accompany his amusement.

“Huh—?” Shin’s breath hitched, his mind still trying to catch up, his voice the only sound he could manage while he scrambled to make sense of what had just happened.

Shin’s eyes stayed locked on Keiji’s, pinned in more ways than one. His wrists flexed against the weight of Keiji’s grip, fingertips curling helplessly in the sheets beneath them. The mattress dipped under Keiji’s knees, sinking Shin further into its hold, leaving no space to move and even less room to escape. His chest rose sharply with each breath, brushing faintly against the fabric of Keiji’s shirt with how close he hovered over him.

The pressure on his wrists was enough to remind him that even the smallest shift wasn’t his to decide. His shoulders ached under the press, his back tense as it arched ever so slightly against the mattress in resistance.

Shin’s lips parted, then closed again, his voice catching in his throat. The sound of his swallow was loud in the silence, his Adam’s apple dragging upward and down again. Heat pricked at the edges of his face, creeping up his ears.

“I wasn’t—” he managed to say, the words coming out in a broken stammer, barely a sound at all. It was only as the words left his lips that Keiji’s question hit him, remembering the events of that night not even that long ago. His mouth closed with a snap, his jaw tightening as his gaze darted away in shame.

Yet the weight on his wrists eased. Keiji’s fingers loosened, sliding away from his skin. With a low exhale, Keiji shifted his weight back, rolling to the side and sitting beside him. “Relaaax… I’m just messing with you.”

Shin sat up a little, still rubbing the tender skin of his wrists where Keiji’s grip had been. “…Were you?” he asked, his voice soft as his eyes flicked toward Keiji again.

Keiji looked away as he put on his characteristic smile, the corners of his lips wavering. “...I was.” he replied, though it didn’t sound genuine at all.

Shin didn’t press further. There was no need to—and he didn't want to, either.

His eyes swept over the bed. It was a mess; sheets tangled in bundles, the two pillows abandoned in random spots. If the SD card had slipped from his pocket while he was lying down, there was no way he’d find it like this. But he didn’t stress over it. He had cleaning duty, after all—he’d be back later in the day, he could search more calmly.

A yawn from Keiji broke the silence between them. “What got you up so early, anyway?”

Shin lifted his gaze, meeting Keiji’s. Only then did he notice the redness in his eyes, clear proof he’d just woken up. “...I wanted to check on the tasks.” He lied, looking away as he spoke. “There’s a board outside. They even hung up a clock.”

“A clock?!” Keiji bursted out.

“Yes...?” Shin asked, surprised by Keiji’s reaction. “What’s wrong with it?”

“We’ve been here for who knows how long, not even knowing if our days and nights are real or not—and you’re asking me why I’m surprised about a clock?” Keiji shot back, eyes wide.

“I mean... the times could still be fake.” Shin began. “For all we know, it’s the middle of the night even if it looks like morning to us.”

“Still,” Keiji began, “some semblance of time is better than none.” He rested his elbow on his knee, propping his hand against his cheek and cradling his own face. “Did you check the schedules, then? What did you get?”

Shin raised an eyebrow at his curiosity. He could just check for himself if he was that interested... but regardless, “Cleaning duty this time.” Shin replied.

“Ohh, nice.” Keiji enunciated quickly. “Did you see what I got?”

“Nurse duty.” Shin said flatly, not meeting his eyes.

“Hmm…” Keiji hummed. “Guess it’s my turn to be sucked dry.”

“I don’t think so…” Shin muttered. “She had me do that yesterday since she didn’t have any bags of my blood. There were three bags of yours—so I doubt she’ll make you do it.”

Keiji exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping as tension left him. Better that way. If he wasn’t drained, it meant he could keep his strength through the day—At least, for now, his body wouldn’t betray him.

“The tasks start at nine.” Shin continued, shifting toward the edge of the bed and letting his legs dangle off of it. “Breakfast is at eight... and it’s somewhere around seven right now.”

“How efficient.” Keiji mused, flashing a sly grin.

“Just keeping the time…” Shin stood, brushing off his pants.

He coughed softly into his hands, cupping them around his mouth for warmth. The chill in Keiji’s bedroom was nothing like the hallway’s—but still far too cold for him. Lowering his hands, his eyes caught the faint redness around his wrists. Nothing alarming, nothing that would bruise. It didn’t even hurt—yet he, nor Keiji, could deny it had happened. And, for better or worse, Shin found that he… enjoyed it.

Of course, there was nothing about the situation to truly enjoy—no one would feel particularly thrilled at the thought of being strangled in their sleep. But he couldn’t ignore the heat that crept up his neck after being restrained, the restless flutter under his skin. Especially after everything that had transpired only twenty-four hours ago, and the acknowledgment they had both already shared about how much they… liked it.

Feeling a little flustered would’ve been the most common reaction. Shin, however, was well beyond flustered.

Still, it was something he would never admit to—least of all to Keiji.

“You should turn that heater on…” Shin muttered, his words muffled by the jacket collar he tugged up to cover half his face.

“It’s not even that cold…?” Keiji replied, tilting his head.

“Cold enough.” Shin retorted, glancing back at him.

“Hm… maybe.” Keiji mused, looking pensive. “But anyhow, how are you planning to kill time in the meantime?”

“How are you going to do it?” Shin shot back.

“Me? I’m tempted to just go back to sleep.” Keiji pointed lazily at himself before slumping onto the bed. “I did have a rather rude awakening, y’know?”

Shin rolled his eyes. “Point taken.” He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, searching for warmth. “Dunno. It’s not exactly a good idea to roam, is it?”

Keiji gave a slow nod from where he laid, eyes already closed as he crossed his arms behind his head.

“I doubt Gin and Sara are awake—well, honestly, I don’t know.” Shin continued, tapping his foot against the floor rhythmically. “Could explore some places we haven’t been now that we can actually see…”

“Such as?” Keiji shot back.

“Haven’t really checked out the beach where the gazebo is.” Shin tilted his head as he recalled some of the odd places around. “Nor the basement area, or the bar…?”

“Hm… didn’t take you for the type to like romantic walks on the beach.” Keiji shifted on the mattress, rolling onto his side so he could prop his head up with one arm, his hair falling messily over his forehead. The corner of his mouth curved faintly as he watched Shin.

“Who talked about romantic?” Shin raised an eyebrow. “Maybe we could find somethin’, you never know…”

Keiji only hummed in response, his eyes slipping shut again, clearly on the verge of drifting back to sleep.

“You should come—I don’t know how much time it’ll take to do the tasks, so we may not have another chance.” Shin continued, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His gaze flicked to the door, then back to Keiji.

“Hm… it’s too early.” Keiji hummed, his voice low. “And we might not even find anything new.”

He wasn’t exactly wrong, and considering they didn’t know what they would do for the tasks, perhaps it was a bit better if they just waited around—but Shin needed Keiji out of the room, if only to avoid the risk of him finding the SD card before he’d had the chance to find it himself.

“Fine, fine… But I do want to swing by the springs later.” Shin lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. “Either you or Gin has to come then.”

Keiji let out a long sigh as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “Fineee…” he muttered, turning toward the edge and stepping onto the floor with a soft thud.

Shin let a nervous smile tug at his lips—a strange sight, considering the scarf usually hid these kinds of things. Not that it mattered as his gaze didn’t linger on Keiji long enough for him to notice—too much—.

Keiji wasn’t oblivious, though. He tilted his head slightly as he caught the younger man shifting on his feet, his shoulders tense, his face turning away. Still, he paid it no mind, closing his eyes as another yawn slipped out.

“The beach it is, then?” Shin asked, forcing a more easygoing smile as he rubbed the side of his arm with one hand, his body leaning just slightly back as if to keep distance.

Keiji walked up to him, raising a hand to land it firmly on Shin’s head. The touch made Shin’s voice thin out, his mouth falling shut as his cheeks tinted with a faint rosy hue.

“Sure, sure…” Keiji muttered, his hand slipping from Shin’s hair before he took another step. His usual firm frame was gone, replaced by a slouched posture that spoke only of his tiredness.

Like other things as of late, it was odd to see Keiji like this. But it wasn’t something Shin disliked—it felt as though he was seeing through the cracks of that practiced facade, the suave policeman who would rather lose a life-or-death game than talk about his past for more than a sentence or two.

Keiji took another step toward the door, fingers curling around the knob, only then noticing it was already slightly ajar. He pulled it open, letting the harsh light of the hallway spill into the bedroom before lowering himself to the floor and putting his shoes on.

It was only then Shin realized he didn’t have his own shoes on, having stepped out only in his socks. He scanned the floor, spotting his own pair near the bed and crouched down to slip them on.

“That reminds me…” Keiji began, his voice cutting through the silence, still looking mostly at the floor. Shin’s hands froze mid-motion, his gaze flicking up toward him.

“…What were you doing before?”

“Before… what?” Shin asked, tilting his head slightly, a nervous smile tugging at his lips.

“When you were crouching by the bed.” Keiji said bluntly, his voice now clearer, cleaned of the last traces of grogginess.

“…You were awake?” Shin muttered, his fingers fumbling with the heel of his shoe before managing to slip it on. His gaze darted to the side, avoiding Keiji’s eyes, one hand instinctively rising to the edge of his beanie as if to adjust it.

“Well… not really,” Keiji replied, straightening his posture with a lazy stretch, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “You scurrying around woke me up.”

“Ah…” Shin breathed out, standing up as well. “I was just... looking for my shoes.”

Keiji raised a brow, but he didn’t press further, simply humming as he turned toward the door once again. The hinges creaked softly as he stepped out into the hallway, the familiar cold air greeting him immediately.

Just ahead, the large board Shin had mentioned stood mounted against the wall, the ticking of the clock above it echoing faintly in the otherwise quiet corridor. Keiji’s eyes followed the second hand’s slow rhythm, the seconds slipping away before his own eyes.

7:32 AM

Plenty of time before breakfast, and even more before the day’s tasks began. Enough time, perhaps, to check in on Sara and Gin—see what rewards they had received the previous day. If they were willing to share, that is.

His gaze shifted down to the neatly written list below, his index finger tracing over the lines as he read. Sara—kitchen duty. Gin—technician duty.

He frowned faintly at that last one. Technician duty wasn’t difficult—Kugie herself had said to him it consisted mostly of making sure things worked correctly rather than repairing them, but it was a task that sent you straight into the boiler room’s stifling heat and humming machinery. A kid shouldn’t have to endure that.

Soon enough, the faint sound of footsteps reached him. Shin trailed behind, pulling the door shut with a quiet click.

“Let’s get going then?” Shin said, voice low, his hands slipping back into his pockets.

Keiji turned, meeting his eyes. It made him wonder, what exactly had made him wander out without his shoes in the first place? And what had he been searching for while thinking he was asleep?

“Sure, sure,” Keiji finally replied, letting that easy grin curve back onto his lips. “let’s check if Sara and Gin are awake first.”

Shin nodded, brushing past him. His shoes thudded hard against the wooden floor as he walked towards the common room, then softened as he reached the staircase, the sound fading as he descended.

Keiji lingered a moment longer before slipping one hand into his pocket. His fingers brushed against cold metal—first the tiny microphone box he’d removed from the Meister doll, and then the smooth, familiar shape of an SD card.

His thumb traced its edge.

So that’s what he’d been looking for.

A long exhale escaped his nostrils. Seems like he wanted to keep the SD card a secret after all. Where had he even gotten it? He must’ve known he’d come across something that could read it—laptop or otherwise. That would also explain why he kept quiet about the laptop to begin with… but why?

“You coming?” Shin’s voice broke through his trail of thoughts, echoing from the staircase.

“Right behind you…” Keiji replied quietly, marching forward to catch up.

The lobby looked the same as always cold and lonely—and there was no sight of Gin or Sara anywhere.

“G-Good mor-morning!” a familiar voice stammered on her words—Hinako. Her usual cheery tone had turned into a trembling voice.

Shin rolled his eyes, walking around the couches without so much as a glance, offering only a curt bow before continuing on his way.

“Yo.” Keiji greeted her, stepping closer to the desk. She looked… different.

Her appearance hadn’t changed—the same black-haired middle school girl in her uniform—but her demeanor certainly had. Unlike before, her hands weren’t resting on the counter, they sat neatly in her lap instead. And her eyes—once sharp and defiant whenever someone looked her way—barely lifted from the floor now.

She looked… reserved.

“Something… wrong…?” She asked timidly, her gaze flickering up to meet his before darting away again.

Keiji tilted his head. Too weird. “Er—Not really,” he said after a pause. “Have Sara and Gin gone out of their room yet?”

Hinako shook her head in response.

“I see…” Keiji whispered. It was still early, after all, he couldn’t blame them for sleeping in until it was time to do the tasks. Still, he wanted to speak with them before then if he could.

He briefly turned around, intending to head toward Gin's room—he’d seen them go there the previous night—but another voice stopped him.

“You should let them sleep.”

It was a woman’s voice—calm, and confident. Different from Hinako’s juvenile voice, and far different from Sara’s voice

He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, yet he did anyway.

“Miss Megumi.” Keiji greeted, his tone polite. “Good morning.”

“Hm…” She hummed, stepping closer before leaning against one of the couches. “Good morning, Shinogi.”

And then, silence.

She didn’t add anything more, and neither did he. There was no need.

He stepped away from Hinako’s desk, choosing the exit over walking to Gin’s bedroom. He didn’t care for Megumi’s advice—or her order—but he also didn’t want another reason to hear her voice. So, he left.

Outside, the cold met him instantly. Not the creeping chill that clung to the hotel halls, nor the comfortable cold of his room. The breeze carried the sting of salt and the soft sound of waves crashing, accompanied by the faint crunch of sand under his shoes. The beach he hadn't really seen.

The scent, the light, even the texture beneath his feet—it all mimicked the real thing. He lowered his sleeves and buried his hands deeper in his pockets as he walked forward, eyes drifting toward the lone gazebo in the distance.

Shin stood near the shoreline past the gazebo, both arms wrapped tightly around himself as he burrowed deeper into his jacket. “It’s too… cold!” He complained, sniffling, his nose already red from the cold.

“What did you expect…?” Keiji asked as he caught up, a faint smirk appearing on his lips once more. “Never been to a beach at dawn?”

Shin turned at the sound of his voice, another sniffle escaping him before he answered, “Of course I have…” He pulled one hand from his jacket to wipe his nose with the back of his wrist. “I just didn’t expect them to emulate the ambiance so… well.”

Keiji came to stand beside him, lifting his gaze toward the east. The sea stretched endlessly, the waves trembling with fractured reflections of the sun that had long risen. The wind came strong again, carrying a salty mist that stung faintly against his cheeks. He squinted against the light, strands of his hair falling forward, and raised a hand to brush them aside.

“Seems they even got the direction of the sun right.” Keiji muttered.

The sky above them was a pale wash of gold and orange. It felt too real for a place that wasn’t supposed to be. It looked too beautiful for a place that was nothing but a torture chamber.

“Think the water’s any cold...?” Keiji asked, glancing toward the waves before turning his head again—only to find Shin’s gaze fixed somewhere far past him. The words faltered on his tongue, his smirk fading without him realizing.

Shin wasn’t looking at him—at least, not directly. His eyes were lost somewhere far off, reflecting the pale shimmer of the sea. The sunlight caught on his lashes, gilding the edges of his hair, and for a moment, his usual guarded expression softened. The faint pink on his nose now blended with the red across his cheeks.

Keiji felt his breath catch. It wasn’t the scenery that held his focus anymore—it was him. The way Shin’s hair moved faintly with the wind, the way his lips parted ever so slightly. It was too easy to forget everything else in that instant.

Then, realizing where his mind had wandered, Keiji tore his gaze away. His throat felt strangely dry, his own cheeks stinging—not just from the salty air this time. He coughed lightly into his hand and looked toward the sea again, pretending to study the horizon. The flush beneath his skin was quick to betray him, however.

“Sorry…” Shin’s soft voice broke through the rhythm of the crashing waves. “Did you say something?”

Keiji kept his hand loosely over the lower half of his face, hiding the heat spreading across his cheeks. “Nothin’ important.” He muttered, his voice soft.

Shin’s eyes shifted and lingered on him for a moment, narrowing slightly as if studying him. It was then that he noticed the faint pink climbing up Keiji’s face, the way it reached the tips of his ears. “Are you cold as well...?” He asked, his tone equally as soft. A sympathetic smile tugged at his lips as he tilted his head slightly.

Before Keiji could answer, Shin’s hand lifted, the tips of his fingers brushing against Keiji’s sleeve, a small, fleeting contact meant only to check if he was cold.

The reaction was immediate. Keiji froze, every muscle in his body tightening as if the simple touch had sent an electric shock through him. His breath caught again, even his usual posture faltered. The warmth of Shin’s fingertips against the fabric of the sleeves on his arm was barely there, yet he felt it clearly. For a split second, his mind went blank—no practiced smirk, no easy remark to fall back on—just the sharp awareness of Shin's touch.

He didn’t move his arm, allowing Shin’s touch to linger—those light fingertips soon curling just slightly around his sleeve, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin fabric.

“Yeah, yeah, just a bit.” Keiji blurted a little too fast, stepping back to break the contact. Shin’s hand slipped away, falling loosely to his side before disappearing back into the folds of his jacket for warmth. He didn't seem to mind, or to have even noticed Keiji’s reaction.

“I wanted to check out the beach,” Shin said, glancing around with a squint. “But I didn’t think it would extend so far.”

He was right. No matter where they looked, the scenery stretched endlessly—rolling sand dunes and the relentless crash of waves against the shore. The horizon seemed to go on forever, blurring where the golden sky met the restless sea. The only signs of civilization were the hotel behind them, the distant gazebo, the small bathroom shack, and the hot springs tucked beyond the building.

“I’ve been wondering…” Shin’s voice broke the silence again. “Do you think this place is some kind of… stage?”

“A… stage?” Keiji repeated, brow raising slightly as his eyes flicked toward him.

“Yeah. I mean, last floor we were looking at the moon inside a building—a green screen, of course.” Shin’s gaze drifted toward the ocean, lost in thought. “So maybe this place is also manufactured. Like… a movie set, or a stage.”

Keiji’s brow furrowed, his hand falling from his face as he mulled over the idea. It wasn’t far-fetched—not after everything. The waves, the horizon, the sun—they could all be projections for all he knew. Nothing in this place had ever made sense, and deep down, he doubted it ever would.

“Probably not far from the truth.” He muttered at last, scratching the back of his head as a gust of wind swept past, ruffling both their hair and carrying with it the hollow scent of salt.

Then… silence. Only the hiss of wind between them, whistling faintly against their ears. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. Whatever Shin had planned to do—whatever purpose had brought them here—was long forgotten, buried in the sand just like how their shoes kept sinking inch by inch beneath it.

Shin lowered himself slowly, squatting down until his arms wrapped loosely around his knees. His hair fluttered faintly with the breeze, the strands brushing against his forehead. “You wondered earlier if the water was cold, right?” He asked, his voice barely rising over the crash of waves. His eyes were fixed on the surf that crept closer with every time the waves crashed against the shore, stopping just centimeters away from their feet before retreating again.

Keiji blinked, pulled back into the moment by the sound of Shin’s voice. He looked down at him, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips before he followed suit, easing himself down and sitting directly on the sand. “Well… it probably is.” He muttered, glancing toward the waves.

“Why would they even emulate that as well?”

The question lingered between them, unanswered—well, unanswerable.

What was the point of any of it? The cold that lingered in the hotel halls. The wind that tugged at their clothes. The sand that clung stubbornly to their skin and making it itch. The sun that rose from the east and fell in the west, so perfectly real.

What was the reason for the water to be so cold, if the world around them wasn’t even real?

They didn’t know.

They didn’t know anything at all.

They didn’t know why they were taken. Why they were forced into these games. Why it had to be them.

Keiji extended an arm toward the shore, palm open as a small wave crept close. Just before it could retreat again, he dipped his hand into the shallow puddle of seawater.

The cold hit immediately. He jerked back with a sharp inhale, shaking the droplets off as he hissed through his teeth. “It’s freezing!”

A snort escaped Shin as he buried his head between his knees, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “What did you expect!” he managed to say between short breaths, his voice cracking slightly from the effort.

Keiji rolled his eyes, brushing off the teasing with a faint grin. “You never know.” He mused.

He leaned back, planting both hands into the cool sand behind him, letting his weight rest on his arms. The wind tousled his blond hair, sun catching in the strands until they almost glimmered like pale gold. From the corner of his eye, he caught Shin watching him—and when he turned his head, their gazes met. Just for a moment. Just long enough for both of them to look away again, pretending it hadn’t happened.

Silence followed, filled only by the crash of the waves and the hum of wind threading through their hair. Shin could hear the faint rhythm of his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears, it was far too fast.

Something about the light made him unable to look away from Keiji. The way the sunlight bounced off his blond hair, the gentle flicker of gold in the corner of his lashes, the way his shirt clung tightly to his body, the way the grey hue of his eyes caught the reflection of the ocean’s clear blue…

Shin couldn’t look away. He wanted to—but the longer he stared, the tighter something twisted in his chest. The feeling was a mistake. He knew that. It didn’t matter what he felt, what he thought he’d accepted long ago. It didn’t matter now, and it never would.

And yet… he found himself moving closer. A small shift at first, the scrape of sand beneath him, until his shoulder brushed against Keiji’s arm. The contact made Keiji tense just slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

They said nothing.

Not when Shin leaned in further, their arms brushing.

Not when Keiji’s gaze lowered, his hand lifting almost instinctively, fingertips brushing Shin’s chin to tilt it upward.

Not when he leaned closer, breath catching faintly as their faces met halfway.

Their lips touched once—tentative. Then again, slower this time, both of them leaning into the contact, the warmth, the fleeting illusion of comfort. It wasn’t desperate, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was the kind of kiss that said everything they couldn’t bear to speak.

Shin’s hand rose almost on its own, curling into Keiji’s shirt, tugging him closer. The movement pulled Keiji down with him, their balance lost in the sand as Shin’s back met the ground. Keiji’s weight pressed over him, and for a brief, trembling second, the world went quiet as their lips remained locked together.

They said nothing. Not a word.

He loved this feeling. He loved what was happening. He loved the way one of Keiji’s arms stayed firm against the ground beside his head, the way the other hand shifted from cupping his chin to holding him still, thumb tracing lazy circles along his neck. He loved it—he couldn’t get enough of it. He wanted it to keep going, to push further, even with the cold air biting at them and the sand scraping against his skin. Nothing else mattered. Not the world, not the guilt, not the past—only this dizzying rush that drowned everything out.

For a fleeting moment, even the weight of his sins lifted. His breath left him, and with it, the reminder that he was still human, still breakable, still a burden. He loved every second of it, because he knew that once it stopped—once the kiss ended—everything he’d tried to escape would come crashing back.

He loved it. And he feared it.

His free hand left the sand where it rested, moving with a kind of trembling certainty until it found the back of Keiji’s head. Fingers slipped through his blond hair, tangling slightly as Shin pulled him closer, his palm pressing lightly against the nape of his neck. The gesture wasn’t rough—it was desperate, like holding onto a feeling that might vanish if he let go. His knees bent, propping upward, closing the distance between them as Keiji hovered between his legs. The world narrowing to the faint warmth of Keiji’s breath and the sound of their uneven breathing over the sound of the crashing waves.

Then—

A sharp, piercing ring shattered everything. The sound came from somewhere nearby. That same bell they’d heard when they first arrived—Meister’s bell.

They broke apart instantly. Shin’s hands flew up to his ears, his body curling inward as the shrill noise reverberated in his skull. Keiji winced beside him, one hand pressed to his ear while the other dug into his pocket, pulling out the small microphone he’d taken from the Meister doll. The ringing came from it—and from everywhere at once, echoing through the empty beach until finally, it stopped.

A jingle came on the unseen intercoms, then a voice filled the air.

“Good morning, participants!” Meister’s bright tone rang out. “It is now eight in the morning—time for breakfast! Gather all around the gazebo, please, and respect the time schedules!”

The same jingle that opened his speech, also closed it.

Both of them lowered their hands once the noise finally stopped, an audible exhale escaping them in near unison.

“Don’t tchell me that noish is going to come out of thish thing every tchime…” Keiji muttered, his voice slurred as he held out the small mic between his fingers.

Shin’s eyes flicked toward it—then to Keiji. His breath caught. There, at the corner of Keiji’s lip, a small bead of red welled and trickled down. The sight made him freeze. Keiji noticed immediately, raising a hand to his mouth and swiping away the blood that had started to gather.

“You bit my tchonge.” Keiji mumbled, forcing the words out carefully, his tone equal parts pained and amused.

“I did not!” Shin shot back defensively, sitting upright.

But as the protest left his mouth, something metallic lingered on his tongue after it touched his teeth. A coppery sting. He hesitated, then brushed his tongue against his teeth—and realized what it was. Blood. Not his.

A wave of disgust hit him. He spat quickly into the sand, trying to rid himself of the taste.

Keiji snorted beside him, clearly entertained by the reaction, though his smirk faltered soon after—the sting in his tongue making it hard to keep up the act.

Keiji pushed himself up at last, brushing the sand from his clothes and hair with a few rough swipes. He glanced down at Shin, who was still crouched low, his tongue lolling from his mouth as he spat repeatedly into the sand, trying to erase the taste that refused to fade.

A small chuckle escaped Keiji before he extended a hand toward him.

Shin glared up at him through a curtain of strands of hair but took the offered hand anyway. Keiji’s grip was firm and steady, pulling him easily to his feet. Shin immediately busied himself with brushing the sand from his clothes—his sleeves, his pants, even the back of his neck.

At a distance, the gazebo Meister had mentioned stood quietly against the horizon from the far west—the same one where they’d eaten dinner the night before. It only had the long table and its eight empty chairs bathed within it, not a soul in sight.

Shin let go of Keiji’s hand, wiping his palm against his pants before raising it to flick away the sand clinging to his cheek. Without another glance, he turned on his heel and started toward the gazebo.

Keiji watched him go for a moment, a sigh caught somewhere behind his lips. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pocketed the small mic, and felt around for the sharper edge of the SD card still tucked away. He made sure it was there before following Shin.

Together, they approached the gazebo. Still no one there. Just the sound of the waves, the whisper of the wind, and the faint crunch of sand beneath their feet.

Shin sat down on one of the empty chairs, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the wooden surface of the table. His eyes flicked toward Keiji for a moment, clearly waiting for him to sit.

Would it be strange if Keiji sat beside him? Especially now, with all these empty seats? The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind before—this sudden awareness of proximity, of where they might fit in relation to each other. And yet, here he was, quietly overthinking something so simple it felt absurd.

He didn’t have an answer, which was probably the worst part of it all.

A light touch on his shoulder startled him, breaking through his trail of thoughts. He turned quickly—Sara stood there, a gentle smile on her face, Gin at her side clinging to her sleeve. He hadn’t even heard their footsteps approach.

“You’re both pretty early, meow!” Gin chirped as he scrambled onto the chair directly across from Shin.

“I work better in the mornings…” Shin replied, resting his head against his propped arm, his tone flat but not unfriendly.

“Wish I was like that…” Sara murmured as she moved around the table, taking the seat next to Gin.

And just like that, the unspoken question answered itself—because now, the only logical seat left was the one right beside Shin.

“Ehh… you’re not missing much.” Keiji muttered with a grin, circling around to the open chair. He dragged it back slightly and sat down beside Shin, the faint scrape of the legs against the wooden floor filling the brief silence.

But as soon as he spoke, a sharp pang shot through his tongue. His smile faltered into a wince before he could stop it.

“Something wrong?” Sara asked immediately, concern flickering in her voice as she leaned forward.

Keiji waved his hands quickly, shaking his head. “Just bit my tongue, no biggie.”

“Ah!” Gin gasped, eyes wide. “That hurts so baaad, woof!”

Keiji chuckled softly at his reaction, though his expression still tensed faintly with pain. Shin, from the corner of his eye, watched the exchange quietly—his lips pressing together, the faint trace of a smirk appearing on his mouth.

“Pretty careless of you.” Shin mocked, his smirk in full view now.

Keiji chuckled under his breath, shooting him a sidelong glance as his own grin returned. “Oh, I don’t know about that…” He murmured, his tone sarcastic.

Before Shin could reply, a loud clap cut clean through their exchange, snapping shut their idle chatter.

Behind them stood a tall woman in a familiar uniform—Megumi. In her hands, she carried several plates and sets of cutlery, her expression calm but focused. The one who’d clapped, however, was Mishima, standing beside a small serving cart loaded with trays of steaming food.

“Make some space, please…” Megumi said politely, weaving between them with practiced grace. She began setting down the plates and utensils one by one, the faint clinking of porcelain against wood filling the air.

Once she was done, Mishima stepped forward, quietly placing each dish onto the newly arranged plates. The smell filled the air as the dishes were set down.

Megumi straightened, giving the group a short bow before retreating to the corner of the gazebo, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

Mishima, on the other hand, was unnervingly quiet. Not a word left his lips as he arranged the dishes. Worse, his face was completely still. No smile, no warmth, no trace of the gentle and awkward professor they all knew.

“Old guy…?” Gin’s voice trembled slightly, his expression growing grim as he leaned forward, watching Mishima’s every move.

“Yes…?” The professor finally responded, his tone calm but flat, halting his movements as he turned his head toward the boy.

Gin froze. His lips parted as if to speak again, but no sound came out. His wide eyes flickered between Mishima’s expression and his own hands on the table, as though he were trying to convince himself this wasn’t wrong—yet every part of it was.

Keiji leaned back in his chair, his smirk fading completely. “Aren’t you acting a bit strange, Mishima?”

Mishima didn’t answer at first. He finished setting down a plate, then straightened his back. “I don’t believe I am.” He said firmly, and placed the last dish in silence.

Before anyone could respond, a small, hesitant voice broke through the air.

“G–Good morning…” Hinako stepped into the gazebo, her tone wavering between nervousness and forced cheer. “Ah… Seems I got here in time…”

Sara blinked, exchanging a confused glance with Keiji before returning the greeting. “Good… morning?” Her voice faltered, her unease mirroring everyone else’s.

Shin exhaled loudly, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Barely eight in the morning, and he was already pretty done for the day.

“Well…” Keiji muttered, his gaze sweeping thetable. “Aren’t we missing one?” He slung one arm casually over the back of his chair.

“I believe Kugie will arrive shortly.” Mishima replied, giving him a short, polite bow before sitting down next to Sara—making her flinch slightly at the sudden closeness.

“Y-Yeah… she’s probably still busy.” Hinako added, her tone quieter now as she took a seat across from him.

Keiji’s eyes shifted toward the corner, where Megumi still stood stilll—hands clasped, expression neutral. “Not gonna sit down?” He asked.

“I’ll sit once everyone else is seated,” she answered smoothly. “someone has to make sure nothing is amiss.”

No one touched the food. The warm scent of freshly cooked meals filled the space, but not a single hand reached out. They all just sat there, glancing at one another, waiting for someone—anyone—to make the first move.

“Is… something wrong with the food…?” Mishima finally asked, his eyes shifting around the table, his tone slightly concerned.

“Er—just not really that hungry, I guess.” Keiji replied, forcing a shrug.

“I see…” Mishima murmured, the faintest trace of disappointment softening his face.

“No, woof!” Gin suddenly barked, breaking the tension. “I—I…! I am hungry, meow!”

Every head turned toward him as he eagerly reached for the dishes, piling generous servings onto his plate. Fork and knife in hand as he began eating with surprising vigor, the sound of utensils clinking filling the uneasy silence.

“Well, that’s… great…?” Mishima muttered, a nervous smile pulling awkwardly at his lips as he watched the boy eat.

But somehow, that was all it took. Gin’s innocent enthusiasm seemed to snap everyone out of their hesitation. Soon, plates began to clatter softly, the aroma of food finally matched by motion. The murmur of casual chatter returned to the table, still quiet, but enough to fill the silence.

“So…” Keiji started, glancing between the dolls seated at the table, “what’s with the, er—strange way of talking today?”

“Sorry…” Hinako mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper, apologizing for something she clearly didn’t understand.

“Nothing wrong, again…” Mishima said immediately, echoing his previous words.

Keiji frowned slightly. “Well… it’s just that today you’re all—”

“—A little out of character.” Shin finished for him, his tone flat as he swirled mindlessly a spoon over his bowl of soup with rice.

“Yeah… just a bit…” Sara added quietly, raising her cup to her lips, watching the dolls over the rim as she took a slow sip of water.

“Ah… I believe I can answer that,” Megumi said at last, her voice low. “Mister Meister mentioned our… personality programs could change depending on the time.”

“What? Like some kind of clock with a personality?” Shin muttered, his brows knitting together.

“Sort of…” Hinako whispered, almost as if she were afraid to speak at all.

The table went quiet again. So depending on the hour, they could get either the cold, sociopathic Hinako from before—or the timid one sitting before them now? The idea twisted uneasily in everyone’s mind. What purpose could that possibly serve? Was it just another layer of control… or some kind of experiment?

“I see you are all here!”

A sudden, high-pitched squeal sliced through the silence. All heads turned toward the voice immediately.

“How great! It’s been a while since I sat with sooo many people!” The girl who came skipping toward the table wore Kugie Kizuchi’s face, but the way she moved—the way she beamed—was anything but familiar. Gone was the stern and assertive demeanor she had shown the night before. In its place was someone bright, bubbly, almost childish.

“Finally came to join us, Kugie?” Mishima asked, his tone light as he patted the empty chair beside him.

“Yesss!” she squealed again, plopping down into her seat and swinging her legs cheerfully under the table.

“Hello there, Miss Kugie…” Megumi greeted, stepping forward at last. She circled around the table with her usual composure, setting herself down in the only remaining open chair—right beside Keiji.

He went completely still. Not out of fear, but discomfort. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, pretending she wasn’t there at all, shoulders squared, jaw tight, every bit of him making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her.

Sara gulped dryly, coughing as she almost choked on her drink, clearly surprised just as the rest of them.

“Are you Sara?! The Sara Chidouin?!” Kugie blurted out, eyes sparkling as she leaned forward across the table, nearly knocking over the cup opposite to her. Her voice carried that excitable, childlike pitch of someone meeting a celebrity. “I've heard so much about you!”

“That so...?” Sara replied cautiously, a forced smile tugging at her lips.

“Yes! You took care of my sister, right?” Kugie chirped again, clasping her hands together and inching even closer, elbows pressing against the table as if she were hanging onto every word.

At that, a sharp, strangled cough broke through the room. Shin nearly spat out the soup in his mouth, his face contorting as he fought to swallow the burning liquid back down. The mention of her hit like a slap, dredging up memories he had fought so desperately to bury. He hacked again, clutching his throat as his eyes watered, every muscle in his body going tense.

Sara looked just as uncomfortable at the mention, stifling a light cough behind the back of her hand. “I wouldn’t say that…” She murmured, her voice soft.

“The lonely guy dealt more with her… meow…” Gin added as he peeked up from his plate.

“Lone… Ah! Mister Tsukimi?” Kugie perked up immediately, turning her bright gaze toward Shin. “Hope she wasn’t too much of a bother!”

Shin wiped the corner of his mouth, his hand lingering there, covering half his face to hide the flicker of emotion breaking through. “She… She wasn’t…”

“I disagree!” Kugie’s voice cut through him like a blade. “After all, there’s a reason she’s not here anymore, isn’t there?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

Even the other dolls seemed to catch on to the curtness of Kugie’s words—all except for Kugie herself. They stayed silent, their eyes darting between one another but saying nothing, letting the tension hang around them.

“What’s with… what’s with the sudden silence, guys…?” Kugie asked again, her voice trembling slightly as she looked around the table, oblivious to what she’d just said.

Her words were met only by the sharp scrape of a chair being pushed back. The sound echoed harshly in the quiet space.

Shin rose from his seat, using the table for support. His movements were slow and mechanical. His face—completely blank. Not unreadable or composed, just… empty. A hollow shell where emotion used to be.

“Excuse me.” He said, his tone flat and polite to a fault. He gave a shallow bow to the table before turning, stepping carefully around Keiji and Megumi to reach the small open space that served as an exit.

“Shin—” Keiji called out, his hand shooting out on instinct, but he stopped himself halfway, fingers hovering in the air. He froze, watching Shin’s back as he walked away. He didn't blame Shin for his outburst right now. He could sympathize. And worse, he understood that perhaps, maybe, it was better to leave him be. Even if it was only for a moment.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The sudden male voice cut through them as the owner of the voice walked through the entrance of the gazebo.

Before Shin could leave, a firm hand caught his arm, yanking him back with startling force. His body jolted in resistance as he tried to wrench himself free, shoulders tensing, breath catching in his throat. Meister’s grip didn’t relent. He stepped fully into the gazebo, dragging Shin along as though he weighed nothing.

“Haven’t had a proper breakfast, have you?” Meister said lightly, completely amused, ignoring the way Shin’s arm strained under his grip.

Shin twisted against him, teeth gritted, the blankness on his face fracturing. A flicker of discomfort showed first—tightening around the eyes, the tremor of his lip—then anger began to make itself clear.

“Let me go—!” Shin protested against his grip, but Meister didn’t even flinch. With one harsh motion, he flung Shin’s arm downward, his grip still locked as he slammed him back into the chair he’d just left. The impact rattled the tableware, the echo of it swallowing the stunned silence that followed.

“Stay there until I give my speech at least…” Meister barked, that familiar shit-eating grin stretching across his face.

Shin opened his mouth, ready to protest again, but the words died as he  shut his mouth. In one sharp motion, he yanked his arms free from Meister’s grasp, twisting just enough to break the hold. The tension in his shoulders remained, but he refused to give Meister the satisfaction of seeing him flinch further.

Clicking his tongue, he pivoted back toward the table, keeping his gaze low. He picked up the spoon in his bowl, letting the warmth of the food steady him.

“Hi, Meister!” Kugie’s voice rang cheerily again, cutting through the tension as she waved and smiled at him.

“Why, hello there, little miss!” Meister replied with a playful bow, tipping his hat with exaggerated flair before striding to the end of the table. “First off… I’m quite happy with all of you respecting the time schedule!” Meister continued, his voice carrying across the gazebo. “Hm… And I hope breakfast is as good as it smells—!”

“—Just be done with it—” Shin interjected, his foot drumming impatiently under the table.

“—Quiet down, Shin.” Meister said sternly, letting out a small sigh. “I’m here to communicate that, at the time of your tasks, I will be by the lobby… And if anyone is feeling up for my task… all you have to do is ask…” He finished with a formal bow before excusing himself from the gazebo.

Once again, silence reclaimed the table. Not even the clinking of utensils pierced the air—only the strained, expectant expressions of those seated, their eyes flicking toward Shin as if waiting for him to rise again. But he didn’t. His fingers gripped the metal spoon tightly, knuckles pale, while his feet tapped against the floor in a restless, relentless rhythm.

A soft cough cut through the air—it was Hinako. “I’ll be heading to the nurse’s office… You guys can start your tasks early if you’d like…"

“That’s an amazing idea, Hinako!” Kugie interjected, giving a single sharp clap. “I’ll also be by the lobby!”

“I suppose that’s my cue…” Mishima said next, rising from his chair. “I’ll be up at the bar… don’t be late.”

“Then I’ll move as well…” Megumi added, carefully wiping her already clean hands on a napkin before standing alongside Mishima. “I’ll be by the common room on the second floor.”

And with that, they all departed, their footsteps echoing across the gazebo floor, fading into the distance until only the soft, empty quiet remained.

Their meals went untouched for a second time, steam fading into the morning air as the four of them sat in uneasy silence. Each pair of eyes lingered on the untouched dishes, then flicked toward the gazebo’s empty seats—each one of them quietly wondering the same thing. Should they follow after the dolls? Stay a little longer? Say something?

Gin was the first to move, swallowing dryly before setting his utensils down with a faint clatter. “I don’t like the bucket girl’s sister too much, meow…” He muttered.

“That’s an… understatement.” Keiji replied, mirroring the boy’s gesture as he laid his utensils aside. His gaze drifted toward Shin—still wordless, still staring down into the bowl before him, the reflection of the cooling soup trembling faintly with each tap of his restless fingers against the table.

“Do you think they’re trying to provoke us?” Sara asked, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin, her voice quiet.

“Wouldn’t be too strange…” Keiji began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just don’t quite know why they would, though.”

“Something, something about the Main Game, I guess…” Shin murmured, finally raising the spoon to his lips, taking a slow sip of the broth that had already gone lukewarm.

Keiji exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair. “Most likely…”

A shared sigh swept across the table. They all knew what the words Main Game implied—but beyond that, there was nothing concrete. No clear reason for the doll’s weird behavior, no clue what their strange provocation meant. Only small knowledge of the cards, the tasks, and the promise of some unknown advantage waiting ahead. The rest was nothing but blank.

“Kitchen and technician duties, right?” Keiji broke the silence again, glancing at the pair across from him.

Sara nodded, Gin following a second later. “You had technician duty yesterday, right?” Sara asked.

“…Indeed,” Keiji replied with a slow nod. “wasn’t anything too difficult, but…” He crossed his arms on the table, his tone growing firm. “I’d rather none of you had to go down that hatch.”

Gin’s voice came out in a soft, defeated whine. “But we can’t switch, meow…”

“Not without the means,” Keiji said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “...Or whatever that was supposed to mean.”

Shin finally pushed his bowl aside with a soft scrape, the metal spoon clinking faintly. “Probably some kind of advantage you earn as a reward for doing the tasks…” He said.

Sara perked up, nodding in agreement. “That would make a lot of sense!”

“Not exactly a good thing, though.” Shin turned his head toward the group. “Means we have to do the tasks—ignoring them gives us nothing.”

“Which is a problem by itself…” Keiji replied, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Anyhow…” He stood up, the utensils on his plate clinking softly as he moved. “No need to stay here if we can begin early.”

“You wanna start early, woof?” Gin’s surprise was palpable.

“Of course. Means we finish early, too.” Keiji flashed him a light smile, earning a grimace from the boy.

“It’s a pretty good idea, Gin!” Sara added, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.

“I don’t waaannaaa…” Gin whined, his voice stretching out the words.

Shin rolled his eyes—not at Gin, not even at Keiji, but at the sheer ease of it all. How quickly they had settled back into calm. They didn’t react, not really. Barely even acknowledged what had just happened.

Was he the strange one, then? Was he overreacting?

His gaze drifted between them, catching the soft curve of their smiles, the small chuckles that rippled across the table. As if nothing had happened. As if nothing ever happened.

He straightened slightly, forcing a slow breath into his lungs. His heart thudded in time with it. The pulse reached his hands, weak and trembling. He didn’t have the strength to lift the spoon anymore, much less himself. Maybe it was overthinking. Maybe this—like so many things—was just him spiraling out of control again.

Sara and Gin rose, waving their goodbyes as they left to begin their tasks. Their voices fading as they were swallowed by the distance.

Shin didn’t look up until he felt a shadow fall over him.

“Don’t feel like going?” Keiji asked, his tone gentle as his figure loomed beside the chair.

Shin’s eyes shifted toward him, but not much else. “That’s not…” he muttered, his voice cracking off before the words could form.

Why was he like this? Why did it always come back to this?

They were gone—every one of them. Moving forward was the only choice left. And still, he couldn’t.

Why couldn’t he ever let go? Why did Hiyori still cling to him even after death? Why did Kanna’s face still burn behind his eyelids? Why did all of them stay so heavy in his chest, suffocating him bit by bit?

Was it because some of their blood was on his hands?

“It really isn’t… that…” Shin said again, softer this time, the words barely above a whisper.

Keiji tilted his head, watching him carefully. “Then what is it?”

Shin didn’t answer. He didn’t know.

He never knew.

He let out a long exhale, the sound barely audible over the quiet rustle of the waves in the distance. “Dunno.” he finally said, his voice low, almost tired.

“Hm… how odd, then.” He rested a hand on the table, leaning into it casually, though his eyes never left Shin.

It wasn’t difficult to see that something still lingered behind that empty look. Keiji had seen it before, countless times. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, or that he didn’t want to help—but he’d learned that pressing Shin when he was like this would do no good. Shin would speak when he wanted to. Until then, Keiji could only wait.

And truthfully, he didn’t need words to know. It was the same weight that clung to his own shoulders, just wearing a different face. Remembering hurt more than forgetting ever could, and maybe that was why he stayed silent too.

He extended a hand toward the younger man, his voice calm but firm. “We should get going, then.”

“…Aren’t you persistent?” Shin asked, finally lifting his gaze, his expression caught somewhere between resignation and faint amusement.

“As well as hopeless, as you keep saying.” Keiji’s lips curved into a half-smirk.

Shin huffed, a small sound that could almost be mistaken for a laugh. He reached out, his slender fingers brushing Keiji’s before taking hold of his hand, letting himself be pulled upright.

They parted ways soon enough—Keiji’s tasks were on the first floor, while Shin’s were on the second.

Megumi wasn’t too talkative. She mostly just gave him directions as they cleaned the common room, explaining which products to use or how to handle certain stains. She was… oddly polite, even, despite being the one clearly in charge.

“Are you and Shinogi sleeping together?”

The question hit him like a brick to the head.

“Excuse me...?” Shin set down the cleaning supplies and turned to look at her.

She didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she kept sweeping, her voice calm and measured as she repeated, “Are you and Shi—”

“—No need to repeat your question!” Shin blurted out, his cheeks already burning red.

Megumi gave a small bow of apology.

How... How did she know? Were they really being that careless?

Wait—was it even a secret? They’d never exactly talked about it. Kurumada had picked up on it instantly, but that hardly counted. They hadn’t acknowledged anything—to anyone, or even to themselves.

“I mean... yes, but—it’s not serious!” Shin panicked, waving his hands in front of his face. “I—uh, I don’t know what kind of relationship you two had, or if you even—!” He stumbled over his words, tugging at his collar. “It just kind of happened—no, not that, it just—happened once! I mean, sure, we make out sometimes and stick together, but it’s not serious! Really, it’s not—”

“—I meant,” Megumi interjected softly, still sweeping, “are you and Shinogi sleeping together in the same room?”

Shin froze.

“Oh.” The word escaped him in a small, deflated breath. His hands dropped to his sides.

“Sorry…” She said quietly.

“It’s, uh... alright.” Shin mumbled, clearing his throat. “Why did you ask...?”

“To know whether we should clean your assigned room…” she replied. “It was almost completely untouched yesterday.”

That... made sense. She did clean the bedrooms, after all. And now—well, he’d just revealed a secret he wasn’t even sure was a secret.

“I see…” Shin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “We are, uh... sleeping in the same room. No need to clean mine.”

“Thanks…” Megumi replied simply, and that was that.

Silence returned to the hall. The only sound left was the soft, steady rhythm of Megumi’s broom brushing against the floorboards.

Below, the first floor was equally quiet.

Keiji and Hinako were inside the infirmary. She was showing him the different items around the room, and while handing him a list, she said softly, “Just need you to count inventory.”

“Just that?” Keiji asked, sounding a little surprised.

“Do report anything amiss…” Hinako added, bowing politely before stepping aside. She returned to her small chair in the corner of the room, another list in hand, reviewing its contents in silence.

If that was today’s task, he hoped the others had it just as easy.

He opened the glass door of a white cabinet and began to count each tool inside. When he moved on to the drawers, though, his hand slowed.

Inside laid a syringe.

Not just any syringe—the same one he’d used on Shin before. There was only one of its kind listed, and according to the inventory sheet, there was indeed just one accounted for.

Lying beside it was a small page—it was another list.

He picked it up carefully, scanning the text. He recognized it. It was the same one Shin had mentioned before—the list containing all their medical records: blood types, allergies, medications…

His eyes darted down the page, quickly matching details, then flicking back to the list Hinako had handed him. Everything aligned. Bags of blood for each of them were neatly recorded… except there was only one that matched Shin’s blood type. Just as he’d said.

Keiji exhaled quietly and slid the page back into the drawer. His hand lingered for a moment before he picked up the syringe instead. It felt lighter than he remembered.

“Its even able to tell you your blood type with just oneee prick.” Hinako’s voice came from behind him, still sat in her chair.

“Mind if I try?” Keiji asked, glancing back.

“Sure, go ahead!” Hinako replied brightly, lifting her gaze from the stack of papers in her hands.

He turned the syringe over a few times, examining it from every angle before pressing the small button at its back. The needle extended with a soft click. With a practiced steadiness, he pricked the tip of his index finger, watching as a single droplet of blood slid into the glass vial. Just as Hinako said, the crystal glowed faintly, and faint letters shimmered across its surface: AB+.

It was correct.

“See? Pretty cool!” Hinako said, smiling at him.

Keiji didn’t respond. He stared at the device for a moment longer, brows faintly furrowed. A tool that required no needle change, that could immediately determine blood type with a single prick… How had Asunaro developed something so advanced, yet kept it hidden here? He let out a slow breath, then set the syringe back in its place. The drawer closed with a dull thunk as he returned to his task, more focused now, if only to keep his thoughts from spiraling further.

A few drawers later, after a long list of tools, gauze rolls, and antiseptic bottles, he reached the freezer. Thankfully, it wasn’t the industrial kind—just a small fridge near the exit of the room. He opened it carefully, counting the blood bags one by one. Everything matched perfectly with the inventory list Hinako had given him, as well as the amount listed in the other list… except for one… O-

There should have been another bag. It wasn’t just absent from the fridge—it wasn’t even written down. But Keiji knew it existed.

“Something’s missing here,” he announced, closing the fridge door partway. “a blood bag. The O neg one."

Hinako lowered the stack of papers that had been covering half her face, tilting her head slightly. “Ah… don’t worry about it. It’s just getting processed.”

“Processed?” Keiji repeated, straightening up. His hand lingered on the fridge door handle as he studied her.

“Yes… in a lab beyond this floor.” Hinako answered softly, her eyes dropping back to her list. “To make sure it’s safe. And to make sure it’s clean.”

Keiji’s gaze drifted toward the far wall, thoughtful. A lab beyond this floor. That confirmed it, then—something he’d already suspected but hadn’t been sure of until now. Still, hearing it from her… He was glad, and was also beyond thoughtful.

He nodded slowly, closing the fridge fully with a quiet click. “Got it.” He murmured.

“Also—”

A sudden rumble went across the floor, sending tremors across the room. The cabinet rattled violently, its contents clinking in disarray. Overhead, the lights flickered once, then twice, before plunging the infirmary into pitch darkness.

Keiji’s hand instinctively tightened on the fridge handle. Beside him, he heard Hinako scramble to her feet, the sharp scrape of her chair against the tiles echoing in the dark. A moment later, the door creaked open, flooding the room with the faint daylight that seeped through the hallway windows.

The entire hotel was dark. Silent, save for the soft hum that seemed to linger after the rumble.

Keiji’s palm was still pressed against the metal of the fridge—and he noticed it almost immediately. The cold was fading away. The surface felt slick beneath his fingers, damp with condensation that had begun to melt. In contrast, the air around him grew heavier, far warmer.

“What the…?” He muttered, raising his hand to inspect it in the dim light. Drops of water clung to his skin.

“This is bad!” Hinako’s voice broke through the dark, pitched high with sudden urgency. “The electricity’s out!”

She darted back into the room, rifling through drawers until a faint spark illuminated her face—she’d found a small lighter. Its flame quivered as she held it to her face, then hurried past him again, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

Keiji lingered for a moment, keeping the infirmary door propped open to let in what little light filtered from outside. His eyes slowly adjusted, tracing the faint outlines of the cabinets, the bed, the sterile counters. Whatever just happened… It wasn't minor.

From the corridor, he could hear Hinako again—her voice echoing down as she opened the hatch to the lower floor. “Is everything alright down there?”

No reply. Just the faint, hollow sound of her voice fading into the darkness of the floor.

“‘Think something happened to Gin and Kugie?” Keiji called out, his tone even.

“I don’t think anything happened to them, but… this is strange…” Hinako replied, glancing back at him through the flickering flame. “I’ll go check—”

A metallic clank cut her off, followed by a muffled shout from below.

“We’re alright!” came a familiar voice—Kugie’s. “Just some technical difficulties!”

“I think we broke somethin’, woof!” Gin added from deeper below.

Hinako exhaled in relief. “Y-Yes… I think the generator overclocked!” Kugie spoke again.

“It what!?” Hinako’s voice rose sharply, eyes wide with panic. “B-But that means—!”

“—The freezer doesn’t work.” Keiji finished for her. “If it doesn’t come back soon, it’ll all go bad, right?”

“Yes!” Hinako cried out, her shoulders slumping as she sank briefly to the floor, the lighter flickering unsteadily in her grasp. “I’ll give them a hand. Keiji, please—call Miss Megumi!”

Before he could answer, she’d already vanished down the hatch, the sound of her descent ending with a metallic thud as it shut behind her.

And then, there was silence.

The infirmary—and the entire floor—was drowned in darkness again.

Keiji let out a resigned sigh. He stood there for a moment longer, listening to the faint hum of silence before moving. His steps were slow but deliberate as he turned back to the cabinet, his hand steady as he pulled open the first drawer.

He took the odd syringe, then the list as well for good measure. Away from prying eyes, and away from anyone's gaze.