Kaia shattered the wall with a single, merciless kick. The crack of splintering wood echoed like a gunshot, and dust billowed around her feet.
[Mysterious Guy: Oh, showing off on a weak wall?]
"I didn't mean to show off," Kaia muttered, her voice low and distant. She stepped into the newly revealed room, eyes scanning the bleak surroundings. Choir risers stood against the far wall—wooden, broken, and long abandoned. Dust clung to their jagged edges like cobwebs. An old, cracked door loomed ahead, half-broken and hanging on its hinges.
"I swear... this room wasn't here last time," Kaia whispered, her unease deepening.
[Blonde Lady: This is a whole new space, hidden behind talismans. Mishi's Inn was just a disguise.]
"Why would they need a disguise—"
Kaia pushed the door open. It groaned in protest, the sound slicing through the silence like nails on glass. Her breath caught when she saw the corridor beyond. The walls were covered in children's drawings—bright, colorful, and utterly out of place in this decaying nightmare.
"What... is this?" Kaia asked softly, her fingers trailing along the rough surface as she moved forward.
The drawings told a story. Kids playing, singing on choir risers, crowded dorm rooms with rows of bunks. Smiling faces. But the further she walked, the more distorted they became—smiles turned strained, eyes too wide, hands reaching for something unseen. Handprints smeared the walls, some in paint... some not.
Her foot struck something.
Kaia looked down, and her stomach twisted. Deep, jagged scratches carved into the wooden floor—like someone had been dragged, their nails gouging the wood in desperation. The trail led back toward the choir room, and dark stains splattered the walls—faded, old blood.
Kaia swallowed hard. The air grew colder, heavier.
She moved forward, faster now. More pictures lined the walls, but one made her freeze. A circle of children danced around a woman—blonde, seated, clapping with an eerie cheer. Every child in the drawing had identical features: blonde hair and striking blue eyes.
[Blonde Lady: Kaia.]
Kaia's skin prickled at the urgency in the voice. She quickened her pace, stopping before another door. The air beyond it felt... wrong. Heavy. Sinister.
She turned the knob.
The door creaked open, and Kaia staggered back.
Bodies.
Dozens of them, hanging from the ceiling like grotesque marionettes. Ragged white clothes clung to their dead forms. Their backs—stripped of skin—revealed bone and sinew, glistening in the dim light. The smell of rot wrapped around Kaia like a shroud.
But it was their faces that broke her.
"No... no way..."
Kaia stumbled forward, her heart slamming against her ribs. She reached for one of the bodies, her fingers trembling as she turned it.
Her breath stopped.
"Yona...?"
The word barely escaped her lips.
She fell to her knees, eyes locked on the familiar face. The faces of the dead—every single one—were the same.
"No... no, this can't be..."
Desperation drove her. She moved from body to body, turning them one by one, her hands shaking more with each face revealed.
"This..."
"This..."
"Even this..."
And then she stopped.
She stood amid the horror, her face twisted into an unnatural, thin smile. A soft chuckle escaped her lips—then grew into wild, hysterical laughter. She clutched her head, the sound bouncing off the walls in jagged echoes.
Then, silence.
Her hand fell away, and her eyes hardened into a blood-chilling glare.
"What kind of sick game is this?" she whispered, her voice trembling with rage and fear.
[Blonde Lady: This is what was hidden... for so many years.]
"Why do they all look the same?!" Kaia's voice cracked, rising into a furious scream. "They were real people! The girls who went missing at Mishi's Inn—are these them? Are they all connected to this nightmare?!"
[Blonde Lady: Indeed. The girls you see now once had their own identities... and their own lives.]
Kaia's voice broke. "They... didn't deserve this." The words felt hollow, useless against the overwhelming horror. The weight of helplessness crushed her, and the sight of those lifeless bodies made her heart clench tighter with every breath.
But there was no time to grieve. She forced herself to move forward, her steps slow and heavy, until she spotted another door at the far end of the room.
Without hesitation, she pushed it open. The hinges whined, revealing a dim, cluttered office. Papers lay scattered across the room, the air thick with dust and something far more sinister.
Kaia stepped inside and, after a moment's hesitation, shut the door behind her. It felt wrong—so wrong—to leave those hanging bodies behind. Even without seeing them, their presence pressed against her back, an oppressive, suffocating weight.
Her eyes fell on the desk. Torn papers lay strewn across its surface—some crumpled children's drawings, others official-looking but ruined documents. Kaia's fingers tightened around a delicate, worn paper.
It was a child's letter—simple and innocent—wishing a happy Mother's Day. The words struck deeper than any gruesome sight could.
Her gaze drifted to the wall beside the desk, where a large board hung covered in newspaper clippings, catalogues, photographs, and scribbled notes pinned in chaotic order. Kaia pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. Whatever this was, it was important—clues she couldn't afford to miss.
Stepping closer, she scanned the headlines. Reports of missing girls. The girls who had vanished from Mishi's Inn. Her heart pounded as her eyes landed on a photo—a group of blonde, blue-eyed girls in identical ragged white clothes. They stood together, smiling, with the same blonde woman sitting at the center like a proud matriarch.
But it was the next picture that made her blood run cold.
The same woman—but this time, with two little boys. The way she smiled here was different—genuine, intimate, as if this was her real family. The boys stood on either side of her, and Kaia's breath caught when she recognized one of them.
That face—she had seen it before. From the balcony. During the puppet attack. And again, disguised as a woman.
As she turned to leave, something caught her eye. A broken drawer, half-hanging from its frame—and from its corner, a dark red liquid slowly dripped to the floor.
Kaia crouched down, her hand brushing the splintered wood. With a careful tug, the false panel slid away, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside lay a single, aged document.
Her fingers closed around it, and she slowly unfolded the delicate paper.
To my dear Varyon...
It was a letter. It stated
Kaia's eyes raced over the words—and the more she read, the colder her blood ran. The truth clawed at her throat.
"This... can't be..." she whispered, her voice trembling with horror.