fter leaving Room 205, Takakai seized the opportunity to inform Kaguya and Maki about the second corpse hidden beneath the bed.
So when the sound of the wooden stick falling and the door creaking open echoed through the hallway, Shinomiya Kaguya knew with absolute certainty—what stood outside now was likely a grotesque male corpse, its body twisted and distorted as if torn apart and haphazardly reassembled.
Back in Room 205, had that thing been lurking under the bed the entire time, silently watching them search the room?
Now, the critical question was—which way would it go?
Before leaving, Takakai had deliberately mentioned Room 210 as a misdirection. But this tactic only worked under two assumptions:
The entity possessed some degree of cognitive ability.
It lacked any supernatural tracking methods.
Thud—
A heavy footstep reverberated down the hallway.
The direction it was heading… was toward 210.
Kaguya exhaled silently in relief.
For someone like Shinomiya Kaguya, who relied on logic and reason, the most terrifying thing was the unpredictable—entities that defied all laws and patterns. And until now, every horror she had faced in this apartment had been exactly that.
But this time, an inexplicable corpse had fallen for Takakai's deception, choosing 210 as its destination.
This meant that not all threats in Shirakawa Apartments were beyond reason. At the very least, some could be tricked, outmaneuvered—and if that was true, then she could exploit this weakness to devise more strategies.
Creak—
The sound of Room 210's door swinging open reached her ears.
The thing from 205 had entered.
Kaguya turned her head slightly, glancing at Takakai, who stood guard at the intersection between the hallway and the living room.
She raised one finger, then three, then two, alternating in a silent signal. Takakai mirrored her movements, responding with his own gestures.
This was their prearranged method of communication—a way to check in without words. Every few minutes, Kaguya would turn and exchange these signals with Takakai. There was no guarantee it would work, but if she were attacked by something with mental-corruption properties, Takakai would (hopefully) notice the anomaly. In that case, he'd don earplugs, rush to her side, and drag her back into the living room, sealing the door behind them to isolate the threat. If that failed, they'd resort to the wall clock's time regression.
With so little intel to work with, this was the best contingency plan the three of them could improvise.
In the kitchen, Sun Dajun and Maeda Miwa sat slumped against the fridge, while across from them, Green—who had acted tough earlier—now looked ready to bolt after learning what lurked inside the refrigerator.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Maki sorted through the scattered letters and manuscripts, searching for useful clues.
From the writings, she gathered that these belonged to a man named [Lin Wenfu], an obscure magazine contributor who eked out a living by writing vapid self-help articles and slice-of-life vignettes.
According to the notes, he had gone to bed one night only to wake up in Room 205.
The papers described how survivors in the apartment helped him adjust. Among them, Xusheng from Room 309 was their leader. From the first to the third floor, roughly 20 people lived in Shirakawa Apartments, with Xusheng being the longest resident—over five years. It was his efforts that transformed this hellhole into a place where survivors could scrape together some semblance of normalcy.
But Lin Wenfu, already prone to melancholy, grew increasingly resentful after being trapped here. The apartment's curse forced him to stay overnight every few days, straining his relationship with his girlfriend until it shattered. His bitterness made him reluctant to document much about the place.
"Seriously?! We finally find some intel, and this guy just 'wasn't in the mood' to write?!"
Maki gritted her teeth, fantasizing about storming out and beating the shit out of the glasses-wearing corpse. (Not really, of course. She wasn't that reckless.)
However, the tone of the records shifted dramatically in the final pages.
[Sanchez]
This name appeared in the last few documents.
The first mention was brief:
"Today, a foreigner came out of Room 109. He said his name was Sanchez. He was supposed to be in 206, but the kitchen floor collapsed, so they moved him to 109. He seemed… mentally unwell. I doubt he'll last long here."
The second entry was more ominous:
"Sanchez opened the door to 304."
"He missed his daughter too much. But Shirakawa Apartments were too far from his hometown—even with the three-day limit, he could barely spend any time with her. His family was poor. Hell, so are we. Ever since we got trapped here, those of us with jobs had to make sacrifices. Not like we could help him financially anyway."
"Xusheng stopped Sanchez before he could enter 304."
"I've heard that those who go inside… don't come out the same."
"They break. They vanish. They become ghosts no one can see, doomed to wander the apartment in endless suffering until they forget everything."
"But Sanchez insisted. He said the root of it all was inside. That he could change everything. Save us all."
"Since when do miracles come that easy?"
The page was riddled with ink smears, the handwriting growing erratic. Despite the detached tone, Maki could sense the writer's turmoil.
Then came the second-to-last document—just two lines:
"Xusheng is dead."
"We can't leave the apartment anymore."
The jagged script made Maki's chest tighten. She couldn't imagine what state Lin Wenfu had been in when he wrote this.
She looked up, about to call Takakai over so they could review the notes together—but stopped herself.
Right now, Takakai and Kaguya were on high alert, guarding against the very corpse that might have written these words.
After a pause, Maki turned to the final document—a bloodstained letter she'd found beneath Room 205's desk.
"DON'T GO NEAR THE WINDOWS. DON'T LOOK OUTSIDE. DON'T LOOK. DON'T LOOK!!!"
The deranged scribbles sent a chill down Maki's spine.
"TRUST NO ONE! DON'T ENTER ANYONE'S ROOM!"
"EVERYONE'S GONE MAD! THEY'RE NOT THE SAME! THEY'RE ALL INSANE!"
"I'M A GOOD CHILD. I'LL BEHAVE. I'LL STAY HOME. I WON'T BE PUNISHED. I'M A GOOD CHILD. I'M NOT CRAZY I'M A GOOD CHILD I'M NOT I'M NOT I'M NOT CRAZY I'M NOT CRAZY I'M A GOOD CHILD GOOD CHILD—"
(The phrase "good child" repeated obsessively, each character penned with unnatural precision, filling nearly half the page.)
"DON'T TRUST ANYONE. NOT EVEN ONCE. NOT EVEN A SINGLE TIME."
"DON'T GO TO THE 3RD FLOOR. THE 3RD FLOOR ISN'T HERE. DON'T GO."
"THE 1ST FLOOR IS LOCKED. I CAN'T LEAVE. NONE OF US CAN. WE LIVE HERE NOW. WHY WOULD WE WANT TO LEAVE?"
(The writing slanted diagonally, overlapping the earlier "good child" lines, forcing Maki to squint to decipher it.)
"DON'T TRUST ANYONE."
"DON'T TRUST ANYONE."
"DON'T TRUST ANYONE."
The words dissolved into frantic scribbles, barely legible. If not for Maki's calligraphy training (and her ability to read even the most chaotic doctor's prescriptions), she wouldn't have understood a thing.
The repetitions ran to the bottom edge—but one sentence trailed off, the ink bleeding onto the back.
Maki flipped the page.
"DON'T TRUST ANYONE."
The handwriting was still messy, but… clearer. Almost like the writer had calmed down.
"DIDN'T I TELL YOU NOT TO TRUST ANYONE?"
Wait. This didn't read like a note—it read like a conversation.
"I SAID DON'T TRUST ANYONE! NO ONE IS SAFE! NO ONE!!"
The letters grew jagged again, as if the writer were screaming at someone.
"TRUST NO ONE. NOT EVEN ME."
"DON'T BELIEVE ME. DON'T BELIEVE ANYTHING I SAY."
"WHY WOULD YOU TRUST ME? WHY WOULD YOU TRUST ME?!"
And then—
A blood-red line of text.
Maki's breath hitched. A realization struck her: when she first picked up this letter, the back had been blank.
The words weren't there before.
"Wha—?!"
The paper slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the ground—now blank again.
Cold sweat dripped down Maki's forehead as she whipped her head around, scanning the room for any changes. Only after confirming nothing had moved did she release a shaky breath, though her heart still pounded wildly.
In this place, the impossible kept happening.
Still… at least they'd finally found some useful clues.
With a sigh, Maki steadied herself and stood to brief Takakai and Kaguya.
BOOM—!!!
A violent tremor rocked the entire apartment.
The floor lurked. Maki, Takakai, and Kaguya all crashed to the ground as the world shook around them