An hour passed.
Four hours passed.
Kaguya Shinomiya still hadn't turned the clock's hands to initiate the rewind.
There was no way to know what was happening on her end.
The agonizing wait yielded no results.
The room remained unchanged. The silence persisted.
Night had fallen. Neither Takakai nor Maki dared to venture outside. After exchanging what little information they had, they sat against the wall—a meter apart—waiting for the elusive reset, or… for morning.
One minute. Two minutes…
The small desk lamp—the room's only light source—was turned off.
In the pitch-black silence, the two sat utterly still.
They had already searched the apartment thoroughly.
No corpses. No anomalies.
Just the rule sheet and supply box, from which they'd eaten compressed biscuits to stave off hunger.
The front door? Locked from the outside. No escape.
So they waited.
Darkness.
Silence.
Takakai's body was wired taut, every nerve on the verge of snapping.
Yet he didn't turn on the light.
Didn't speak.
Didn't close his eyes.
The outdated rule sheet had emphasized nighttime dangers.
After 9 PM, no lights. No sound. Absolute stillness. The apartment must appear abandoned.
Given that the anomalies had escalated from a stable state, Takakai was certain:
The "safe zones" listed on the sheet were now compromised.
But the danger zones?
Just as deadly. Possibly worse.
So they waited.
For Kaguya's reset.
Or… for dawn.
Will we even survive tonight?
Takakai's thoughts spiraled.
They had pieced together quite a bit:
From Maki's encounter with the blood-written rules, it seemed the anomalies in Shirakawa Apartments relied on "information exchange" as their primary vector.
This could be direct sensory interaction—like the three knocks that had nearly wiped them out—or secondary interactions, like text.
The latter was less immediately lethal, hence why Maki had survived reading the rules, though her actions had trapped them all in this nightmare.
But if textual interaction could have such effects…
What about Xusheng?
The man confirmed dead in the survivor's notes—the one who should have become a monster like Fridge Guy or Under-the-Bed Guy.
He had left countless rule sheets and supply boxes, even reshaped the apartment's layout.
Their group had interacted with his legacy repeatedly.
So why hadn't XuSheng come for them?
Was he not truly dead?
Did he retain his will, refusing to harm others?
Or had he set up safeguards to prevent his ghost from turning hostile?
The head-shaped clock was his design.
Turning its hands had granted Takakai the ability to see others' resets, altered his perception, even let him glimpse Xusheng's final message.
In this fully corrupted Shirakawa Apartments, could the man who had once united all survivors truly be gone without a trace?
Takakai's mind raced.
But soon, he let out a silent sigh and stopped himself.
None of this mattered if he died here.
Pathetic.
This helpless, scrambling survival—it was so uncool.
Why can't I be the dashing hero for once?
As his thoughts wandered, a faint sound reached his ears.
From Maki's direction.
What's she doing?
Instinctive wariness flared—but what could he do in this claustrophobic death trap if she'd turned into something monstrous?
So he stayed still.
Then—
Maki slid closer, sitting so near their shoulders and arms brushed.
A small finger touched the back of his hand.
Then began writing.
[In this darkness, sitting too far makes it hard to notice if something's wrong. You must be terrified. Don't worry, I'll protect you. As long as I'm here, nothing will happen.]
Even in Japanese, Takakai's language hack made it effortless to understand.
Ah.
Maki was scared of the oppressive silence, so she'd moved closer.
And since the rules forbade talking at night, she'd opted for tactile communication.
Knowing the original story's characters is such an advantage.
Someone else might've mistaken her pride for disdain.
Amused, Takakai seized her hand, pressing his index finger to her soft, warm skin.
Wow.
Her hands are so… small. And smooth.
He could feel her tremble slightly—his sudden movement had startled her.
…Is this the first time I've held a girl's hand?
Damn. Starting to understand Yoshikage Kira a little.
Suppressing a grin, Takakai began writing back.
[By horror movie logic, you'll soon realize I'm just a severed hand floating in midair. You've been talking to a detached limb this whole time.]
Maki's hand froze.
Then shook.
Minutes passed before he heard her slow, controlled exhale.
Her fingers dug into his hand, writing frantically.
[That's NOT funny! Work on your emotional intelligence, you idiot!!!]
The three exclamation marks were carved into his skin with vengeful force.
Takakai almost laughed aloud.
[Sorry. I was worried you might've turned into just a hand. I'm actually really scared right now.]
Maki's reply was immediate.
[Hmph. Of course you'd be afraid—you're just a commoner, after all.]
Even blind in the dark, Takakai could picture her haughty expression, chin lifted in stubborn pride.
Is it exhausting, keeping up this act even now?
But she wasn't done.
[But don't worry. I'll protect you. I am, after all, the genius of the Shijo family. I won't cower behind you in some silly horror game.]
[And… I can tell you're actually quite capable. You're slow normally, but in a crisis, you react faster than anyone. You might even be stronger than me and Kaguya Oba-sama. (Though you'd need to work out more—your physique is pathetic.)]
[So don't be scared. If even I'm not afraid, you have no excuse. But if you're really that terrified… I suppose I could allow a hug. Consider it a special privilege.]
A light pat on his hand.
Then—
Her small fingers laced through his, palm pressing against his knuckles.
Warm. Steady.
Takakai didn't move.
This is embarrassing.
A real-life anime girl was comforting him in the dark, and his heart was pounding.
I've analyzed 10TB of premium waifu material. I'm a certified connoisseur. So why am I this flustered by actual human contact?!
He sat there, paralyzed.
Honestly, even if Maki was a monster lulling him into false security, it'd be worth it.
The door was locked.
No escape.
Might as well enjoy the moment.
But his rambling thoughts were interrupted.
Tap. Tap.
Footsteps.
Right outside the door.
Then—more.
Multiple people.
Knock. Knock.
The same rhythm as the earlier horror.
And then—
A voice.
Calm. Familiar.
"Takakai-san. Shijo-san. Are you in there? We've come to rescue you."
Kaguya Shinomiya.