The choking dust slowly dissipated.
But in its place, a damp, feverish heat began to spread—seeping into their skin.
Takakai opened his eyes.
Fire.
Flames licked at a nearby trash pile, spreading hungrily.
The torch "Kaguya" had been holding—now dropped—had ignited the debris. The blaze was already consuming the apartment complex, far beyond containment.
Old Guo's screams still echoed.
Though agonized, the man wasn't completely helpless—still thrashing against whatever wore Kaguya's skin.
"Invisible entities with only footsteps, killing silently… Phantoms that communicate telepathically, trapping you in deadly dialogue… Corpses hiding indoors, ambushing survivors who step out… And now, fully physical mimics that reveal their true forms when fatally wounded…"
Four distinct horrors, at minimum.
How many more are lurking?
If only this were a game—save scumming would've saved so much pain.
"Nn…"
A pained whimper came from the girl slumped atop him.
Already bracing for the worst, Takakai carefully propped Maki up amidst the garbage, his gaze dropping to her abdomen.
Dark red stained her uniform, seeping outward. Some had smeared onto his own clothes during their fall.
"Looks bad."
He exhaled sharply.
"Obviously… it's bad… No shit…"
�Maki trembled as she forced herself upright, each breath a visible effort.
"Quit the tsundere act. Overdoing it kills the charm."
Takakai ripped a strip from his T-shirt—avoiding the brain-matter stains—and began binding her wound.
Crude. Painful. But it stemmed the bleeding.
Maki clenched her teeth, refusing to cry out even as her knuckles whitened.
"Leave me… I'm dead weight now."
�Her voice was steady, resolute.
"Yeah, I know."
He kept working.
"What are you—?! Finding the clock is priority! Youdidn'tsave me last time—why start now?!"
�She thrashed weakly, frustration boiling over.
She remembered.
When the shadow dragged her into this nightmare, Takakai had grabbed the backpack—not her hand. A logical choice. One she'd have made herself.
So why this stubbornness?
�"Let me askyousomething."
Takakai tightened the makeshift bandage, ignoring her gasp of pain.
"We've known each other what—ten hours? Three, realistically. We're strangers forced into alliance. Yet you took a bullet for me. By your 'logic,' shouldn't you have fled instead?"
Maki fell silent.
"I'm… the Shijō heiress. Top-tier education, born to lead. I can't let my underlings die. Just… bad luck this time."
Her cheeks flushed even through the agony.
"And 'tsundere' sounds insulting…"
"Drop the act, princess. I'm no saint, but ditching someone who saved my life? Can't do it."
He flicked her forehead.
"Now shut up and ride piggyback. Watch our six while I scout ahead. Clock or exit—either works. And since I can't wind clocks anymore, Ineedyou alive. Even as a glorified keychain."
Maki scowled but complied, looping her arms around his neck as he hoisted her up.
Her thighs—soft, warm, silk-smooth against his palms—were distractingly pleasant.
(Briefly. This wasn't the time.)
"Hmph. As if I'd slack off. Don't underestimate me, Hiro-kun."
Despite her bravado, her grip was frail.
The bullet was still inside her.
"Just don't expect heroic last stands. If things go south, you'reimmediatelybait. That's the extent of my kindness."
He adjusted his hold, stepping into the warped architecture.
Floors? Levels? Meaningless now.
Only the clock mattered.
If we find it, everything resets.
Please let that be true.
CRUNCH
A footstep echoed too loudly.
Takakai spun—
Just as a scalding shockwave hit.
He shielded Maki, diving beneath a tilted bedframe.
BOOM!
Fire engulfed the hallway.
�Ceilings collapsed. Floors pancaked downward.
Old Guo's shredded backpack tumbled through the air, spilling its contents—
Homemade explosives, rendered inert by the heat.
And beneath the rubble, in the deepest pit of the ruin…
A door.
Faint red light bled from its edges.
On its rusted plaque:
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