Entering the Ruins
Creak— Creak—
The rotting doorframe let out a piercing noise as it was forced open.
Dim light spilled into the dust-filled hallway, illuminating the peeling paint and rusted doorplates—their numbers long faded beyond recognition.
A pink-haired head cautiously peeked inside, scanning left and right with a telescope before giving a thumbs-up and darting off to scout ahead.
Takakai, Miko, and Bocchi followed, stepping into the derelict building.
Takakai dismantled the door on the way in, carrying it with him as a makeshift shield.
"This place… looks like an abandoned dormitory?"
Takakai compared the overgrown corridors and collapsed walls to the mission briefings.
This matched the ruined dorm from the records—but something was off.
In the original reports:
The main school building was intact.
The dormitory was abandoned.
Now?
The main building was pristine (but shouldn't be).
The dormitory was still abandoned (unchanged).
Did time rewind?
Or is this place stitched together from different eras?
That damn Clown KP really went all out.
The air was strangely peaceful.
No lurking horrors.
No oppressive dread.
Just silence—like walking through a cemetery of forgotten things.
Miko shivered. "It doesn't even feel like a dungeon anymore."
Takakai nodded but stayed wary.
Too many "safe zones" turned out to be traps.
Bocchi, meanwhile, felt nothing unusual—just the usual tension of being near people.
They moved carefully:
First floor: Barren. Doors sealed shut.
Second floor: Collapsed ceilings, sunlight streaming through cracks. Graffiti-covered walls—cartoons, slogans, faded dreams.
Third floor: Half-buried under rubble. They leaped over gaps, navigating the wreckage.
Still, no threats.
Too easy.
Are all the monsters waiting on the fourth floor?
At last, they reached the fourth floor—and the door marked:
[生活社 - Life Club]
Takakai hesitated, then turned the knob.
Light flooded his vision.
A rooftop.
Sunshine.
Two figures.
One sat at the edge, legs dangling.
The other approached cautiously.
[What are you doing here?]
[Nothing. Just thinking.]
A breeze. Birds overhead.
The figure at the edge looked down—ten meters to the ground.
[If I jumped… I wouldn't have to go to school tomorrow, right?]
[Probably. But you won't.]
[Why not?]
[You hate getting dirty. Jumping means mud, bugs, blood, tears—all things you can't stand.]
A pause.
[...Even if I did, no one would care.]
[I would. I still want to show you my secret base.]
The rooftop figure hugged her knees.
[Why bother with a problem student like me?]
The other stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder.
[Eriko, you're not a problem. I believe in you.]
[Give me time. I'll make sure no one hurts you again.]
[Come on. Let's go somewhere safe.]
The Present
The vision faded.
Takakai blinked—and saw the Life Club's room.
A lived-in space:
Potted plants by the window, water droplets fresh on the leaves.
A blackboard with math solutions and whimsical notes:
"End the day with a smile!"
"Eat ice cream when sad tomorrow!"
Scattered textbooks, folded paper cranes, dried flowers as bookmarks.
Cushions in the corner, worn from use.
Miko exhaled. "It feels… safe here."
Bocchi noticed a note on the door:
[Congrats! You found the Life Club's secret base!]
[Rest here—no one else can find it!]
A cheerful doodle of a face, a bird, and a turtle accompanied the message.
Takakai approached the windowsill.
A soggy paper crane lay there, its ink bled into nothing.
He picked it up—and heard an echo:
[I'll always believe in you, Eriko.]
[So promise me: Eat well. Sleep well. Keep playing guitar. Don't give up.]
[When I come back, let's get ice cream, okay?]