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V8 Story III – Part 02

Two figures, one clad in white and the other in black, peered into the room. Though they contrasted sharply, the resemblance between the two was striking as they gazed upon the lifeless bodies.

A faint smile played on Mayuzumi’s lips, while Maihime covered her mouth.

“He looks dead. Remarkably dead,” Maihime said, her voice as sweet as honey. Putting on an inappropriate smile, she turned to me, the bottom of her dress flaring. “I’m impressed,” she added with delight. “Revenge involves tearing yourself down. Not even firm resolve can make the task easier. But he managed to kill them with such finesse. This wasn’t what I expected.”

She gestured toward the corpses with her arm. Her words got on my nerves.

Taking revenge was no easy matter, but it wasn’t something commendable either.

“Maihime-san—”

“I’m quite surprised, yes.” Her voice dropped low. “And now I also understand. He’s serious.” Her features were locked in serious contemplation.

Before I could ask her what was wrong, she smiled brightly.

“What are these chains for, I wonder? I’m so curious.”

“I have no idea either… What exactly happened here?”

The two doors led to the same room. Although it was hard to see in the darkness, the room seemed to be a combination of a study and a parlor, divided in half at the center. The old man was suspended in the boundary between the two spaces. I frowned, wondering what had transpired here.

Mayuzumi let out a sigh. “I see. It looks like he failed,” she said, munching on a piece of chocolate.

I shifted my gaze to her. “Failed?”

“Yes, he failed. Remember what I told you about him sorting through espers and selecting only a few? Majority of his goods are mere toys. He rejects dangerous abilities. But stressful conditions can cause an ability to go haywire. He probably stepped on a minefield.”

An ordinary person couldn’t have done all this. But espers transcend human limitations. Mayuzumi was saying that a child the old man had bought was responsible for this mess.

My eyes widened. “Wait, so you’re saying a child he wanted to sell ended up killing him?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Odagiri-kun. What killed him was the wound on his head. If I were to use chains as a weapon, I would have either strangled him or stabbed him in the chest. But there’s no other fatal external injury. It’s safe to assume that Yusuke-kun was involved. But there must have been another element at play.”

As my hopes shattered, I realized that this missing element was likely the person I sought. Where had the child, the architect of this room, disappeared to?

“Yusuke probably wanted me to help that child,” I said. “We have to find them.”

“I’m not sure if that’s the right course of action, but sure.”

Mayuzumi moved away, her extravagant frills flaring. Maihime dragged Kugutsu inside, and he grimaced at the sight of the corpse. As Mayuzumi passed by me, she paused, her gaze falling upon the entrance, an unpleasant smile on her lips.

“You might not be able to help them, but you’ll still have to put in the effort anyway.”

Metallic sounds came from the entrance. I pushed her aside and rushed toward the exit. Mayuzumi raised her arm, pointing with her pale fingertip at the entrance.

“What is this?”

“I don’t know what the child is thinking, but those seeking help should never block the escape route of the person they need the help from. It’s an act that even losing a wrist wouldn’t justify. They ought to learn that.”

The double doors were sealed shut, the two handles linked by several bands formed of iron and fabric, interlaced like a person’s spine.

My breath seized in my throat. The bands were a collection of collars and handcuffs.

The doors were securely shut with tools designed to restrain living beings.

“Now then, shall we search for that child? I’m not sure if there are other children here, but the doors were open until we arrived. Let’s assume they’ve already made their escape. But given that the doors were sealed shut, the child responsible should be inside. Whether they want help or have another purpose, I can’t say for certain.” Mayuzumi’s words carried an ominous weight.

Kugutsu frantically tugged at the door’s handles. Maihime, sitting on the stairs, was calm and composed.

“I have no interest in Mr. Yusuke’s wish,” she said drowsily. “Nor do I care about the child. I’m a rather heartless person. I just want a comfortable chair.”

“In that case, go look for a place to rest,” Mayuzumi said. “I’ll join you in that endeavor.”

Maihime’s earlier curiosity had waned. The two of them decided on their own courses of action. Kugutsu stopped whatever he was doing and lowered his head in my direction. He would likely follow Maihime. I would be left alone, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Yusuke asked me for help in the first place. It would be best to search for the child on my own.

“I’m off to look for them, Mayu-san. If you happen to find the child while searching for a chair, please let me know.”

I proceeded down the right-hand passage and opened a simple door.

Clank.

The lights in the corridor were off. I switched them on and closed the door behind me. Silence descended.

Doors lined both sides of the wooden corridor. As expected, there was no sign of anyone. I opened the door on the right.

Clank.

It led to a bedroom. Four bunk beds neatly occupied the small and long room. The size indicated they were meant for children. However, the room was empty. Just in case, I returned to the corridor and checked the opposite room.

Inside was another bedroom. The layout was similar, though the bed sheets displayed different colors—one red and the other blue. Perhaps the rooms were divided by gender. I returned to the boys’ room.

Stuffed animals lay scattered on the blue sheets, and the walls and floor were filled with doodles scrawled in crayons. There was a black dog playfully sticking out its tongue, and a sea of red flowers covered the floor.

There were rectangular windows on both ends of the room. A modest, yet cozy setup for a children’s room. As I looked around, my gaze settled on the white paint smeared near the head of the first bed.

I saw black letters right at the edge of the paint—something had been painted over. The paint, smudged randomly to disguise what was underneath, abruptly stopped just above the bed. Intrigued, I approached the bed, grabbed the mattress, and shifted it.

Help, help, help, help, help, help.

Words covered the surface like a swarm of ants.

I felt a sharp pang in my chest. I returned the mattress to its original position and surveyed the room once more.

Suddenly, I noticed something abnormal in the room. As if deciphering an optical illusion, I gained a new perspective. My eyes returned to the drawing of the dog. I now noticed that what protruded from the black dog’s mouth was not its tongue.

It was a human arm—the black dog was devouring a human.

The doodle was drawn in a spot where you could see the outside. Driven by a sense of foreboding, I rushed over to the window and pressed myself against the cold glass. I could see something near the dark trees.

A doghouse. And it was currently empty.

My stomach churned, and I moved away from the window. Shaking my head, I stared hard at the scribbles on the floor.

White arms were growing amidst the red flowers. On the other side of the scribbles was a window.

I hurried back to the window, pressing my face against the glass and peering into the darkness.

The ground bore signs of digging, and all around was a rich profusion of flowers in full bloom. Red flowers stirred, thick and darkish petals blending into the night.

I pounded on the glass and retreated from the window. I darted out of the room once more, barging into the opposite one. There were no windows or scribblings here. Other differences stood out besides the bed sheets. This room had no stuffed animals or crayons. I questioned my assumptions.

Were the rooms truly assigned based on genders?

These children were commodities, and it was difficult to fathom that the trafficker would dispatch them easily.

If they were killed, there had to be a purpose behind it. The window was likely intended as a warning—that unmanageable children or those who dared to escape would either be buried or eaten.

And the room with blue sheets had a window, while the one with red sheets didn’t.

The differences in the rooms likely reflected the occupants’ mental state. For unresponsive children, a warning was unnecessary. I recalled Hirugao’s smile as she held the skull. The adorable expression and the eerie room intertwined in my mind. Though I had grown accustomed to cruel matters, the familiar smile stabbed my heart powerfully.