Yamamoto Hiroshi and Maeda Miwa in the kitchen still sat on the floor leaning against the refrigerator, opposite them the man nad Green who had looked brazen on the surface but was already terrified and ready to bolt once he learned there was sothing in the fridge.
Maki in the living room sorted through the letters and papers she had pulled out, trying to find anything of value. From these writings she could see they all belonged to a man nad Rin Fumio; he appeared to be an obscure magazine contributor who wrote useless bits of inspirational copy and essays to barely scrape by.
It seed that one night he fell asleep and woke up to find himself in Room 205. According to the notes on these papers, his life here was sustained by help from the survivors. Kyosei of 309 was the survivors' leader; from the first floor to the third floor, roughly twenty people in total lived in this apartnt building, and the longest-term resident appeared to be that man called Kyosei, who had already lived in the Shirakawa Apartnts for more than five years. That the place could turn from a desperate deathtrap into a ho where survivors made the best of things was thanks to Kyosei's efforts.
However, this man nad Rin Fumio, because of his lancholic nature and the fact that being trapped in the Shirakawa Apartnts prevented him from living normally—having to stay a night in the building every other day—led to his girlfriend breaking up with him. He grew increasingly resentful of the place and therefore was unwilling to record much about the apartnt.
"What the hell… we finally find so intel and this guy doesn't want to write because he's in a bad mood…"
Reading that, Maki was furious, grinding her teeth as if she wanted to rush out and beat that bespectacled corpse—though only in thought, of course; she naturally didn't dare act on it.
However, those fragnted records took a turn near the end.
[Sanchez]
That na appeared within the last few pages of the docunts Maki had collected.
There were only two entries about him. The first was a brief note:
[Today, a foreigner walked out of Room 109. He said his na was Sanchez. Originally, he was supposed to stay in 206, but the kitchen floor there collapsed, so he was moved to 109. He doesn't look ntally well. I don't think he'll like this place.]
That was all.
The second docunt ntioning Sanchez was found in the third-to-last entry Maki had uncovered.
[Sanchez opened the door of 304]
[He missed his daughter too much. But Shirakawa Apartnts was too far from his hotown. With the three-day limit, even if he tried desperately, he could only see his daughter for a very short ti. His family wasn't well-off—honestly, neither were we. Ever since we got trapped in this place, those who once had normal jobs and incos have been forced to make sacrifices under this cursed building's restrictions. Even if we wanted to give him money, we really didn't have any to spare.]
[Kyosei stopped Sanchez, not allowing him to enter 304]
[I heard that even if soone walks in there and sohow walks out again, they're no longer themselves]
[They'll shatter, vanish, and in the end beco ghosts unseen by anyone, forever wandering through the apartnt, trapped in endless pain until they forget everything]
[But Sanchez said he had to enter 304. He said the source of everything was there. That he could change it all. That he could save all of us]
[Could it really be that easy?]
Between strokes of ink, the entire record was filled with traces of smudging and overwriting.
Though the words seed indifferent, Maki could still sense, from those pen marks, the overwhelming turmoil the writer must have felt while recording them.
Next ca the second-to-last docunt—a page with only two sentences.
[Kyosei is dead]
[We can't leave the apartnt]
Looking at the chaotic handwriting, Maki couldn't imagine what Rin Fumio must have been thinking when he wrote those lines.
Maki lifted her head, glancing toward Takumi, who was standing guard at the door.
For a mont, she wanted to call him over—have him and Kaguya look at these records together, to analyze and think things through as a group.
But she quickly rembered that both Kaguya and Takumi were now standing vigil by the front entrance, guarding against the hallway beyond—the sa hallway where the corpse of the man who might have written these very records now lay, turned into sothing horrifying and unknown.
After a brief hesitation, Maki lowered her head again and unfolded the final docunt she had found—the one that had been scattered beneath the desk in Room 205, a sheet of letter paper stained with dark red sars.
[Don't go near the window! Don't go near the window! Don't look outside! Don't look! Don't look!!!]
The almost deranged scrawl sent a chill through Maki as she read it, an inexplicable wave of discomfort rising in her chest.
[Trust no one! Don't trust anyone! Don't enter anyone's room!]
[Everyone's gone mad! They're not the sa as before! All of them have gone mad! They've all gone mad!]
[I'm a good child. I'll be obedient. I'll stay ho and behave. I won't be punished. I'm a good child. I'm not crazy, I'm a good child, I'm not crazy, I'm a good child good child (here, the phrase "good child" filled nearly half the page, each word written with unnerving precision)]
[Don't trust anyone, don't trust anyone]
(This was scrawled at the very bottom of the letter, the handwriting utterly chaotic.)
[No one can be trusted. Once separated, it can't be undone—not even once.]
[Don't go to the third floor. The third floor isn't here. Don't go.]
[The first floor can't be exited. I can't get out. No one can get out. We've always lived here. Why do we have to leave?]
(The slanted handwriting stretched from the bottom of the page toward the middle, overlapping with the repeated lines of "good child." Maki had to strain herself to make out the words.)
[No one can be trusted.]
[Don't trust anyone.]
[Don't trust anyone.]
[Don't trust anyone.]
The writing once again began to repeat, growing ever more erratic, almost like mad calligraphy.
If Maki hadn't studied cursive script before—having a deep understanding of traditional Japanese calligraphy, to the point she could even recognize a physician's scrawled prescription at a glance—she probably wouldn't have been able to decipher what these words were at all.
The repetitions continued all the way to the bottom edge of the page.
Only one line was left unfinished; judging by the ink trailing off the paper's edge, it seed to continue onto the back side.
So Maki flipped the letter over.
[Don't trust anyone.]
The writing was still ssy, yet sohow more legible than before—as if the deranged writer had gradually cald down.
[Didn't I say, don't trust anyone?]
The next sentence wasn't an exact repetition, but it was strange—it read like a conversation with soone.
[I told you, don't trust anyone. No one is trustworthy! No one can be trusted!]
The pen strokes beca ssy again, as though the person could actually see soone yelling back at them.
[No one can be trusted. Not even .]
[Don't trust . My words can't be trusted. No one can be trusted.]
[Why do you trust ? Why do you trust ?]
It wasn't until she reached the final line—written in dark red, almost blood-like ink—that the girl suddenly recalled, in a daze, that when she had first picked up the letter, its back had clearly been blank.
[Rustle—]
The stained paper slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the floor, revealing a completely empty backside.
Her forehead slick with cold sweat, the girl glanced nervously around the room. Only after confirming nothing new had appeared did she let out a shaky breath, though her heart was pounding uncontrollably.
In this place, things that defied all common sense just kept happening, one after another.
Still, at least she had finally found sothing—clues that might hold so value.
Maki exhaled softly, steadied herself, and rose to her feet, intending to go tell Kaguya and Takumi what she had discovered.
[Boom!]
The next instant, a violent tremor shook the entire apartnt, sending Maki—who had just stood up—crashing to the floor along with Takumi by the door and Kaguya in the hallway.
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