Even now, as the three in the room barely reached a preliminary cooperation agreement, the hallway outside remained deathly silent.
That uncle Sun Dajun, the black guy, the blonde girl too scared to walk straight—their voices had vanished from the hallway after Kaguya closed the door, never to be heard again.
No one knew what was happening beyond that door now.
But for the moment, those inside didn't need to worry about it.
"Ultimately, rules-based horror is about summarizing survival methods while avoiding direct description of the terrifying entity. But I suspect the guidelines we have are outdated—they can't handle the current situation anymore."
Sitting around the coffee table, Takakai slowly analyzed while looking at the two identical A4 printouts from Rooms 204 and 208.
"Let's ignore the rule about daytime safety for now since we haven't confirmed the hallway situation. But one thing's already clear—these rules state everyone inexplicably brought to Shirakawa Apartments is over 20, yet none of us here meet that. This inconsistency suggests the apartment's anomalies underwent a major change, rendering the survivors' original rules inaccurate and unable to protect us fully."
"After all, from arrival until now, though we haven't explored much, neither the rooms nor hallway show any recent signs of habitation, right? Those who left these rules wouldn't just print sheets and do nothing else. If they were still around, we'd find traces. But we haven't. So we should verify which rules still work and which have become traps."
"Of course, this is just my personal opinion. What do you two think?"
Takakai sat obediently on his stool, expression as innocent as a model elementary school student.
Though acting humble, Takakai felt somewhat proud internally.
After all, I'm a transmigrator who's endured society's hardships. My insight and thinking must surpass these clueless high school girls who don't even know what rules-based horror is.
With my wisdom and their assistance, we'll overcome this!
"If you mean traces of past residents, I've already found some. But Takakai's right—they've been gone a long time."
Shijou Maki nodded seriously after listening, then walked to the room's bed, crouched down, and pulled out a small case from underneath.
"Ugh..."
The case had noticeable weight. Shijou Maki strained slightly but stubbornly carried it to the table, unzipped it, and revealed its contents.
Takakai and Shinomiya Kaguya saw an assortment of items inside:
Compressed biscuits, instant noodles, bottled water, toilet paper, alcohol, iodine, fever reducers...
Various supplies clearly prepared for room occupants.
"Production dates are around two years ago, the most recent being two years and three months. Most items are expired or nearing expiration. Everything's labeled in Chinese, suggesting we're in some Chinese town. Also, there's this."
Shijou Maki opened a side compartment and pulled out a white paper—similar to the rule sheets, with handwritten text:
[To Survivors]
[Whoever you are, waking here makes you one of us]
[As fellow cursed souls trapped in this horrific apartment, only cooperation ensures survival]
[This case contains food, water, disinfectants, gauze, basic meds and tools—replenished yearly, so don't worry about usability]
[But at night, minimize noise when using these. If you've read our room rules, you'll understand. If not, read them immediately—this isn't a retirement home. Danger lurks constantly, so knowing the rules is vital]
[Inventory:]
[1. Chocolate bars x3; 2. Canned biscuits x1; 3. Vitamins x1; 4. Instant noodles x3; 5. Water bottles (600ml) x5; 6. Lighter x1; 7. Toilet paper (180 sheets) x1; 8. Alcohol x1; 9. Iodine x1; 10. Bandages x1; 11. Basic meds x1; 12. Sanitary pads x1; 13. Tape x1; 14. Earplugs x1 pair; 15. DIY silent mask x1 (If you snore, wear this at night no matter how uncomfortable)]
[—Xusheng]
Unlike the 2000+ word rule sheets, this note was concise.
Just seeing this gave Takakai an indescribable feeling.
The rule sheets in every room, the emergency cabinets in the hallway, now these survivor supplies—it painted a picture of past residents uniting desperately to improve everyone's survival odds.
Yet now, they'd vanished, leaving only these traces behind.
What happened?
This note proved they'd maintained these supply caches annually. Meaning they'd thoroughly investigated the rules, reached relative normalcy, even had capacity to help others.
So what catastrophe erased them completely?
"If 'replenished yearly' wasn't empty words, then this survivor group dissolved at least a year ago," said Shinomiya Kaguya coldly, staring at the scattered supplies.
"Right. Earlier I asked others in the hallway—they didn't notice such cases in their rooms. I suspect every room has one. If we must stay here awhile, collecting these is essential. Even near-expired food beats starving when facing this creepy place. Right, oba-san?"
Shijou Maki sat on the sofa, swinging her legs slightly.
"This case can last us about a day. Stretching it would weaken us, making us slower against threats. So even conservatively, we can only hole up here until tomorrow before needing to move."
Shinomiya Kaguya frowned. She hated Shijou Maki's "oba-san" nickname. Being called elderly by a peer annoyed her immensely—enough to start a fight.
No, can't do that.
As a Shinomiya, private squabbles were one thing, but with an outsider present, decorum mattered.
Suppressing irritation, Shinomiya Kaguya exhaled softly and continued calmly:
"While we must act, our current intel is too scarce for rash moves. As Takakai said, these rules may be outdated. Even if partially valid, other 'protective' rules could now be lethal traps."
Her pale finger tapped the rule sheet as her tone grew graver.
"Starting with Rule 1: 8 AM to 5:50 PM. This is clearly problematic now. Despite daylight-like window light, unexplainable anomalies appeared in the hallway. Either the light itself is deceptive (and it's actually night), or this rule no longer works—daytime here is dangerous too."
Shijou Maki jumped in, having clearly pondered this already.
"I'm certain it's daytime now. So only the second option fits—the rule's become unreliable."
Shinomiya Kaguya responded decisively.
"Biological clock?" Shijou Maki blinked, then understood.
"Correct. Shinomiya household routines are strict. Past 11 PM, I instinctively grow drowsy. The wall clock showed ~1 earlier. If that were 1 AM, I'd feel it."
Shinomiya Kaguya nodded slightly, pride unconsciously seeping into her voice.
"Such pitifully rigid habits, oba-san. But have you considered time zones? If we're in another timezone, your biological clock wouldn't match. Worse, what if we're in another world?"
Shijou Maki crossed her arms, retorting sharply.
"I've considered that. But everything here—architecture, furniture, text—is distinctly Chinese. Unless the builders painstakingly recreated this abroad, time differences would be minor. China uses a single timezone, nearly identical to Japan's. As for other worlds—we can disregard that for now, since such thinking would trap us here forever. Our goal is escaping, not dead-end theories."
Shinomiya Kaguya rapid-fired her rebuttal. Shijou Maki pondered, then nodded in concession.
"I think—"
Takakai, who'd been struggling to interject during their rapid exchange, finally raised his hand.
"Next is Rule 2: After 9 PM, anomalies occur..."
But Shinomiya Kaguya had already moved on. Even as Shijou Maki paused to hear Takakai out, Kaguya's momentum carried the discussion forward.
"'Absolutely accurate clocks'—this can't be random. We must test altering clock times to observe effects."
"Per Rule 3, post-9 PM, we must stay in our awakening rooms in complete silence, ignoring 'children's knocks.' This 'children' likely symbolizes a threat. Something monitors the building, so we can't discuss certain things openly?"
"The circuits were dead when I woke up—long broken. So Rule 3's 'don't turn on lights' is meaningless. This might evidence the survivors' disappearance—they likely maintained working electricity. Wait, we can't just consider our room—the hallway lights work. If those also fall under 'must stay off after 9 PM'..."
"We should check the high cabinets for traces. These rules imply threats are child-sized, hence avoiding them via height. But since they're gone now, this method's reliability is questionable. Though the cabinets may hold investigative clues."
"Specifically mentioning Room 304 suggests major problems. Meanwhile, the rule-writer claims to live in 309—so is the entire 3rd floor safe except 304? Regardless, investigating the 3rd floor is essential. Earlier, I asked others—all were 2nd floor residents. No one claimed to be from 304 yet."
"Rules state entering/exiting the apartment isn't restricted—if using the main entrance. Yet our mission is escaping within 7 days. If it were that easy, this task wouldn't exist. The 1st floor is likely extremely dangerous—we must proceed cautiously."
"Regardless, the hallway's prolonged silence is troubling. Even if oba-san heard footsteps leave, is outside truly safe? Just deciding whether to exit for exploration is problematic enough."
...
Takakai sat motionless.
Silent amid the two girls' rapid-fire analysis.
He'd tried speaking several times but never found an opening.
Every time he thought of something, Kaguya or Maki would voice it first, then escalate the discussion beyond his ability to contribute. Soon, he could only listen intently, abandoning attempts to participate.
The difference between people really is vast...
In this trio, Takakai felt like two elite players had teamed up with deadweight. And obviously, he was the deadweight.
"Ultimately, the key question is whether to exit and investigate. Oba-san favors probing, but I say we observe longer—at least see if the other hiders make moves. We shouldn't be the first to act. Speaking of—Takakai, any thoughts?"
As discussions neared conclusion, Shijou Maki suddenly turned to the silent Takakai.
"I'll handle the cheering."
Takakai raised his hand expressionlessly.
"Huh?"
Shijou Maki frowned, not understanding this Chinese internet slang despite her Mandarin comprehension.
"I mean, 'Pros please carry me, I'm just a noob, uwu.'"
Takakai continued deadpan.
"What kind of bizarre forced moe is this?! I'm seriously asking your opinion!"
Still not getting the references, Shijou Maki stomped her foot angrily, her sharp canine teeth showing.