Beneath the warm sunlight, shrubs and grass swayed gently in the breeze.
Takakai moved swiftly along the garden path, flanked by Kumami, Miko, and the others.
If I didn't know this place's true nature, I might actually be fooled by its surface appearance.
Observing the meticulously maintained greenery, Takakai carefully avoided stepping on even a single blade of grass—strictly adhering to the rules outlined in the orderly regulations Miko had retrieved.
The reason was simple: the document explicitly stated "Orderlies must not damage greenery." This rule had already been tested moments ago when Kumami's controlled entity was torn to shreds for violating it. The consequences here were brutally straightforward—better to follow the rules meticulously.
Having memorized the entire document at a glance, Takakai reviewed its contents mentally:
[Hirohoto Mental Hospital Orderly Regulations]
All orderlies must complete training before assignment. Untrained personnel are prohibited from work areas.
Orderlies must strictly enforce patients' daily schedules. Any deviation constitutes negligence.
Work is confined to designated areas during shifts. Off-duty orderlies may only access staff areas or public zones outside the hospital.
Orderlies must interrogate any suspicious persons. All areas except outpatient building are restricted. Unauthorized individuals must be detained for management.
Orderlies must protect all hospital facilities, including landscaping. No destruction permitted.
Orderlies must prevent patient self-harm through unlimited protective measures.
Minimal interaction with untreated patients. Only rehabilitated patients may socialize normally.
Orderlies must not abandon posts. All staff mutually monitor compliance.
Violators will undergo retraining. The hospital never abandons its staff.
Compared to Alice's trap-filled game rules, Takakai found these straightforward regulations almost refreshing. At least their dangers were transparent.
So far, the hospital seemed to operate on a "no witness, no crime" principle—manageable if they remained undetected.
"That's the building ahead. No activity visible."
Kumami halted behind a tree, surveying their target structure.
"The pursuer's gone. Miko, you holding up?"
After confirming their rear was clear, Takakai turned to the girl beside him.
"I'm... fine..."
Miko strained to keep her voice steady.
In her vision, their party didn't consist of four members, but eight.
The extra four were grotesque, malformed entities—originally scattered throughout the hospital, now inexplicably trailing them. Their numbers kept growing.
But that wasn't the true horror.
Her peripheral vision caught the umbilical cords.
Are those... umbilical cords?
Thick, pulsating strands extended from each entity into the sky—visible only to her. Not just the hidden monsters either. Every orderly, every patient—all connected by writhing crimson cables that draped across buildings, slithered through grass, transforming the world into a hellscape.
She refused to look up.
Some primal instinct warned that seeing what anchored those cords would be irreversible.
I could see it.
See what even Crimson Moon players have never witnessed.
But if I do...
She'd never leave this place.
This wasn't part of Fujisaka Academy. Whatever loomed above enveloped the entire [School Horror Stories] scenario—something far more terrifying than anything encountered before.
Don't think about it. Don't visualize it.
Yet the prohibition only made her mind conjure worse imaginings.
She hadn't told Takakai.
Some intuition insisted that speaking of this—even through mental link—wouldn't help. It might trigger something catastrophic. Just making him aware of the connections could have irreversible consequences.
So she remained silent, pretending normality as they advanced.
Though "normal" was impossible when her eyes saw hundreds of cords sprouting from their destination—a building that should've been small and unassuming, now vomiting forth endless crimson tendrils skyward.
Why so many entities there?
As the group prepared to move from cover, a voice whispered behind her:
"Miko-chan."
A classmate's familiar greeting.
Every muscle locked in terror as a small, cold hand settled on her shoulder.