"So, in the previous attempt, we worked together but ended up wiped out?"
Kaguya tapped her forehead lightly before turning her sharp gaze toward Takakai, who stood by the wall of Room 206's living area.
"Sounds like something straight out of a fantasy novel. Hard to believe if we hadn't just lived through it."
Maki sighed, chewing on a chocolate bar she'd scavenged from the supply box. The cheap taste made her frown, but she forced it down anyway.
In the corner, Sun Dajun sat with his head in his hands, muttering to himself—his worldview thoroughly shattered. Meanwhile, Green stood guard by the door, keeping a stern eye on the trembling Maeda Miwa, who cowered against the wall.
The team from the previous loop's second attempt had reassembled.
But this time, Sun Dajun wasn't dead weight—he was part of the team. Green had joined again, though his handling of Maeda Miwa was less brutal this time. They'd lured the corpse from her Room 205 into 210, waited for the chaos to settle, then regrouped in 206—doors locked, defenses set.
Takakai had laid out almost everything from the last run:
The knocking entity.
The skull-clock.
The black hands that snatched people.
The distorted third floor.
And Old Guo's team-wiping stunt.
The only thing he kept to himself?
His 11 remaining rewinds.
Planning the Next Move
"If interacting with information triggers anomalies, then gathering intel might be impossible," Kaguya mused, already shifting into analysis mode.
"No. Last time, Maki saw something she shouldn't have because she read everything at once."
Takakai shook his head.
"From now on, we split the reading. One person reads the first half, another the second—then we compare notes. If it's still unclear, a third or fourth person checks. That's safer."
"So next is 206's kitchen?" Maki glanced at the half-burned wardrobe where a charred, mangled corpse lay. "But if the room's corpse activates when the 'owner' leaves… Sun Dajun can't come with us. And without him, that thing might not stay docile."
The plan solidified:
Takakai, Kaguya, and Maki would investigate the kitchen for a path to the first floor.
Green and Sun Dajun would guard Room 206, monitor the wall clock, and keep Maeda Miwa quiet.
If time skewed abnormally, they'd alert the others.
"Don't worry. I won't let this idiot scream again," Green assured, shooting a glare at Maeda Miwa—now muffled by a soundproof mask that reduced even snores to near-silence.
Before leaving, Sun Dajun looked up, hollow-eyed.
"Is… all this real?"
Takakai didn't sugarcoat it.
"You think moping will make it fake?"
Then he stepped into the kitchen.
The kitchen was a grimy match for 204 and 208—dirty dishes piled in the sink, a boarded-up window, and a musty stench clinging to the air.
The only difference?
No fridge.
Just empty cardboard boxes on the floor.
"Fruit company packaging," Takakai noted, moving them aside to reveal a collapsed section of flooring.
A damp, icy draft wafted up from the darkness below.
He jumped in without hesitation.
Splash.
The fall was longer than expected.
Cold water submerged his calves as he landed, the chill seeping through his pants.
The entire floor was flooded.
"You okay down there?" Maki's voice echoed from above.
Kaguya hovered beside her, earplugs in, hand on the clock—ready to rewind at a moment's notice.
"No issues. Just water. One of you stay here as lookout. I'll check the living room and hallway."
Takakai waded toward the kitchen door.
The living room was darker, lit only by faint light from the hole above.
A makeshift altar stood in one corner.
No windows.
Furniture rotted, covered in moss.
Maki joined him, shivering as the water soaked her legs.
"It's like a flood wrecked this place."
"Seems so. I'll scout ahead. If I'm not back in five minutes, have Kaguya turn the clock."
Maki opened her mouth—then closed it.
She wanted to ask about the trust in his eyes when they'd first met this loop.
Why he believed in her so fiercely when she couldn't remember him at all.
But now wasn't the time.
Takakai pushed open the living room door.
The hallway mirrored the second floor's layout—but with no wall clock.
Instead, a small table held a yellowed, waterlogged newspaper.
"Found a newspaper. Can't read it yet," he whispered.
The corridor beyond was pitch-black.
No light. No sound.
Just the squelch of his steps in the water.
Then—
A figure sat on the living room couch, head bowed.
Takakai whipped around.
Nothing.
Only the rotting sofa.
Splash.
Something rippled behind him.
A shape rising from the water.
He turned again.
Gone.
"Something wrong?" Maki tensed.
"Nothing… seen. Just a bad feeling. Maybe we've got shy neighbors."
The joke fell flat as he returned, handing her the crumbling newspaper.
The headline read:
[XX Major Flooding: Evacuation Notice for Residents of Outdated Suburban Apartments]