Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Among Moonlit Guests 4
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Ibi let out a breath and flinched. She closed her eyes for a moment to sort through her thoughts. When she glanced back, the door she had just come through was closing on its own.
This room only had one door anyway. Ibi shifted her gaze elsewhere, steadying her nerves. She slipped her hand into her pocket. She could feel the shape of her phone inside.
She yanked it out in front of her face with a jolt. Even while fleeing, she had kept the call going without hanging up—but now, the screen showed the call had ended. The man's voice was gone.
"No, no. Please."
She frantically dialed the same number again. Her fingers slipped several times before it finally connected, only for the line to cut off immediately. It had been working perfectly just moments ago!
The man who had answered—some mysterious stranger whose identity she didn't know—had somehow seemed like he could offer advice on this nightmare.
Even if not, just being able to talk to another person in this hellish maze was an indescribable relief.
"Haha..."
A hollow laugh escaped her. How delightful. Truly delightful. Maybe this was the process of going mad. Who could say if even believing she'd been on the phone with someone was all a delusion from the start?
She might already be insane. Trapped here for about a week, her memories could be warping, and she must look a fright.
That was probably why. Without realizing it, Ibi staggered toward the mirror on the wall. She peered at her reflection.
Her face in the glass was as wretched as she'd feared. She could pass for someone who'd wandered a week or a month. Wait... no...
She hadn't noticed amid the exhaustion, but it wasn't just fatigue. There was a subtle change—around her eyes and mouth... she really looked a few years older.
"What the hell is this? What's with this mirror?"
The moment she said it, Ibi clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. She was too shocked to even scream.
The her in the mirror hadn't moved her lips.
Then the reflection took a step forward. But the real Ibi stood frozen, hand still clamped over her mouth. The only thing the two shared were their wide, terrified eyes.
The mirror Ibi strode right up to the glass, raised a hand, and slammed her palm against it like she was swatting a bug. Then her lips moved as if to speak.
What... what is she trying to say?
But Ibi couldn't make out the shape of her reflection's mouth. Fear overwhelmed any curiosity. She spun away and fled from the mirror.
"Save me, Mom..."
Ibi crouched there, curling into a ball with her face buried in her arms.
It had felt like a faint light at the end of a long tunnel, but up close, it turned out to be just a coin-sized hole.
How long did she stay like that? Five minutes? Ten? Time was a blur, but it felt longer. As her sense of it returned, Ibi realized something.
No winding sound. No gears turning. No moonlight.
She lifted her head cautiously. The creepy mirror and the "Can't Go" scrawl jumped into view, but she shoved them to the back of her mind.
This room differed from the others in more ways than its triangular shape. For one, most of the walls lacked gears.
Until now, there had always been the winding sound, then the gears turning, followed by music. The girl appeared only after all that finished.
Their connection was a mystery. But it was true that everything had repeated in that exact order so far.
Maybe no gears meant no music. And no pursuer. Which would make this room safe, ultimately.
Of course, no one could guarantee it. The calendar and mirror still unnerved her. She couldn't shake the fear that the door might burst open if she let her guard down.
But just considering the chance of safety brought a sliver of relief.
Ibi leashed her raging emotions like a rabid dog and calmly reviewed everything that had happened.
She started sitting, but soon flopped flat on the floor. It was more comfortable that way. The hard surface made her body ache, but a bed would have been heaven.
Even so, exhaustion weighed her down; sleep threatened to claim her any second. To fend it off, she spoke aloud.
"First. This place is an endless chain of rooms and corridors."
She had seen five rooms so far. Four were identical square ones; this was the fifth, the triangle.
Square rooms and corridor walls had gears, and each room had two newspaper clippings. Different dates, all about some poor girl. Ironic to think it now while being chased to death... but at least she had been pitiable before dying.
The floor had a red carpet. A number 4 marked on it—meaning unknown, but ominous as hell.
The triangle room had no gears or papers. Instead, a mirror and two calendars. None of it helped her regroup.
Having sorted that much in her head, Ibi moved on.
"Linger in a square room, and the 'Guest' comes. Escaping isn't hard, but it feels endless. No idea what happens if caught, but it won't be happy."
The horrific girl arrived with the music. First the winding sound, then gears turning. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata introduction filled the air.
As the music neared its end, all four doors thudded in unison. Which one would open was impossible to predict. Preparation and fleeing safely in advance? Not an option.
The man had said there was definitely a rule to which door opened. But she had no clue what it was...
Right, that man.
"Can't get through again. It worked fine earlier. Unless I was hallucinating the whole call."
What scared her was how plausible that was becoming. She shook her head to dismiss it. I'm not crazy. And I won't die. Never.
Back to the phone. A call that worked fine suddenly failing had to have a reason. This bizarre place was infuriatingly consistent despite everything.
So there must be a reason why it stopped working.
"...This room?"
Nearly dozing off, Ibi snapped awake and sat up without fully rising.
She had thought it a safe haven, but maybe that was the trap. The Guest didn't come here, true. But what if it also blocked outside contact?
Shuddering, she forced herself fully upright. Holing up here as "safe" meant no escape ever.
She needed to call the man again. No guarantee another room would reconnect the line, but...
She would find out by trying.
The triangle room had only one door. She opened the one she had entered through and stepped out.
She walked the corridor. Traversing it on foot without pursuit was a first. It felt much longer than when sprinting in panic.
She pulled out the phone and tried calling again. Still nothing. Disappointing, but not all hope lost. No connection in the triangle or corridor. One more spot to test.
She took a deep breath and opened the door at the corridor's end. To think I'd walk into the monster's jaws of my own accord. But if there's an exit in its belly...
Kiiiik.
With a groan-like creak, the door swung open. She stepped into the oppressively uniform square room.
As she strode confidently to the center on the carpet, her contacts were already open, outgoing call initiated. Clutching at her last hope, she pressed the speaker to her ear.
The ringtone connected.
"...It works."
The call went through.
"Hello? Yes?"
The man's voice was oily, but it brought tears of joy. Could falling in love feel more euphoric?
"I... I-it's me! M-me!"
"...And who might 'I' be?"
"Y-you know! From earlier! The call! A-about an hour ago?"
The man fell silent. Ibi sensed something off. What was wrong?
"Oh, right. The young lady. Long time no talk."
"...Long time?"
It didn't add up. Not even a few hours had passed.
But she had no time or luxury to quibble. The man seemed to agree.
"So, miss. How's it going in there? Learn anything new?"
"Wait, hold on. No time—I'll make it quick."
And with that, Ibi began relaying everything she had pieced together about the place, as concisely as possible.