The Mayor of the Fourth Floor
In front of the house.
Steno raised a hand and sliced through the empty air, then opened her inventory and drew something out.
Clunk.
What materialized in midair and dropped with a heavy thud was a massive hunk of metal Minel never would have imagined seeing in the Backrooms.
An old iron automobile whose four wheels looked unnaturally large.
“……”
It was nothing like the cars of the era Minel had known.
In place of sleek curves sat roughly folded plates of metal. Faded black paint bloomed with blotches of red rust. The round headlights jutting from the front stared out like protruding eyeballs, casting an ominous gaze, while an old spring whirred faintly inside.
It looked like a modern-era relic that had stepped straight out of some old photograph studio.
Hina murmured, face pale.
“……Does this thing actually run?”
Chori’s eyes sparkled as she circled the car.
“It looks just like the ones I saw in comic books! Only way more beat-up! Hehehe! Are we really getting to ride in this?”
Isil scanned the automobile and added in a mechanical tone.
“Analysis complete. Object classified as ‘automobile.’ Exterior severely degraded, yet still functional. A box that carries people and moves. Highly inefficient.”
Everyone had something to say, yet Minel simply stared at the car in silence.
“……”
What filled his eyes was not mere curiosity but a strange, creeping unease.
How could an automobile exist in the Backrooms?
Could this, too, be a trap?
Steno watched him and let out a short laugh before speaking as if it were nothing.
“Get in. We’ll be there soon.”
Hina turned to Minel.
“It would be better if Chori and I took the back, right?”
“Yeah.”
Hina climbed into the rear seat with Chori.
While they settled, Minel opened his inventory out of Steno’s line of sight and withdrew the Backrooms Field Guide. He flipped quickly to the first page and scanned the entry.
Automobile. Vehicle and means of transportation. The Backrooms constantly try to steal a person’s footsteps, yet one can overcome this with a vehicle. Caution is advised on uneven ground and in confined spaces where its use is limited.
Nothing more than an ordinary description of a car. No additional hazards seemed attached to it.
Minel stored Isil in his inventory along with the Field Guide, then walked to the front passenger door. The moment he opened it the iron plate shrieked like something in pain. From inside rose the mingled reek of old oil and cracked leather. The seats had already split open, cottony stuffing peeking through the gaps. The windows rose and fell only by turning crude hand cranks, and the windshield was scored with overlapping wiper scars that looked as if they had been carved by a blade.
Once Steno confirmed Minel was inside, she rapped the worn steering wheel with her palm.
Riale, who had come out to see them off, offered a light wave from outside.
“Safe trip, big sister.”
“Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”
Steno turned the key. A sound like a chain snapping rang out, then—
Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa!
The old engine roared as if waking from a long sleep. The entire chassis shuddered and the metal keened; a thick stench of exhaust seeped through the gaps in the windows.
“We’re going.”
With that short declaration the automobile lurched forward.
Every time the iron wheels struck the grassland the whole space seemed to shake with them. The plates and wheels felt solidly joined; even a small stone made the car pitch and roll. Vibration sank into the bones, and the seats heaved like waves, shoving Minel left and right. It felt less like riding a vehicle and more like sitting on a torture chair.
In the rearview mirror Chori’s face was bright with excitement. She rolled the window down, stuck her head out into the wind, and laughed. Beside her Hina’s expression had tightened; she tried to stay calm, yet the corner of her eye kept twitching.
Minel watched the scenery stream past, gathered his thoughts, and finally spoke.
“How did you get this car?”
Steno drummed her fingers on the wheel for a moment, then tilted her head.
“All sorts of things exist in the Backrooms. It probably wasn’t here from the start. I figure people from countless worlds got sucked in and brought their things with them. Rare, of course. The Backrooms swallow everything—memories, people, objects.”
He had not asked for a sentimental monologue.
Minel closed his mouth, then asked more bluntly.
“Did you buy it? Or take it?”
A brief silence filled the cabin. Only the engine’s clatter and the scrape of wheels against the ground remained.
Steno slowly lifted her gaze to the window. Her eyes seemed to smile, yet a coldness he could not read flickered beneath.
“Does it matter? What matters is that it’s carrying us right now—and that a road that would take two hours on foot takes ten minutes this way.”
The answer sounded light, yet the concealment was obvious. On the Fourth Floor, people did not ask about one another’s pasts.
Minel did not press further. He simply turned his eyes to the trembling glass.
The car endured the shaking and cut across the grassland. Houses stood scattered across a wilderness that could hardly be called a road—red brick, slanted roofs, laundry lines strung on railings, rusted tin buckets in the yards. The next house looked identical. And the one after that.
“……”
The farther they drove, the more the landscape seemed endlessly copy-pasted. Once in a while a wall color or the number of windows appeared different, but closer inspection proved it only an illusion. The artificial pattern unique to the Backrooms. Something deliberately arranged.
The peace he had felt upon first arriving on the Fourth Floor had completely evaporated. In its place a tension larger than anything he had known on the First, Second, or even Third Floor filled the space. He was beginning to understand what Hina had meant when she said the Fourth Floor was more dangerous.
Before long Steno turned the wheel and slowed.
“We’re here.”
The house by the roadside looked no different from the others—same brick, same tiles, same front door. Yet one difference was enormous.
“The sun… is right above us?”
“……”
“……”
Just as Chori said, the sun hung directly over the mayor’s house. If the sun were not close, a mere ten-minute drive could never have changed its altitude so drastically.
Minel roughly calculated the height from the angle he had seen upon first arriving on the Fourth Floor and the angle now, after the short drive.
“Roughly four hundred meters…”
Steno stepped out first, approached the door, and knocked lightly.
Thud. Thud.
A moment later the door opened.
A middle-aged man who looked to be in his forties appeared—thick forearms, neatly combed hair, an ordinary face one might see anywhere, and simple clothes to match. He smiled brightly at Minel’s party.
“Welcome. You must be tired after the long road. I am Seus, mayor of this district.”
Even his voice was warm and gentle, like a kindly father.
Before Seus could say another word, Minel seized the initiative.
“I’m Minel. I want to find the entrance to the Fifth Floor.”
At the abrupt, casual speech Steno started to say something, but Seus turned to her with that same warm smile.
Steno sighed and shrugged.
“He doesn’t listen.”
“If I recall correctly, you two said the exact same thing once.”
“Not you, Mayor?”
“Hahaha. I said the same thing myself the first time I reached the top.”
Seus turned back to Minel. His eyes held the look of a sage who had already understood everything.
“Everyone who climbs to the top is desperate to find an exit. In the Backrooms, without a purpose one cannot bear the anxiety. Yet after living here long enough, one comes to realize there is no longer any need.”
“No need to return to reality, you mean?”
The blunt question made Seus’s gaze flicker for an instant. Then he nodded with a gentle expression.
“That’s right. Everything needed to live exists here. A place more comfortable and peaceful than reality itself.”
Steno and Riale had said the same. Yet somehow the words refused to take root.
“You won’t stop us from searching, will you?”
“I won’t hinder you—I’ll help. That’s why I asked you to come.”
Seus rose and walked to a large dining table where paper cards were stacked. He picked up three of them, returned, and sat again before Minel. Then he took a small magnifying glass and a tiny razor and began carefully carving.
“Do you know the single source of unease left on this perfect top floor?”
The answer was simple.
Things that did not belong here.
“People like me who just arrived?”
“Exactly. So I give these identity cards. Nothing special—merely a kind of guarantee that you have met the local mayor and received an explanation of the Fourth Floor’s circumstances.”
“What does that mean?”
Seus lifted his eyes from the glass and looked at Minel. He parted his lips and spoke quietly.
“It means you now understand how peaceful the Fourth Floor is. That you have become new people who no longer need to attack anyone.”
Just from hearing an explanation, one became a new person? Human beings were never that simple.
“And everyone believes that?”
“They do. When there is no longer any need to fight for daily survival, who would cause trouble?”
“……”
“Think about it. Evil ultimately arises from lack. On the top floor, where everything needed for survival is supplied, evil cannot exist even if it wishes to.”
“……”
“All people wish to be good. Even the most wicked man is only made so by his circumstances. Once every desire is satisfied and every lack resolved, no one remains who wishes to commit evil.”
“……”
“You must have seen countless evils on the lower floors. That is why mere words are hard to trust. But as you roam about searching for the entrance, you will gradually understand. A world where no one needs to be evil—heaven is right here.”
Seus blew gently on the paper cards and laid the three of them before Minel. Each bore the names Minel, Hina, and Chori, elegantly carved. For identity cards they were nothing more than names cut into paper.
“If anyone grows wary of you while you search for the Fifth Floor entrance, show them these. Demand theirs in return. Then no trouble will arise.”
Seus’s words brimmed with certainty.
Minel could not help asking.
“And if combat does break out?”
A faint killing intent threaded his voice. Yet Seus’s smile never wavered.
“You will not. There is no need. None of us has any need.”
“……”
“If there is anything you want in this house, take it. I simply receive my ration and that is enough.”
His smile resembled the face of a Buddha who had transcended all things. To Minel it felt only like a thin mask.
What, exactly, hid behind that mask?
Seus kept smiling as he faced Minel, raised his teacup, and slowly took a sip.