The First Plan

There were moments when Han Yuna would freeze, staring blankly into empty air as if something were there. Every time it happened, I nearly jumped out of my skin, half-convinced she was actually looking at a ghost.

Honestly, I wanted to ask her to stop doing that — but saying it out loud felt somehow wrong.

Not that the current situation left much room to dwell on it anyway.

I hadn't gone to check for myself whether the sounds outside the door were real, the way Han Yuna had described them. Forget being scared — if I actually heard the slap of wet bare feet out there, I had zero confidence I could keep from screaming.

Better to know my place and stay well clear than pull a stunt like that and become a liability.

Still, assuming she was right about something coming by at regular intervals, it seemed she planned to use those gaps to get us out of this room.

Standing by the door, her profile looked remarkably calm even in the dark. Honestly, shouldn't our genders be reversed here? I was just too much of a coward, and she was clearly far braver than most people. Under the circumstances, that was lucky for me.

Han Yuna stayed pressed near the door while I, eyes adjusted enough to the dark, moved around the room looking for anything useful. There was almost nothing of note. Aside from a row of old cabinets along the wall, there was only the damp floor.

…Which left opening those cabinets one by one and checking inside.

Come to think of it, this was a horror game. A novel… the original work, she'd called it? I still didn't have the details straight, but either way, they wouldn't just drop someone into a completely empty starting area.

Nothing useful in sight, and outside the door, unidentifiable footsteps kept coming. There had to be something in the cabinets. That was the obvious conclusion, wasn't it?

I tapped the floor a couple of times, and Han Yuna — still near the door — turned her head. Whether she'd been staring into empty space again or calculating the intervals between the footsteps outside, I couldn't tell. Either way, she came over.

I explained what I was thinking and asked if we should try opening the cabinets.

"Hmm…"

She didn't answer right away, falling into thought for a moment. Truth be told, I didn't have the courage to open them myself either. The reason I'd phrased it like I was asking her permission was partly a thin hope that she might check them for me.

But watching her seriously consider it made me wonder if she'd seen right through me — and whether I was being too selfish. So I steeled myself against the fear and spoke up.

"If you… keep monitoring the intervals between the footsteps…"

My voice trailed off on its own. Backing down now would look truly pathetic. I swallowed hard and forced the rest out.

"I'll open the cabinets."

"You'll open them yourself?"

"Yes. I can't just sit here saying I'm too scared to do anything."

A worried look crossed her face — no, uneasy was more accurate. She was probably already imagining what would happen if I screamed while opening one.

"I'll be careful. I understand the situation."

"Ah… then go ahead, as long as you don't push yourself. If you really can't do it, I'll handle it."

With our roles divided, she headed back to the door. She pressed herself close to it and listened for the footsteps in the corridor.

And I was left alone in front of the cabinets.

"…"

…Had I overdone it?

The moment I actually had to open a cabinet by myself, I hesitated. But rationally, this was the right call. Fear was just feeding the hesitation.

There's nothing in there.

I forced myself to calm down and set my hand on the cabinet handle.

"…Hup."

I steeled myself and pulled — but the door didn't budge. Locked.

A small wave of relief hit me, along with a faint, complicated disappointment. There were four rows of these cabinets. Checking them all would take time.

I moved to the next one and tried again.

Click.

This one opened.

Creeeeak…

The rusted hinges groaned ominously.

Please, please be quiet…

I prayed silently and cracked the door just wide enough for a finger. The inside was pitch black. Without craning my neck, I leaned my upper body back at an awkward angle and peered in.

I couldn't see a thing. I stared into the gap for a long time before gritting my teeth and pulling the door open a little further.

Creak.

What the darkness revealed was a few old hangers and a layer of dust on the floor. That was it.

"…Ha."

A breath of relief slipped out before I could stop it. Just an ordinary cabinet left unopened for a long time.

…Why am I sweating over something like this?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I wiped my forehead with my sleeve. Then a small mirror fixed to the inside of the cabinet door caught my eye. It was smeared with stains and dust, not sharp enough for a clear reflection — but enough to make out a face.

Come to think of it, I still hadn't properly seen my own face.

I carefully brought my face closer to the mirror. In the dark room, a strange boy stared back at me from the stained glass.

"…What the hell."

The words came out on their own.

Skin so pale it was almost white. A slender, smooth jawline. A face that hadn't fully matured yet, still carrying a touch of youth. Large, clear eyes. A nose and mouth almost too perfectly shaped.

Handsome. But… far too delicate-looking.

No matter how I looked at it, this was not an adult man's face. Generously, a high schooler. If you said he looked young, someone could easily mistake him for a middle schooler. And the lines of the face were excessively fine and soft. Like some pretty-boy gigolo from an old story.

I studied the face in the mirror from every angle, half-dazed. I tilted my chin up, hoping a different angle might look more masculine, and tried tensing my eyebrows. But the boy in the mirror didn't look sharper — he just looked like a scared cat putting on a tough act.

"…"

From a middle-aged man to a young, handsome schoolboy. By any measure, it was like winning the lottery. Shouldn't I be happy about this?

So why didn't I feel even a little glad?

No — I wasn't even sure this counted as handsome. It was just too delicate. This was the face of someone who hides behind a woman in a horror story, causes a disaster at the critical moment, and dies a miserable death.

My complaints about my appearance didn't last long. They couldn't — surviving this place came first. Looks only mattered if I was still alive to have them.

At least now I understood why Han Yuna had switched to casual speech the moment she saw me, without any hesitation.

…She probably wouldn't believe me if I said I was an adult either.

She had made a faintly odd expression earlier when I told her, after all.

Anyway, I went through the remaining cabinets one after another. Some were locked, some ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠opened — but among the ones that did, nothing particularly useful turned up.

Then I opened a cabinet somewhere in the middle.

"…What's this?"

For the first time, something was hanging inside an otherwise empty wardrobe. Two thick suits that covered all the way up to the neck. The wrists and ankles could be cinched tight so no gaps remained, and the fabric was a stiff material I couldn't identify — rubber, maybe, or some kind of synthetic fiber. Beneath them, thick gloves and boots as well.

They looked like protective gear designed to block chemical agents or something similar.

Earlier, when Han Yuna described this building, she'd said it was a water park or swimming facility of some kind. So why were hazmat suits here instead of swimwear? And not one set — exactly two. As if they'd been prepared specifically for us to wear.

The thought made the suits' presence suddenly feel chilling.

I stepped back from the cabinet and called Han Yuna over. She came right away. While we examined the protective suits together, she mentioned she'd figured out the pattern.

"It comes up to the door, stands there for a moment, then heads back down the other end of the corridor. After a set amount of time, it comes back."

"So it just keeps going back and forth?"

"So far, yes. But… after it leaves the door and gets farther away, I hear a strange sound. I don't know what it is."

I glanced at the protective suits again.

"If whatever's outside the door isn't human…"

"It's probably an Anomaly."

She said it like she already knew. I tilted my head.

"An Anomaly?"

"Yes. Ghosts, monsters — things that don't make sense by ordinary standards."

"Ah… so if we go with that assumption, are these like protective suits that shield you from Anomalies?"

Han Yuna examined the inside of the cabinet. She felt the fabric herself, checked the cinching mechanisms around the wrists and neck one by one, then spoke.

"Given the thickness, and the way they're designed so no gaps form… they do seem made to block something."

"Maybe water?"

"Could be. Either way, it looks like we're supposed to put these on and go outside."

"…Yeah."

We opened the rest of the cabinets in order, but nothing useful enough to change the situation turned up. The one thing we managed to salvage was a lantern slightly larger than a palm. We confirmed it worked.

Once things were more or less sorted, we sat facing each other and laid out a plan.

First, put on the protective suits. Then open the door according to the Anomaly's movement cycle that Han Yuna had mapped out. When the thing outside passed down the corridor and that strange sound started up in the distance — that was when we'd leave the room. If we didn't go during the strange-sound window, the time until the next cycle would be too tight.

With the plan set, we each took a protective suit and stepped into separate rows of cabinets. There was no proper changing space, so we picked spots where we couldn't easily see each other.

The only sounds in the room were the rustle of thick fabric and the occasional strained grunt.

These things were surprisingly hard to put on. Not that I'd ever worn anything like them. Completely different from the protective gear used in chemical warfare drills — I struggled.

"Ugh… nn…"

After a hard-fought battle, I finally ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dragged the zipper up to my neck. The heavy fabric wrapped my entire body in a dull weight. It was heavier than expected, stiff and catching with every movement of my arms and legs. I tugged the collar away from my neck with a finger, let it snap back, and called out.

"Are you done?"

"…Yes, I got mine on pretty quickly."

Quickly? This complicated thing? Had she worn something like this before?

As a man, I couldn't help feeling a little wounded in my pride.

Either way, once we were ready, we took our positions at the door again. Han Yuna gripped the handle. I stood behind her, clutching the lantern. Even through the gloves, I could feel my palms sweating.

How long did we wait?

From the quiet corridor beyond, footsteps began to approach.

Slap. Slap.

Wet bare feet. And heavy-sounding ones, at that. The sound was coming this way. My heart started hammering in time with the footsteps.

…I have to hold it in.

I bit down hard on the inside of my lip. I absolutely had to hold it in. I couldn't wreck the plan right at the start.

Slap.

The footsteps stopped in front of the door. Beyond it, silence returned. Even the sound of swallowing felt like it would be too loud, so I held my breath entirely.

In that suffocating tension, the footsteps began to recede again.

And then —

Grrrk. Thud. Scrape.

An unidentifiable sound drifted through.

Han Yuna looked back at me, her lips moving without a sound.

Now.

Click.

The doorknob turned.