The sound of the door locking snapped once inside the room.
Click.
It was a small sound, but for some reason it rang loud.
I listened toward the hallway for a moment.
There were no passing footsteps, no sound of someone mistakenly grabbing the doorknob.
Only then did a little of the tension in my shoulders ease.
It wasn’t a good habit.
The kind of life where the moment I entered a room, I held my breath and locked the door.
But here, I wasn’t even sure what was supposed to count as a good habit.
It was a school, but it didn’t feel like a school at all.
I threw my coat onto the end of the bed and sat down at the desk.
When I lit the lamp, the shadow on the wall swayed briefly. As the light settled into place, exhaustion came pressing in with it.
My body was tired too.
But more than that, my head was tired.
The blueprints.
The Management Area.
The iron door on the southeast side of the laboratory building.
The people in gray uniforms.
The scent Mia said she had picked up.
Taken one by one, all of them were vague.
But when I put them together, the vague things began pushing one another into shape.
Alone, they were blurry, but placed side by side, a form slowly emerged.
That made me feel even worse.
I was about to lean back against the chair without thinking, then stopped and straightened my back again.
At times like this, I couldn’t let myself get comfortable.
The moment a person’s body relaxes, their thoughts loosen along with it.
What I needed right now wasn’t to feel at ease for a moment, but to organize my thoughts properly.
First, the order of events.
The device in the laboratory building exploded.
Erka said the device’s reaction had been strange.
What bothered me more than the device was what lay beneath it.
Mia said the scent she had picked up behind the main building had spread more thinly through the school.
The initial layout records Erka brought tonight were different from the current floor plan, and there was a marking on them that looked like a Management Area.
Management Area.
I rubbed the edge of the desk once with my fingertips.
A very plausible name.
The problem was that this world originally hid things that way.
Places like this rarely used kind names.
Secret passage. Sealing chamber. Isolation section.
If they wrote it that blatantly, even the dullest bastard would look back at least once.
So they always twisted it by one layer.
Management Area. Maintenance Area. Storage Area.
It didn’t sound like anything special.
It didn’t catch people’s eyes, and even if it did, they just moved on.
A normal person would see that kind of label and stop there.
It’s a school, so of course they’d have places like that.
It’s a facility, so of course there’d be a Management Area.
That would be all.
And for most people, it ended there.
The problem was that I couldn’t just let things like that pass.
How many years had I thrown myself at that damned trash game?
One wrong touch and your character dropped dead, the explanations were a mess, and anything important was always blurred over.
If they were going to bring it back later, they could have just shown it properly from the start, but they always left it there as if to piss people off.
Instead of showing it head-on, they flashed it once in the background.
It appeared as if passing beyond a cutscene window, or got shoved carelessly into a single line of description.
Then only in the latter half would you realize, Ah, it was there since then.
It was always like that.
A design with a rotten personality.
People who played the game normally didn’t look that far.
Even if they wanted to, they couldn’t.
The one who was strange was someone like me, who dug through deleted logs, revisited points where events had collided, enlarged cutscene backgrounds, and spent hours staring at why that line was there.
I closed my eyes and recalled the blueprint I had seen today.
Memorizing it exactly was impossible.
If I had that kind of talent, I wouldn’t have lived like that at the company either.
A person who had to reread a single line of a report several times wasn’t going to suddenly become a genius at memorization.
I opened my notebook and drew the lines I remembered with a pen.
Laboratory building. Hallway. Main building.
And below that.
I still didn’t know exactly what was there.
It could be a passage, an isolation space, or an experimental facility.
There was also the possibility that it was something even older.
But it wasn’t anything good.
That much was certain.
In the end, the problem was one thing.
What lay below was something that shouldn’t be touched.
I dragged a hand down my face.
Supporting characters who dug too deeply a little too early always disappeared quickly.
Their records were wiped clean, their routes got tangled, or they were simply dealt with in lines like “they were never seen again after that.”
I had seen too many scenes like that.
I sat on the end of the bed, then stood up again.
Sitting only made me feel more tired.
I wondered if lying down might at least make sleep come, but that night, sleep did not come easily.
The next day, before sitting down with my tray, I glanced past the dining hall entrance toward the hallway leading to the main building.
A sign had been set up there.
From a distance, it just looked like a facility notice.
Access to certain areas restricted due to facility maintenance.
Nice.
There was no need to go closer.
The wording alone was enough.
At the end of the hallway stood two people in gray uniforms.
They weren’t openly blocking the way.
“You saw it and just walked past.”
At the low voice beside me, I only turned my head slightly.
It was Erka.
She always had to be around at times like this.
“You too.”
“I’ve always been good at pretending not to notice suspicious things.”
“When you say that, I can’t believe it.”
Instead of answering, Erka looked toward the hallway once more.
Then she placed her tray on the seat across from me as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She really did slip into someone else’s table naturally.
Her personality was the same as ever.
“It’d be better not to touch the area marked as Management Area for now.”
When I spoke quietly, Erka narrowed her eyes a little.
“For now, you say.”
“Yeah. For now.”
A brief silence settled between us.
The dining hall was as noisy as usual.
I scooped up a spoonful of soup and immediately regretted it.
It was lukewarm again today.
At this point, even if I set aside the fact that it tasted bad, the temperature was remarkably consistent.
It steadily ruined a person’s mood.
“The materials?”
When I asked quietly, Erka tore off a piece of bread and answered briefly.
“I’m looking.”
“Don’t get caught.”
“You too.”
That was all.
Neither of us pried any further, and neither of us explained more.
I tore off some bread, dipped it into the soup, and ate it.
Then I happened to look ahead, and my hand paused for a moment.
It was Rine.
Rine was smiling.
She was mixed among people as usual, and as usual, she was talking to others.
From the outside, she looked like one of those kind girls often seen in the Department of Sacred Arts.
The problem was that when the student across from her almost dropped a cup, Rine reached out first.
A little water splashed, but it didn’t spill completely.
People around them said that was a relief, and Rine smiled and said it was fine.
Up to that point, it wasn’t anything special.
But when she set the cup down, the strength left her hand and she nearly dropped it.
Tak.
The student sitting in front of Rine immediately raised their head.
“Huh? Are you okay?”
Rine smiled right away.
“I’m okay. I was just startled for a moment.”
There were always kids like that.
When it came to other people’s business, their hands moved first, but when it came to themselves, they put on a face that said nothing was wrong.
That was also why Rine was dangerous in the original.
On the outside, she looked the most normal, and she was the kindest to others, but when it came to herself, she hid everything until the very end.
So when Rine finally collapsed, it was almost always right before a bad ending.
I looked that way one more time for no reason, then withdrew my gaze.
There was no reason to stare.
We weren’t close enough for that, and if I looked at her like that, I’d be the weird one.
Still, pretending not to see something like that after seeing it felt a little wrong.
When I finished eating and stood up, it caught my eye once more.
Rine had stood up first, but she couldn’t move right away.
While the other kids took their trays and left ahead of her, she stood there alone for a moment.
At most, she was only delayed by two or three steps, but maybe because I had seen what happened earlier, it remained in my eyes even more.
Then she followed them out with a face that said nothing had happened.
That was enough.
It wasn’t that I was being sensitive and noticing something for no reason; it was showing.
Not in a huge way, but in a way that made it hard to simply let pass.
The bottom of the school was suspicious, and the people above it didn’t look all that fine either.
Nothing ever rolled along comfortably.
The next time I saw Rine was during a general education class on sanctuaries and seals.
It was a common class that all preparatory students took together at least once, regardless of department.
It was a class where we learned things like the basic systems of sanctuaries, seal support personnel, and the minimum rules to follow during purification rituals.
The kind of class that made you sleepy if you listened, but would definitely come back to trip you up later if you didn’t.
The professor lectured at the front, and the students pretended to listen to a suitable degree.
I also had my notebook open, held a pen, and took notes at an appropriate pace.
Only on the outside.
Then my gaze caught on the front row, diagonally ahead.
It was Rine.
She was sitting as usual.
Her back was straight, her writing tools were neatly arranged, and her expression looked fine.
The problem was that a small incident occurred in the middle of class.
A student beside her cut their hand on the edge of a piece of paper.
It wasn’t a serious wound.
Just enough for a tiny bead of blood to form.
It was a small accident that the students around them could have ended with a bit of murmuring.
Rine moved first.
“Wait a moment.”
Her voice was gentle.
A familiar kind of voice.
A faint light gathered at Rine’s fingertips.
The shallow wound was quickly dealt with.
People around her thanked her, and the professor moved on without saying much.
To others, it was just a scene where a kind girl healed a small cut.
But this time, what came after bothered me.
As soon as Rine withdrew her hand, she braced herself against the edge of the desk.
I wasn’t the only one who saw it.
One of the students beside her asked first.
“Are you okay?”
Rine smiled right away.
“I’m okay. I just got a little dizzy.”
That was what she said, but her complexion was not the same as before.
Anyone could see she had gone pale for a moment and was hurriedly holding only her expression together.
This was enough.
It wasn’t that I was being pointlessly sensitive; it really was showing.
I pressed my brow once.
Nice.
Of course it had to be like this again.
On Erka’s side, the device went off first.
On Rine’s side, a person’s body was on the verge of going off.
One was a spell device, the other was a branded one.
If both started creaking in similar ways around the same time, there was no reason to look at them separately.
In the original too, combinations like this always made people feel like shit.
If something rising from below interfered with the flow of mana, the things that showed symptoms first were always decided.
Sensitive devices went out of order first, and next, the mana of those in the Department of Sacred Arts or the branded ones ran wild.
I wasn’t saying Rine was about to lose control right this instant.
But it felt far too unpleasant to dismiss her condition as just one tired student.
In the original, things that began like that never ended well.
Whether it led to purification backlash, mana draining out first, or in severe cases, something close to an outbreak.
Something was rising from below.
Really nice.
If this was truly the thing I knew, then from now on, this wasn’t just a matter of one iron door.
After class ended, the students poured into the hallway in a rush.
I deliberately moved a little late.
Rine had stopped for a moment by the window.
She looked as if she were getting some air, but in truth, it seemed closer to resting.
A scene where someone might ask at least once if she was okay.
So in the end, I couldn’t just pass by either.
I slowed my steps at a suitable distance.
“Are you okay?”
Rine raised her head.
Her expression wasn’t that of someone looking at a stranger.
After a brief hint of surprise, the recognition of, Ah, that person from then, passed very quickly.
“Ah… yes.”
She smiled.
“I’m okay.”
Of course she would answer like that.
“You didn’t look okay.”
Rine’s eyes wavered for a very brief moment.
Then they settled again.
“I’m just a little tired.”
It sounded perfectly fine.
That made it even worse.
When people were truly unwell, the first words they reached for were always similar.
I’m okay.
I’m just a little tired.
Words meant to reassure the listener came out first.
I didn’t ask any further.
“Still, don’t overdo it.”
When I said it briefly, Rine paused ever so slightly, then nodded.
“Yes. Back then too… you helped me.”
Her words were very quiet.
She didn’t go out of her way to add a long thank-you.
That much felt more like Rine.
I only nodded once without saying anything else.
Then I turned away.
That was just the right amount.
Even as I walked down the hallway, my mind grew more complicated.
That night, even after lying down in bed, sleep did not come easily.
The important things were never shown properly.
They were hidden under one layer, glossed over vaguely, and only much later did the game reveal that it had been strange from back then.
My death had been the same.
Right after enrollment. A certain accident. A vague handling.
Why I died, where I got tangled up wrong, what the cause had been.
All of it had been passed over in a blur.
That was why it felt even more disgusting.