I created a foundation

A century.

Another century.

Yuigahama Yui and Miura Yumiko huddled in a cold corner of the classroom.

The cement walls exuded a chilling coldness.

They hugged each other tightly.

Trying to draw a tiny bit of warmth from the other person's trembling body.

This effort is doomed to be in vain.

Yumiko Miura buried her face deeply in Yuigahama's neck.

Yuigahama could clearly feel the tip of her cold nose.

And the uncontrollable, subtle trembling was coming through the thin fabric.

"Woo..."

A suppressed sob escaped from Miura's throat.

Thin mosquitoes.

In this dead silence, it was as piercing as thunder.

Yuigahama's body stiffened for a moment.

She wanted to speak comfortingly.

My throat felt like it was being strangled by an invisible hand.

Unable to pronounce any meaningful syllables.

The scene from last night.

Like the most vicious curse, it replayed in my mind over and over again.

Those companions who chatter together, share snacks, and discuss the latest hairpins.

His voice, appearance and smile are still in front of my eyes.

In the blink of an eye, they turned into cold objects that had lost all life.

quietly.

Fall down.

There was no struggle.

There was no cry for help.

They could even clearly recall the sweet smile frozen on the face of a murdered girl, with a hint of confusion.

That was his last expression before being dragged into an eternal nightmare.

Yuigahama's stomach began to twitch violently at the thought of this.

She forced herself to swallow.

I struggled to suppress the urge to vomit that was about to burst out of my throat.

Sweet aroma.

The man's elegant smiling face.

Fragments of nightmares intertwine and entwine.

They dared not close their eyes.

The sweet trap of fear will creep in again.

Once you fall asleep, you can never wake up again.

They didn't even dare to open their eyes and look around.

Afraid that at some inadvertent moment.

That demon will emerge from the shadows somewhere in the classroom.

With his hypocritical mask of politeness.

Smilingly announcing the beginning of another death feast.

Every second of waiting is a ruthless cutting on the nerves.

Hayato Hayama leaned against the wall on the other side.

His face was even paler than the rough concrete wall itself.

Cold sweat soaked the hair on his forehead.

Strands of it stuck to the skin in a messy manner.

The calmness and composure that he usually prided himself on were now gone.

My heart was beating wildly in my chest.

Every dull impact echoed clearly in the eardrum.

It was the first time he felt it so deeply.

wait.

It turned out not to be a prelude to hope.

It is the most cruel invisible torture.

Every point.

every second.

They are all lingchi.

Stripping away people's will and courage bit by bit.

Until it completely collapsed.

He even began to experience delusions and auditory hallucinations.

I felt that sickeningly sweet aroma begin to permeate the air again.

Like countless invisible threads.

Tenderly wrapped around his mouth and nose.

Trying to penetrate his lungs.

Occupy his mind.

He rubbed his nose vigorously with the back of his hand.

Trying to dispel a smell that wasn't there.

My fingertips touched something cold and slippery.

Covered in cold sweat.

It is an illusion.

perhaps.

He wasn't entirely sure anymore.

The boundaries of sanity are blurring.

The center of the classroom.

It is in stark contrast to these three people whose souls are almost crushed by fear.

It's Yukinoshita Yukino.

She did not choose any corner to seek refuge.

He didn't show any nervousness or anxiety.

She casually dragged over a solitary wooden chair.

The chair legs scraped against the rough concrete floor.

There was a slight "creak" sound.

In this extreme silence, the sound seemed particularly abrupt.

Like a stone thrown into stagnant water.

Yuigahama and Miura's bodies shook almost at the same time.

Like a frightened little animal, it looked towards the source of the sound in horror.

Yukino ignored their reactions.

She placed the chair firmly in the most conspicuous position in the room.

The most central location where there is nowhere to hide.

then.

She sat down calmly.

The movements are smooth and natural.

Without any hesitation or affectation.

It wasn't as if they were in a dangerous place where a bloody and fatal battle could break out at any time.

But it was the comfortable chair with soft cushions in his own study.

Her back was straight.

Relax your shoulders naturally.

There was no sign of defensive tension.

It seemed as if the person he was about to face next was not a bloodthirsty evil spirit that fed on fear.

It was just an ordinary evening study session.