A completely unprecedented new development meant the investigation was venturing into unknown territory—and unknown dangers were closing in.
For Takakai, the biggest problem now was that he had once again been separated from the only experienced teammate, Kaguya, and was left to guide a complete newbie—Hayasaka Ai, who was already severely traumatized.
In other words: another babysitting round.
Hope I don't get her killed. Or get myself killed because of her. Both seem equally likely at this point.
With that thought, Takakai moved cautiously but swiftly along the edge of the large kitchen, carefully inspecting every nook while avoiding places where [Kurokko] might hide—large cabinets, refrigerators, anything with enough space to conceal something.
*Unless some kid imagined a *[Kurokko] that could shrink or grow at will…
…No. Probably not. Maybe.
Regardless, his guard was at its peak. The 20-sided die had rolled a 6 earlier when he'd asked, "What happens if we stay here for 30 minutes?"
A result below 10 meant danger was coming—just not immediately.
So he gave himself three minutes to search. If he found nothing by then, they'd leave.
Could there be more [Student Rules] here?
The one he'd seen earlier—carved by a child, likely under adult guidance—made him wonder: Had survivors once existed in this dungeon?
Like the Kyūsho Organization in Shirakawa Apartments, had people struggled to live here after the school twisted into a nightmare?
No… probably not.
Shirakawa was Twilight or Dark Night-tier—far easier than this Crimson Moon hellscape. Even then, its survivors had been wiped out.
But… the KP designing this place loves tragedy. If it's for "narrative flavor," maybe there were survivors—just long dead by the time players arrived.
Takakai kept searching.
Soon, he found the cafeteria serving window—its gap wide enough for a grown man to crawl through.
Beyond it, the dining hall was in chaos. Tables and chairs were piled haphazardly, blocking a door on one side. A futile barricade—physical barriers meant little to ayakashi.
On the window's glass, another child's crayon rule:
[Student Rule #3]
Cafeteria hours: 7:00-8:20, 11:30-12:50, 17:30-18:50. Food is always provided. During service:
DO NOT speak to staff.
Eat quickly and silently.
If you hear laughter, crying, knocking, or climbing sounds from the window or barricaded door, go to the 2nd floor and follow the arrows to the shelter.
Below the text were small shoe prints (a child's) and larger handprints (an adult's).
Takakai pictured it: A kid standing on the counter, carefully writing while an adult steadied them.
Is there a clock here?
His flashlight soon found one on the wall. Dusty, but readable:
[11:28]
Of fucking course.
"Hayasaka-san, time to go."
He turned to find her already dressed, the soaked T-shirt clinging to her frame.
But her demeanor had shifted completely—cold, expressionless, the very image of a detached maid. A quiet "Yes" was her only reply before she followed.
Personality switch? But my blessing detects no possession. Is this her disguise ability?
In truth, during Takakai's search, Hayasaka had forced herself into this state—suppressing her panic through sheer will. Normally, she could shift personas instantly, but this time, it took agonizing minutes.
I can't be dead weight. I must be useful.
Meeting Takakai's gaze, she watched as he slid through the window gap, then gestured for her to follow.
"Hurry. This place isn't safe."
The clock ticked to 11:29.
A gust of wind—and the scent of lavender—as Hayasaka flipped through the gap, landing soundlessly on the other side.
No words needed. They dashed for the stairs, reaching the second floor in seconds.
The Nap Room Barricade
The upstairs was a dilapidated nap room, its beds rearranged into barricades blocking every door.
On one door, crayon text:
~~Safe~~ (scratched out)
Danger (in red, freshly marked)
Some beds were stacked diagonally, forming a low wall in the room's center. On its planks, more childish writing:
[Hide here.]
Hide from what?
A deep chime echoed from below—11:30.
Then came footsteps. Dozens, descending the stairs toward the cafeteria.
Students heading to lunch?
But one set of steps lingered—erratic, circling the nap room.
Takakai grabbed Hayasaka, pulling her behind the bed-wall as the steps drew closer.
Then—
"Takakai-san? Hayasaka? Are you there? It's me—Shinomiya."
A face peered over the barricade: Kaguya's.
But the space below was empty.
"I could've sworn…"
She crouched, carefully smoothing her skirt, and checked under the beds.
Takakai, clamping a hand over Hayasaka's mouth, was already slinking away toward the stairs.
Hayasaka trembled in his grip.
She'd recognized that voice—Kaguya's tone, cadence, everything.
Yet neither moved to confirm.
Because the thing wearing Kaguya's face was—
Only 130 cm tall.
Dressed in an outdated uniform.
Its head grotesquely oversized, like a doll's.
And yet…
Takakai's blessing sensed no malice.
To his perception, it was still "human."
What kind of rule is this?
He had no time to ponder. As they retreated, the thing's head snapped toward them.
"Takakai-san, it's you, isn't it?"
No footsteps this time.
Just—
Creak… creak…
A wooden monkey toy toddled into view, waving its arms.
Kaguya picked it up.
Silence fell.
Then—
THUD.
A head hit the floor, rolling… rolling…
Until it came to rest at Takakai's hiding spot, staring up with Kaguya's smiling face.
"Ah! Takakai-san, Hayasaka—there you are!"
At the same time—
SCRAPE—
The headless body dropped to all fours, crawling into the bed's shadow where they hid.