The night didn't end after Airi vanished.
If anything, it felt like something had opened—like her release had torn a veil loose between the world of the living… and something deeper.
Riku stood alone in the hallway of the dorm.
But the warmth from her still clung to his skin—her scent, the feel of her tight, wet heat pulsing around him. The way her voice had broken in release.
It should've felt like a victory.
Instead…
It felt like an invitation.
Down the hall, past the moonlit windows, a door creaked.
Creak…
Soft. Barely audible. But enough.
Room 103.
Riku turned toward it, his heart pounding—not in fear this time, but anticipation. The taste of sex and sorrow hadn't faded from his mouth. His cock stirred again in his pants, still wet from Airi's climax.
But this door… this room…
It was colder.
He stepped closer.
The faintest sound leaked through the keyhole.
A baby's cry.
It wasn't loud.
It was wrong.
Like a memory of crying, not the real thing—repeating in a loop, distorted by time. Echoing like it had been crying for years, forgotten.
Riku's hand hovered above the doorknob. His palm tingled. He could feel the aura of pain behind it—loneliness, betrayal… and something even darker.
He opened the door.
The nursery inside was untouched by time.
Old toys sat on broken shelves. A cracked mobile hung over a rusted crib, spinning slowly though there was no wind. Faint candlelight flickered from an unseen source, painting the walls with trembling shadows of stuffed animals and cracked porcelain dolls.
And in the middle of it—
A girl.
She sat on the floor.
Naked except for a stained hospital blanket wrapped around her shoulders, thin and soaked with something dark. Her long black hair fell like a veil over her face, wet and clinging.
She didn't look up.
Her knees were drawn to her chest. Her pale thighs were smeared with dried blood between them—like someone had torn something precious from her and left her here to bleed.
The scent was sharp.
Blood… sweat… and something else.
Lust.
Not fresh—but trapped.
Festered.
"...Who…" Riku's voice cracked. "Who are you?"
She didn't move. But her lips parted, whispering something in a trembling voice.
"…He left me… after taking it…"
A pause.
"…Will you take it too?"
The room shivered.
A gust of cold wind surged around Riku, and the toys scattered like they were trying to escape. The mobile above the crib spun wildly.
Then—
She raised her face.
And fuck, Riku's breath caught.
She was… beautiful.
Devastatingly so.
But not in the way Airi had been. This girl's eyes were voids of grief, her cheeks hollow from crying too long. Her lips were swollen, bitten raw from screaming into silence.
And yet her body…
Her breasts were full, hanging soft and heavy as she sat curled, pink nipples stiff from the cold. Her stomach bore faint stretch marks, and her hips were wide, thighs thick—like she'd been made to carry life before she was ready.
And between her legs…
Still wet.
Still aching.
Still wanting.
Riku's cock throbbed.
"I'm not here to take," he said, stepping closer, voice soft. "I'm here to give you what no one else did."
She looked up at him.
"…Warmth?"
He nodded.
She opened the blanket—slowly, shyly—revealing her entire body.
Her thighs were spread slightly, inner lips glistening with a mix of fresh arousal and the stains of pain long past. The smell of her desire hit him, raw and metallic and soaked in emotion.
And then—
She whispered, "I want to feel like I belong to someone."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"…Can I belong to you?"
The moment she spread her legs for him—blanket falling away—Riku felt like he was staring into something sacred and forbidden.
Her body wasn't flawless.
It was real.
Pale skin, bruised by memory. Full breasts with soft stretch marks trailing down her sides. A belly that once bore life. Thick, trembling thighs that begged to be kissed.
And her pussy…
Red. Wet. Raw.
Not from violence—but from a desperate, aching need.
Tears dripped from her eyes as she opened herself wider.
"I've been waiting," she whispered. "Someone… to take me back. To make me feel wanted, not used."
Riku knelt in front of her—his fingertips trembling.
He didn't touch her right away.
Instead, he leaned in, his breath ghosting across the lips of her pussy, inhaling her scent deeply. Musky. Tangy. Human.
She twitched.
"I've never been kissed… there before…" she said, voice barely audible.
He didn't answer.
His tongue did.
Riku leaned in and slowly dragged his tongue between her folds—parting her swollen lips and tasting her grief.
"AH—!" Her body bucked. She grabbed his hair without meaning to.
But he didn't stop.
He licked deeper—long strokes from clit to entrance—slow, savoring. His mouth worshipped her broken heat like it was his only religion. And she—
She cried harder.
But not in pain.
"Oh… oh god… I can't—nobody's ever—Riku—!"
Her thighs clamped around his head, smothering him in her juices. Her clit throbbed against his tongue, swollen and pulsing. And when he wrapped his lips around it and sucked, she screamed.
Her orgasm slammed into her like a wave.
Her hips jerked wildly, pussy gushing against his face, soaking his chin and neck. He didn't pull back. He licked through it, moaning into her, drinking down her sorrow like a potion.
When her body finally relaxed, she was panting—drenched in sweat, tears streaking her cheeks.
"…I thought I was broken…"
"You're not."
She opened her arms.
"Then make me whole."
Riku stood, his cock already throbbing and wet with need. He peeled off his shirt, then dropped his pants—and her eyes locked on him, wide and innocent despite everything.
"Will it hurt again?" she asked.
"I'll go slow."
He climbed onto her. Her legs parted naturally beneath him, inviting him into the warmth between them. Her pussy still twitched, slick from release. He guided his cock to her entrance and paused.
"Tell me your name," he whispered.
"…Hinata."
And with that—
He entered her.
Slow.
Tight.
Hot.
Like sliding into a velvet furnace. Her body clung to him, welcomed him, drank him in inch by inch. And when he bottomed out, their hips flush, he felt it—
Her soul wrapping around his.
She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her. Their bodies moved together, not violently—but like a lullaby. Soft thrusts. Wet sounds. Skin to skin.
Her breasts bounced with each slow motion, the curve of her belly trembling. Her hands explored his back, his arms, his chest—like she was memorizing a dream.
Then—
From her nipples… a trickle of milk.
Riku paused.
Hinata gasped.
"I… I didn't know I still…"
He kissed her neck.
"It's beautiful."
He took her nipple into his mouth—softly, hungrily—and suckled.
Sweet. Warm. Laced with grief.
She cried again—but smiled.
"Nobody ever fed from me… like I mattered…"
His hips moved faster now, rhythm building. Her pussy clenched around him, wetter with every thrust. Her cries filled the nursery—high-pitched, desperate, loving.
She held him tighter, her legs trembling.
"I'm going to—!"
"Let go," he whispered.
She did.
Hinata came with a moan that split into a sob—gushing again, soaking both their thighs. Her pussy squeezed him hard and fast, milking him for everything he had.
Riku thrust deep one last time and exploded inside her.
Warm. Thick. Endless.
She shook from the fullness—his cum flooding her womb, mixing with her milk, soaking her soul.
And then—
The crying stopped.
The nursery grew still.
Hinata looked up at him.
And smiled.
"…You gave me something no one ever did."
"Love?" he whispered.
She nodded.
And then vanished—leaving the blanket, and the smell of milk and sex behind.
The nursery grew silent, save for the fading echoes of Hinata's cries.
Riku knelt on the cold floor, his chest heaving, every inch of his body still trembling from their tangled release. The thick warmth inside her still pulsed, mingling with the last traces of her milk and sorrow.
Her smile lingered in the air—a fragile bloom breaking through decades of dark.
The flickering candlelight cast gentle shadows over the scattered toys, and for a fleeting moment, the room felt alive again.
But the weight of the night pressed on.
Riku's hand rested on the damp blanket she left behind. It smelled faintly of milk and hope.
A soft whisper brushed through the room—barely audible, yet unmistakably real.
"More are waiting... deeper in the night... beneath the hollowed streets..."
He stood, the ache in his cock reminding him that this was far from over.
The nursery door creaked open behind him, revealing a dark corridor lined with peeling wallpaper and flickering lights.
The key in his pocket pulsed again—a cold, hungry beat.
He clenched it tight.
The path was clear.
The hunt was just beginning.