The rules of the game might initially seem like something difficult to understand. Ah, these rules. Multi-layered, like an onion. But if you cut it, no, even just look closer, it becomes clear that everything is much simpler than one would like.
As mentioned earlier, the witch summoned six participants. Six figures. Six lives. Six stories. And all this to begin her own, damn theatrical game.
The island doesn't actually exist in any of the dimensions. Think about it, in none. Not in the known, not in the imaginary. It is something intermediate between "nothing" and "too much." One could call it a fiction… yes, one could, if it weren't standing right under our feet.
A paradox? Perhaps. But if it appears, it means it exists. And if it exists, it means it is… not a fiction. Although, perhaps, the non-existent can also exist if the witch wants it.
It is located in the middle of an endless ocean. And this ocean isn't quite an ocean either. It's more of a metaphor. A sensation. A confined space of infinity. It cannot be reached. It appears together with the island. Like a bonus addition. Like a shadow behind your back that you don't notice until you turn around.
But there must be reasons why the witch starts the game. She can't do it without motivation… right? Although… she can. She is a witch, after all.
She said that boredom is her worst enemy. It sounded almost human. Boredom, loneliness… And at the same time, when there's no one else around you, it sounds… a terrifying truth. Even in this dense, seemingly saturated forest, not a trace of life. No squirrel, no mouse, no mosquito. Only wind and emptiness.
Well, except for seagulls. Yes, seagulls are constantly flying here. That's perhaps the only living thing surrounding us.
Living?
She is dead. Died long ago. But her soul, as they would say in ancient times, remained wandering. Sealed here. Forever. Forever, a word that emanates cold.
Should one feel pity for such a person?
A trick question. A question with thorns. A question that cannot be answered with "yes" or "no" without selling oneself out completely. The answer might seem obvious… but not in this case.
She forcibly makes us play. A survival game. To get something cherished… you need to kill.
Kill. Just kill. Each other. For the sake of a phantom dream, what foolishness. No, what utter nonsense.
Although we all strive for something. Even me. Especially me. Everyone had their own goals, their own dreams. But none of us managed to achieve them.
That's why we are here.
They died without ever understanding the joy of life. The joy of life… an empty word for those who knew only suffering. And suffering is universal. It comes to everyone, like death.
Now they are given a new opportunity. A dream in exchange for survival. A toy with the smell of blood.
The task seemed simple. Survive until the seventh day and you win. But we all understood, it's a lie. A beautiful, ringing promise wrapped around a knife.
What will she achieve with this game?
It's hard for me to believe that all this is just out of boredom. A boredom capable of causing death.
However, I stopped thinking about it. Right now it doesn't matter. Everything in front of me is an enemy. That must be dealt with.
I almost gave up. Almost lost. Almost let my hands go. Almost. But...
— A beautiful girl with large breasts is counting on me, how can I possibly allow myself to lose!
That's the kind of hero we have.
— I can't wait to see your pathetic face again after another loss, Aragi!
As if on cue, Aragi snapped out of it. Finding strength within yourself when there is none, that is victory. Even if temporary. Even if internal.
The witch has an advantage — magic. A simple answer to any question. Which means an unfair game. As if it was ever fair.
— Let's return to the moment when all participants just reached the library door…
And another round of words began. Like chess, only with jabs and shouts.
— This is your doing, I know for sure…
— You decided to attack me in such a pathetic way…
«I don't have a special plan. I can only hope for what I have.»
It sounds logical. Almost.
— Let's start with the fact that you cannot assert my participation in this…
— Don't forget, the alibis of the others were proven that night, but not his.
«I knew it might not work, but I decided to try anyway…»
Otherwise, why speak at all?
A moment surfaced in my mind. A gunshot. The bathroom. Seven bodies. Seven! Isn't that just a coincidence?
And suddenly laughter. Laughter that you want to stuff into a bottle and throw into the sea. Let the seagulls choke on it.
— Exactly so, — said the witch. Like a verdict. Like a compliment.
— What was that just now? — Aragi was truly in shock. He was too shocked.
— Hm? What are you talking about?
She was reading thoughts. All this time. Or just now. Or always.
— Whatever. Just was surprised. Nothing but trouble from witches…
— Really? That's trivial… want me to show you something really interesting?
— Why such courtesy? — Aragi interrupts.
And he's right to do so.
— I got carried away, — she replies. — Your arguments are so weak I almost fell asleep.
Aragi was left with his last trump card. His last ace up his sleeve. And if it doesn't work, all is lost.
— The opening of the door, — uttered Aragi.
And the most important thrust began.
— In the first game, on the second day, Yahweh opened the door. In the second, Cheryl. Why?
He gave the answer himself. Magic. Manipulations. Restarting the world and new rules. A new scene, a new performance.
The witch wasn't surprised. But… was she impressed?
— You really are an interesting person.
It sounded almost like praise. Almost like recognition. Almost like… an invitation?
Aragi didn't stop.
— In other words, Yahweh couldn't open the door because you changed the rules. But you made a mistake. A glitch. And now it's all revealed.
The final attack. A blow straight to the heart of her game.
— You really prepared well…
But… her face was shining. With joy. With excitement. Because finally someone is playing worthily.
— Only everything is far from how you think!
And again laughter.
— Then try to prove otherwise! — Aragi does not retreat.