The next morning, Mari's usual seat in the classroom remained conspicuously empty. For Tetsuya, it was like the universe had suddenly lost its gravitational center. The classroom hummed with its usual morning chaos, but for him — it felt strangely... off-kilter.
He exchanged glances with Riku and Yuria, an unspoken question passing between them.
Yuria leaned over, her voice a hushed reverent whisper.
"Do you think... she's off performing some holy work? Perhaps intervening in a global conflict? Maybe a quiet miracle for someone in need! Oh, imagine!"
Her eyes glowed with hopeful speculation.
Riku scoffed. He tapped his pen against his desk, a familiar dismissive rhythm.
"Yuria, please. Let's apply Occam's Razor here. What is the simplest explanation for a high school student being absent from school? She's sick. That's it. Even... even if she's Mari. The simplest explanation is usually the correct one."
Tetsuya had to admit Riku had a point. It was so painfully normal, it felt almost impossible. Suddenly, Tetsuya's phone buzzed. Then Riku's. Then Yuria's. It was Mari on their group chat.
[Mari]: Good morning, guys. Sorry I'm not in class today. Woke up with a really nasty cold 🤧
Riku stared at his phone, then a wide incredulous grin spread across his face. It was a grin of pure triumph.
"HAH! SEE?! OCCAM'S RAZOR! FINALLY! FINALLY, IT'S RIGHT!"
He exclaimed, startling a few nearby students. He pointed an accusatory finger at Yuria, his eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction.
...
By the time club activities were over, the three friends decided to visit Mari. They arrived at the building, a fairly standard apartment complex. Tetsuya led the way, having been to Mari's place a few times before. He knocked on the door to apartment 303.
Click.
The door slowly, silently swung inward. Just a smooth eerie opening.
The interior was not what Tetsuya remembered. Instead of the usual student's apartment, they were met by an oppressive inky darkness. The air was cool and still, carrying a faint scent of damp stone and something indescribably ancient, like dust motes from a forgotten cosmos. It wasn't dirty, but it was profoundly uninviting. And it was dark.
The space within also felt unnaturally vast, far larger than the dimensions of the apartment building should allow. It stretched out into an unseen abyss, a void that defied the very laws of geometry. A chilling silence hung in the air, broken only by their own hesitant breaths.
"Mari... where are you?"
Tetsuya called out, his voice echoing unsettlingly in the cavernous darkness.
A beat of silence. Then in front of them, an iridescent portal shimmered into existence, revealing a glimpse of a room beyond. It was Mari's bedroom, complete with a messy pile of clothes and a collection of plushie capybaras. Mari herself was propped up in bed, a tissue box beside her, looking pale but otherwise normal.
"Sorry about the ambiance. I've been researching Gothic architecture."
She sniffled, offering a weak apologetic smile.
Riku's jaw dropped. Yuria let out a small gasp. Tetsuya just stared, his mind already accustomed to the absurd:
"Ah, yes. The typical hobby of a sick high school girl. Dimensional manipulation for architectural research."
Riku ignored the void around them, focused on the door. His eyes still held a glint of scientific curiosity.
"The door! How did it open itself? What's the mechanism?!"
Mari looking utterly unfazed by Riku's escalating panic, dabbed at her nose with a tissue.
"Oh, that? It's alive."
She said, her voice muffled slightly by her stuffy nose.
Riku froze. His eyes seemed to expand further.
"A... alive?"
Mari nodded, a casual shrug of her shoulders.
"Yeah. It helps with security. It can tell who's knocking. And it opens when it senses people it likes. It really likes you guys, by the way."
...
After a few more minutes of awkward conversation, mostly Mari reassuring them she was okay, Riku and Yuria made their excuses and left, disappearing back through the shimmering portal.
Tetsuya however, stayed behind.
"I'll make you some porridge. You need something warm."
He declared, already moving towards what he assumed was the kitchen area.
He pushed open a door, expecting a standard kitchen. Instead, he stepped into a space that perfectly matched the "Gothic architecture" Mari had mentioned. The kitchen was spacious, with high ceilings that disappeared into gloom. The walls were made of dark polished stone, intricately carved with gargoyles and weird symbols.
All the appliances were there — a gleaming induction stovetop, a large refrigerator, a sink. But they too were Gothic. The fridge was a massive dark wood monolith, with heavy iron hinges and a handle shaped like a grinning demon. The stovetop was built into a slab of what looked like polished obsidian. The pots and pans hung from wrought-iron hooks, looking more like medieval torture implements than cooking utensils.
Tetsuya stared at the scene, a slow, bewildered blink.
"Alright."
He found a saucepan that looked less likely to be used for human sacrifice.
He placed the wrought-iron saucepan onto the obsidian stovetop, pressed the power button, expecting a gentle glow.
Instead, the stovetop's surface flared to life with an unholy green luminescence. The light pulsed from beneath the surface, tracing out the precise lines of an inverted pentagram in the center of the cooking area. The air around it vibrated with low thrum, like the distant chanting of a forgotten cult.
The heat coils beneath the pentagram began to glow, heating the pan with frightening efficiency.
Tetsuya stared at the satanic stovetop, a single bead of sweat trickling down his temple. He had to admit it was certainly efficient. And he was getting used to this kind of flair from Mari.
"No summoning rituals here. Just dinner."
The aroma of cooking porridge slowly filled the bizarre kitchen, a strangely comforting scent amidst the absurdity. Tetsuya however, was suddenly struck by an urgent biological need.
He located what he assumed was the bathroom door and pushed it open.
The toilet bowl was a swirling vortex of inky blackness, a churning void that seemed to hum with silent pull. It offered no reflection, no depth, just a hungry bottomless expanse. It looked less like a toilet and more like a portal to instant spiritual annihilation.
The toilet paper was held by a meticulously carved statue of a Weeping Angel, its face buried in its hands, its wings folded tight. A intricately detailed sword was impaled through its head, serving as the spindle for the roll.
He went about his business, doing what a human had to do, even in the presence of existential dread. He had porridge to make.
He moved to the sink. The faucet was a terrifyingly realistic stone carving of a human head. Water, clear and cold, cascaded unsettlingly from its two hollow eye sockets.
Tetsuya returned to the kitchen. He poured the steaming porridge into a simple ceramic bowl he found on a shelf. The contrast between the mundane food and the demonic surroundings was almost comical.
He carried the bowl back into Mari's room. Mari was propped up against her pillows, looking slightly more alert.
"Here. It's a bit... spicy. I couldn't find plain salt."
He said, holding out the bowl.
Mari took a tentative spoonful. Her eyes widened slightly, then she offered an appreciative smile.
"It's good, Tetsu. Thank you."
He sat on the edge of her bed, watching her eat. His gaze drifted around the room. The bed itself was a colossal, four-poster affair carved from dark wood, draped with heavy velvet curtains that seemed to absorb the light. It looked like a sarcophagus designed for a slumbering dark lord. And yet — nestled amongst the terrifying pillows were a dozen capybara plushies.
A small, reluctant smile tugged at his lips.
"You know..."
He said, shaking his head slightly.
"You are the most creatively unhinged person I have ever met."
Mari looked up, a faint blush creeping onto her pale cheeks. She coughed into a tissue.
"Is that a compliment, Tetsu?"
"Absolutely. Even if your taste makes me question my own sanity."
He confirmed, a genuine warmth in his voice.