"...Itsuki?"
Genkei's voice cut through the silence.
I blinked. Or—no. My body blinked. I wasn't in
it.
From somewhere distant, I saw myself slumped on the cracked tile floor, mouth slack, drool sliding down my chin. My hands twitched uselessly against the cloak now wrapped around me like a lover.
"Uhh…" Saiko crouched down and poked my cheek. "Is he… dead? Possessed? Dead-possessed?"
Genkei's jaw tightened, hand on his blade. "He's breathing. But something's wrong. I can't cut that cloak without cutting him too."
"Wow. You mean you can't solve this with sword therapy? Miracles do happen," Saiko said, smirking nervously.
Meanwhile—
The dreamscape stretched around me, endless and wet, like a bathroom that had drowned itself. Mirrors flickered with faces that weren't mine.
And she stood in the middle of it. Aka Manto.
Her voice was the echo of every stall door creaking at once. "You… called me. Without words. Without grave. Without weight."
"I didn't call you!" I snapped, though my voice sounded small in the dripping dark. "I—I don't even know how this is happening!"
Her head tilted, the red cloak dragging across the tiles. "Neither do I. I have always asked. Always offered. Red or blue. Never… been taken."
I swallowed hard. "So… what does that make me?"
Her porcelain face cracked in a smile that wasn't a smile. "Choice. You are choice. But a choice without cost breaks its own rules. And rules do not like to break."
"That… makes zero sense," I muttered, but her words still chilled me.
The stalls all slammed shut at once. The mirrors fractured into water. And then—
I snapped back.
Drool. Everywhere.
"UGH—what—wait—" I sat up, choking, my head pounding like I'd swallowed lightning.
"Finally," Saiko sighed, hands on her hips. "We were about to draw a mustache on you."
Genkei's eyes narrowed. "Your aura feels… different."
I followed his gaze—and froze.
In my hand, I was gripping a knife. Not mine. A kitchen knife, stained with rust that never rusted. And over my shoulders—her crimson cloak.
"What the hell—?!" I nearly dropped the blade. The cloak coiled around me like a snake.
And then—illusions flickered across the hallway. Ten of me. Twenty. Mirrors where walls should be.
Genkei and Saiko just stared.
Saiko finally muttered: "...Did you just unlock DLC?"
"I—I think I just—" My voice cracked. "I think I just… bound Aka Manto. But she's not a grave. She's a spirit. And—and I didn't sacrifice anything."
Genkei's brows furrowed. "That shouldn't be possible."
Saiko pointed at me, cackling. "So you're telling me—while I'm out here busting my knuckles on ghost jaws, you're just picking up haunted fashion accessories for free?"
"This isn't funny!" I barked, clutching the knife. "I don't even know what this means!"
When we finally stumbled back outside, Arata was still leaning against the wall, hands laced behind his head like he'd been sunbathing instead of babysitting.
"Yo. Took you long enough," he said, grinning. "You beat her?"
"Define beat," Saiko said flatly.
Arata tilted his head. Then he noticed me. Knife. Cloak.
His grin faltered. "...Well, that's new."
Miu adjusted her glasses, her voice quiet. "You didn't take a grave. You didn't bleed, bargain, or burn. Yet you returned with a thread."
I exhaled sharply. "So what the hell does that mean?"
Miu's eyes glinted. "It means you broke the rule of sacrifice. You are walking where there is no bridge."
Arata whistled low.
"…And is that supposed to be good news?" I asked.
Arata grinned again, though it didn't reach his eyes this time. "Guess we'll find out."