The night was painted in the color of forgotten dreams — pale and uncertain.When Riku opened the black envelope, thin mist spilled out, as if the paper itself breathed. His heart stumbled for a single beat before curiosity brushed the fear aside. The letter inside was stark, cold, and elegant, written in calligraphy like that of a shrine's prayer scroll:"You have been chosen to participate in The Game of Dead. Win, and your wish shall come true. Lose, and your name will fade from the world.""Probably some prank event," he said, showing it to his friends.Beside him, Ayane twirled her hair. "Sounds like a real-life horror attraction. Let's do it."
Kenta laughed, too loud to hide his unease. "Yeah, what's the worst that could happen?"
Only Mei stayed silent — her eyes fixed on the mist curling at the envelope's edge.They met again the next night. The journey led them to a mountain road no navigation app could trace. The air thickened. When their car stopped, the fog swallowed the headligh
At the top of the hill stood a mansion of forgotten architecture — wooden eaves bent under age, paper lamps flickering faintly like dying souls. A torii gate leaned crookedly before it, engraved with a symbol no one recognized."It's like something from an old ritual," Mei whispered.The gate opened by itself.A voice — soft, genderless, and ancient — drifted through the fog.
"Players, welcome. Once entered, none may leave until the Game concludes."Kenta smirked. "Nice voice filter. Someone really went all out."But when the gate slammed shut behind them, the sound echoed like the closing of a coffin.The entry hall was drenched in dim candlelight. The air smelled faintly of incense and iron — perhaps blood. On the tatami floor lay a strange board carved with kanji.
In the center floated a dice made of bone, trembling as if alive.Riku hesitated, but curiosity pushed his hand forward. He rolled.The bone whispered as it fell — not a clatter, but a sigh. It showed the number 六.A painted fusuma
slid open silently. A staircase descended into darkness, and the candles bowed toward it, their flames bending low like servants greeting a master.A voice purred from the dark:
"Level One… The Hall of Mirrors."They stepped down and entered a corridor lined with ancient mirrors.Their reflections moved slower than they did. One by one, the glass fogged from the inside, until the reflections smiled with eyes that weren't theirs."The exit is impossible unless one vanishes," said the next message, glowing on a hanging scroll.Riku turned. "It's just a riddle. There's always a trick."Before anyone could think, Kenta brushed against one mirror. His reflection reached out — pale fingers with nails like obsidian — and dragged him inside.Silence. The mirror rippled once, then cleared. Kenta was gone.The scroll's ink bled itself into red, forming new words:
"Four remain."The next world was a bamboo grove — moonlight unnaturally silver, shadows swaying. Whispering voices floated with the wind, repe
floated with the wind, repeating things they never told anyone."You pushed her into the water."
"You lied that night."
"Pretender. Murderer."Riku clutched his ears, screaming, but the whispers slid inside his mind, cold as needles. He ran blindly — and when the hush came, only the other three stood. His phone buzzed weakly in the soil nearby, its flashlight still on."Three… remain."Ayane trembled. "We can't keep playing."The voice replied before Riku could speak:
"To stop is to fail. To fail… is to forget existence itself."A faint cry echoed through the roof beams, like a woman reciting a prayer in reverse.The Banquet Chamber was next. A long table stretched endlessly, filled with golden plates and fragrant food that shimmered between delicacies and rot. A placard read:
"Partake only of truth. To eat a lie is to be rewritten."Ayane's restraint broke. "It's fake! Just illusions!"
She bit into a glistening peach — and screamed without sound. Her body stiffened into a porcelain doll,
smile carved in place. The others' food melted into ash."Two… remain."Finally came the last room: a shrine hall, lit only by blue fire. The bone dice now rested on an altar before them, cracked, breathing."The final test," the voice murmured. "One must become the host, that the Game may live."Riku turned to Mei, his voice breaking. "We can find another way!""No," she whispered. "It already chose you."Before he could answer, the dice rolled on its own. The sound echoed like a thousand whispers of dead souls.The flame burst upward. When it faded, only Mei stood, trembling, as the sliding doors opened to the cold dawn.Outside, the fog thinned. She looked back once — the mansion's shape was already gone.Two weeks later, black envelopes began appearing again in neighboring towns.Each was sealed with a symbol drawn in dried, crimson ink.
Each bore the same sender name, written elegantly at the bottom corner —"Mei Aisaka."