Chapter One: Crimson Twilight
4
This is... Shibuya.
The very Shibuya famous worldwide for its trends, crowds, massive advertising screens, and the iconic Omotesando Crossing.
Zhao Yan had been here once before, during an international exchange organized by the fire department three years ago. He remembered that intersection, teeming with people like a tidal wave, young men and women dressed in bizarre outfits, a giant 3D Akita dog billboard bouncing mid-air, and the bronze statue of Hachiko the loyal dog forever surrounded by tourists snapping photos.
Now, all that remained.
Yet everything felt different.
The 3D Akita dog still bounced on the screen, but with each leap, it shed pixels like fur, revealing jiggly flesh beneath that made your skin crawl. The Hachiko statue stood in its old spot, but the bronze Akita's eye sockets now burned with two eerie, greenish-blue flames, like ghostly fires.
And those "people"...
Zhao Yan's fingers dug into the rusted railings, knuckles turning white.
They weren't human at all.
A creature with a massive frog head, clad in an ill-fitting black suit, struggled to pedal a shared bicycle with webbed feet. Its wheels ground through the damp pavement, leaving sticky green trails as a fishy stench wafted over.
Beside it, a rather pretty girl in a sailor uniform and black stockings was adjusting her hair in a shop window. But in the glass's reflection, the back of her head split open like a zipper being pulled down, revealing a dense swarm of spinning compound eyes inside.
A tall, thin man in a long trench coat hurried past. Beneath the hem, instead of legs, two coiled, writhing, scaly snake tails emerged, leaving slick trails on the ground.
Further away, an elderly woman in a kimono stood with her back to him, her shoulders jerking. Zhao Yan watched as she slowly turned—she had no face, her entire visage a mirror reflecting his own pallid face.
The air was filled with chaotic sounds.
Low, guttural hisses, as if forced from the depths of throats. Shrill, maniacal laughter, as jarring as nails scraping a chalkboard. And the crunching sounds of chewing, echoing from deep within an alley, accompanied by the steady drip-drip of liquid.
Zhao Yan slowly, slowly released the railing and stood up straight. The old wound on his back ached, but that pain was now overshadowed by a sharper fear. He took a deep breath—the air carried the scent of blood.
Stay calm, Zhao Yan. You're a firefighter.
he told himself silently. You've handled chemical plant leaks, dug through earthquake rubble, charged into fires that could explode at any moment. Stay calm, observe, analyze.
First step: figure out where you are.
He stood at the northeast corner of the intersection, the exit of Shibuya Station. The time was... night. Above him stretched a dark purple sky, devoid of even a single star or moon. Neon lights flickered, but every sign was shrouded in an eerie green halo.Most shops were open, yet no staff were inside. The shelves held no merchandise—squinting, he saw the nearest drugstore displayed rows of eyeballs preserved in formaldehyde, their pupils all staring straight out the window.
Step two: check his condition.
His body felt intact—arms and legs moved freely. He still wore his plain clothes, shoulder bag slung over his shoulder. He felt his pockets—phone gone, wallet gone, keys gone. Only the unopened can of Red Bull in his side pocket remained, sitting there untouched.
Step three: Find...
"Aaah—!!!"
A scream erupted from the center of the intersection.
Zhao Yan snapped his head up.