The sound of laughter and chatter echoed through the corridors.
Students with fully defined faces—no longer blurred—moved about freely. Girls carrying water bottles giggled as they ran past, while boys argued passionately over which manga character was stronger.
But something was deeply unsettling.
These students looked and sounded exactly like people from the players' pasts.
For Kumami, it was a shock. Years had passed since high school, yet the dungeon had perfectly reconstructed classmates she'd long forgotten. If not for Katabuta's quick intervention—using an Obsession Artifact to stabilize her mind—and the three mental fragments Takakai had preemptively embedded in her, she might have succumbed completely to the dungeon's cognitive erosion.
Even so, the distortion was relentless.
From the moment they'd entered Yoruyama Academy, an invisible force had been rewriting their perceptions, reinforcing the idea:
You are a student here.
So far, everyone had resisted. But how long could they hold out?
And now, the dungeon was weaponizing their memories, using familiar faces and voices to deepen the illusion.
No wonder this dungeon has no time limit.
It doesn't need one.
It's grinding us down, bit by bit.
Takakai's footsteps echoed as he climbed the stairs, the fluorescent lights above casting a sterile glow.
One oddity stood out:
The ceilings were covered in cobwebs.
Every classroom, every hallway—spotless except for the dense spider silk clinging to the ceiling.
Did the cleaning crews just… forget?
Or is this a warning?
The fourth floor had been quiet, but the fifth floor was dead silent.
No distant chatter. No footsteps.
Just an oppressive, unnatural stillness.
"Up ahead is the rooftop access," Takakai murmured.
Chika peered down the empty hallway. "It's so… empty."
Hayasaka crouched, inspecting the floor. "No dust. No footprints. We might be the first ones here today."
Miko frowned. "I can't even hear the students below anymore."
It was as if the moment they stepped onto this floor, the school had emptied.
Room by room, they checked the club placards:
Literature Club
Science Club
Calligraphy Club
But no Living Club.
7 minutes passed.
9:47 AM.
Nothing.
"Anything?" Takakai asked as they regrouped at the stairwell.
Three heads shook in unison.
Dead end.
Just as he turned to leave, Miko gasped softly.
A dirty, crumpled poster lay on the ground near the stairs.
Chika and Hayasaka walked past it without a glance.
They can't see it.
Takakai knelt to "tie his shoe," palming the poster in one smooth motion.
Unfolded, it read:
[Ghost Story Club Now Recruiting! Join Us~ ?]