The silence after Mika's execution was unbearable.
Her body still twitched once before going still, the pool of blood beneath her growing wider across the tiles. On the altar, where every candle still burned, one space stood empty—Mika's flame gone for good.
No one said a word at first. They just stared at that gap, as if the absence itself was louder than her screaming had ever been.
"Did you hear that?" Sayaka's voice cracked through the quiet, brittle and sharp.
Everyone froze.
"It was… Mika…" Yume whispered. Her eyes were wide, wet, fixed on the empty slot at the altar. "I swear it was her voice…"
"That's impossible," Tsubasa muttered, but his jaw was tight. His eyes kept flicking upward, toward the ceiling. "Her flame's out. We saw it die. She's gone."
Ayaka hugged herself, shaking her head. "Then why… why I hear her too?"
The mansion seemed to answer.
From the ceiling above came a long, dragging sound—wet, heavy footsteps pacing across the beams. Dust rained down, settling on their shoulders, trembling in their candlelight.
Yume whimpered, curling inward. "She's walking… she's still walking above us…"
Sayaka jerked her candle up like a weapon, the flame casting jagged shadows across the wall. That was when they saw it—something stretched wrong across the wallpaper. A shadow that didn't belong to any of them. The body was there. The arms twitched. But the head was missing.
Yume screamed, stumbling back so hard her knees hit the floor.
"Shut up!" Sayaka snapped, though her own voice shook.
From the back, Reina laughed softly. The sound was too calm, too smooth. "Or maybe Mika wasn't finished. Maybe that was just her first act."
Ayaka rounded on her, eyes blazing despite the fear in them. "Stop it! This isn't a play, Reina! This isn't a stage! This is Real! "
Reina tilted her head, smile never faltering. "Isn't it? Look around. An altar. An audience we can't see. Flames waiting their turn. Death is the script, Ayaka. And we're all reading our lines."
Sayaka lunged at her, but Ayaka caught her arm, shouting, "Stop! That's exactly what Grimm wants!"
The altar flames guttered violently then, as if reacting to their voices. All of them bent low—except one.
Toru's.
His flame didn't shake, didn't bend. It burned pale and steady, brighter than the rest.
Sayaka's face twisted in disgust. "Look at it. His flame never flickers. Never fades. Why?!"
Tsubasa stepped toward the altar, fists clenched. "The rules are obvious. A flame doesn't die by accident. It only goes out when Grimm says so. So why is yours different, Toru?"
Toru's throat tightened, heat rising behind his eyes. "I don't know!" His voice cracked. "If I could change it, I would!"
Sayaka's laugh was cold and sharp. "That's what a liar would say."
Yume pushed forward, her candlelight trembling as much as she was. "No! He saved me! He saved all of us! Stop blaming him!"
Reina chuckled again, her tone light but dripping poison. "One flame that refuses to follow the rules. A spotlight built into the altar itself. Oh, the mansion must be thrilled."
Before anyone could answer, the shadows on the walls stretched unnaturally long. One peeled itself free. Headless. Arms jerking like a puppet on strings.
"…vote… faster…"
The voice came with it, broken, fragile, and unmistakable.
Mika's.
Ayaka gasped. Yume collapsed into sobs. Sayaka cursed, raising her candle high as if she could burn the shadow away.
A chandelier burst above her. Glass rained down. Sayaka cried out, her candle rolling across the tiles—
—but before it could snuff out, the altar flared, catching it, keeping it steady.
Every head turned at once.
Toru's pale flame had leapt first, feeding the dying one back to life.
Sayaka scrambled back, blood running down her arm from the glass cuts. Her eyes were wide, wild. "See?! He feeds them! He's not one of us—he's something else!"
The words struck harder than the glass. The others' stares dug into him, suspicion heavy, suffocating.
Yume clutched his arm desperately, crying, "No! He's not—stop saying that!"
But no one spoke in her defense.
The air thickened, tasting of copper. The altar flames shivered together, weak and fragile—except Toru's, which burned whiter, harsher, too steady.
Then came the groan.
The double doors at the far end of the foyer creaked open.
A corridor stretched beyond, slick with blood, its walls dripping red. At the end stood a door carved with melting candles and skulls, faintly pulsing like a heartbeat.
"No…" Ayaka whispered. "Not again…"
Reina's smile widened, faint but certain. "The house is hungry."
Grimm's voice spilled from the walls, velvet and cruel.
"Ahhh… the altar burns so beautifully. Every life lined in a row, trembling, waiting. But…" His chuckle rang sharp. "…not every flame obeys, does it?"
The corridor pulsed, dripping in rhythm. The door at its end groaned like lungs drawing breath.
"Step forward, students," Grimm purred. "The house grows impatient. And your next lesson waits."
The doors yawned wider, cold air rushing in, thick with the stench of iron and rot.
The altar flames steadied again, shivering—except Toru's. His glowed defiant, too bright, throwing long, unnatural shadows across their faces.