Voice after voice rang out to Takumi's left and right.
Even though the surroundings were still shrouded in darkness, and he still could not see a thing, Takumi felt as though he could see one rescuer after another standing in the surging filthy water, shouting as they moved into action.
No—he could truly see them…
A sudden sting came from his left wrist, where he wore his watch.
Meanwhile, the badge pinned to his chest seemed to grow warm, releasing a faint current of warmth.
Then came visions—illusory at first—flickering into view, gradually shifting from blurred to clear.
Takumi saw faces.
Every one of them was young—hot-blooded youths in their twenties.
[The flood peak came early! The Shirakawa Apartments haven't been fully evacuated yet! We're the nearest rescue team—anyone still able to move, come with me!]
[Roger that, Captain! Let's go! Teams 1, 2, and 3, move out! Follow the plan by floors 1, 2, and 3! Quick!]
[Copy that! Everyone, check your equipment once more! Move fast! We must complete the Shirakawa Apartments evacuation before the flood surge arrives!]
One after another, figures waded through the murky current, rushing into an old apartment building.
Door after door was knocked open; person after person was escorted to safety.
Takumi realized he had somehow become one of those rescuers—or rather, that he was seeing everything through the eyes of the person to whom this badge had once belonged, witnessing something that had happened who knew how many years ago.
[Come on, old sir, I'll carry you—careful now, we're almost out!]
[Little one, don't be scared—we're here. There's a rescue boat waiting outside. You'll be fine.]
[Move, move, move! Put on your life jackets! Don't be afraid—we're right behind you!]
The water pouring in from the main entrance kept surging, nearly sweeping people off their feet.
Yet those figures kept darting through the flood, ferrying the residents who hadn't evacuated in time out of the building.
And at that moment, Takumi saw the figure standing at the very front of the team, reaching a hand toward an old man with limited mobility.
[Here, give me your hand.]
[I'll take you out.]
As that figure spoke, he hoisted the old man onto his back and turned around to move—allowing Takumi to see his face clearly.
The man's voice, too, was now distinct enough to recognize.
Kyosei?!
Even though the voice had changed somewhat—sounding younger, livelier—and the one he'd heard in the clock illusion had been slightly distorted, Takumi still recognized it instantly. The young man's voice was exactly the same as Kyosei's.
How could that be? Could it be that Kyosei was the captain of the rescue team that had once handled the Shirakawa Apartments' evacuation? Could it be that this man was a witness—a witness to the critical moment when the Shirakawa Apartments turned into an anomaly?
[Thud!]
Takumi's thoughts were forcibly cut off the next instant.
Because the door to Room 109 suddenly burst open with a loud bang.
Then, a force pushed him hard from behind, catching him completely off guard and shoving him forward—sending his whole body stumbling into the corridor inside Room 109.
[Click——]
In the crisp sound of the lock snapping shut the next moment, the door to 109 had already closed automatically.
Only Takumi climbed up from the floor, standing under the light of the incandescent lamp above his head and looking at the dry, dilapidated corridor before him.
This place seemed no longer the same as the damp, waterlogged first floor from just now.
Takumi's cautious gaze slowly swept across the corridor ahead.
He noticed that the floor here had no puddles at all—there wasn't even much dust. It looked as if it had been cleaned regularly.
Although cracks could be seen on the walls, there were likewise no cobwebs or plaster dust.
He raised his head and looked at the hanging lamp illuminating the corridor.
The bright, pale-yellow light brought a faint warmth, and the new bulb bore no trace of any stain.
He took a step forward, passed through the corner of the corridor, and then saw an album placed on the cabinet in the corner.
Opening the album, he found one photograph after another of a child—blond hair, blue eyes, as adorable as a doll, and appearing very lively.
A tall, blond man often appeared in the photos. Sometimes he held the child up high and laughed heartily, sometimes he walked beside the child, watching her with gentle eyes. And at the very end of the album was a photo of a sleeping baby, beside which was an English inscription that read, "You are my whole world."
Sanchez and his child?
He had been trapped here back when this apartment could still interact with the outside world—when those drawn in as residents could still go out. If the exit of this apartment was located within Japan, didn't that mean he would have to take a plane just to meet his daughter? No, even just settling the entry and exit documents would already be a massive hassle. In such a case, how could he possibly give a reasonable explanation to the local authorities about his sudden reappearance?
In other words, it was almost impossible for him to ever see his daughter again, wasn't it?
Realizing this, Takumi could somewhat understand why he had risked everything to test Room 304, as well as why there had been those who supported Sanchez and helped him carry out those prohibited acts.
But discussing things that had already happened was meaningless now.
Anyway, it would be best to keep going forward and see what secret Room 109 was hiding.
With that thought, Takumi subconsciously reached toward his waist—but felt nothing. Then, suddenly realizing the problem, he looked down and found that the rope that had been tied around his waist was gone.
The rope broke?! No—it had completely vanished.
If the rope had only snapped, the section tied around his waist should still have been there. Yet the reality was that there wasn't even the slightest trace of anything having been tied to him. Not only that—his shoes and pants, which should have been completely soaked, were now perfectly dry. Only the chest badge still hung on his body, still existing upon him, and the black watch on his left wrist remained there as well. Aside from those, everything on him was exactly the same as when he had first woken up inside the apartment.
Takumi realized something.
He took a step forward, passed through the corridor, and arrived before the living room door.
Beside the living room door—at the very end of the corridor—there was a wall clock placed there, identical in style to the one on the second floor. The difference was that this clock's hands did not move, completely frozen in place, as if time itself had come to a halt.
Takumi leaned in close to the wall clock.
He had no intention of moving its hands.
He merely stared at his own reflection in the slightly polished metallic surface of the clock.
That shattered face—the one crushed through the middle by the truck.
After entering this room, had his identity changed from that of a living person to a corpse?
In other words, just like in that dreamlike scene he had seen before, was this time as well a remnant shadow from some moment in the past?
After confirming this, Takumi turned around without a hint of hesitation, twisted open the living room door, and stepped straight inside.
The next moment, what entered his sight were numerous photographs hanging midair, all strung together by a single rope, along with clipped newspaper fragments and slips of paper bearing various writings.
The walls were densely covered with pasted documents of all kinds; thick books and files were stacked on the table, and torn sheets of paper lay scattered across the floor. On one side of the room stood an old desktop computer, while the smell of ink had gathered throughout the space—still vivid and unmistakable even now.
Takumi reached out and took a small paper clipping from one of the books.
[The Number One of Japan's Ten Greatest Horror Stories—The Mysteriously Vanished Old Apartment!]
[The forever unfindable mysterious apartment—its residents said to be haunted by a curse, unable to escape even through death.]
It seemed like the kind of rumor collected from supernatural story anthologies.
Without hesitation, Takumi took another clipped newspaper fragment.
[Disappearing Apartment? Rescue Team's Strange Vanishing—What Is the Truth?]
[All questioned individuals claim to remember nothing about the incident—just a case of mass hysteria?]
Looking at these slips of paper one after another, he walked up to the wall, then fixed his gaze upon the many documents hanging there, carefully taking in every piece of information and memorizing them.
Some of these materials were various official documents, while others were handwritten notes of thoughts and investigative records.
Without a doubt, all of this had been done by that man named Sanchez. During his time staying in Room 109, the man had been exhausting every possible means to gather information about Shirakawa Apartments from all available channels, preparing for his final action.
[Reporter investigating street house numbers discovers a mysteriously missing unnamed building. The official in charge claims it was merely a data error.]
[Inquiries made to the residents of Clear Spring Apartments yielded nothing. They remember experiencing the great flood disaster but completely fail to recall any place called Shirakawa Apartments across from them. No one remembers that place anymore.]
[New commercial street completed—our city's new district soon to welcome large-scale business settlement!]
[The once suburban outskirts have long become a bustling urban area, yet the vacant lot of Shirakawa Apartments' former site remains undeveloped. Even though the surroundings have all turned into a lively shopping district, it stays the same. Why does everyone instinctively avoid developing that piece of land?]
[City Rescue Team reorganization nearly complete—we will spare no effort to protect the safety of all citizens.]
[Infiltrated the Rescue Team archives—found no records of the team assigned to Shirakawa Apartments. Were their files erased? Or did they all die, and thus everything about them was devoured by the apartment, leaving them beyond the memory of anyone alive?]
[Residents trapped inside the apartment, while still alive, can temporarily leave to meet those they know. But apart from intimate family and very close friends, other acquaintances—ordinary friends, superiors, and colleagues—will grow indifferent toward them and gradually forget everything related to them.]
[But as long as this person is still alive, traces of his existence can still be found in the real world, and things related to him can be looked up.]
[Kyosei… if you truly are still alive, why can no information related to you be found? Why would you be hiding a Rescue Team uniform in the wardrobe? Just how much are you keeping from us? Are you really acting for everyone's good—are you helping us?]
[Shirakawa Apartments' numbering is still there; this apartment's information has not been completely erased. There should still be something to find—perhaps I should change my approach.]
[Infiltrated the City Police Department and found the check-in registry for Shirakawa Apartments from back then. The occupant information for Room 304 has been damaged and cannot be restored; only the check-in date can be found.]
[The follow-up investigation of all residents who checked in at Shirakawa Apartments has been completed. No surviving residents were found. All residents who checked in during the same period as the Room 304 occupant or later have all died, and all died within 1 year after the flood disaster. The relevant family members possess no valuable information.]
[Perhaps this line of thought is wrong. If the Police Department was able to preserve some documents, might there be other things to find?]
[Investigated the Police Department's old archives and found a record of a mediation of a dispute between the residents of 304 and 309. The original mediation document has been lost; only inferences can be made from the report information—suspected family conflict—but no further useful information can be found.]
[Why would it be 309?]
[Discovered that the resident information of 309 had changed once—there was a relocation not recorded in the archives. The information of the original resident could not be found.]
[Further investigation of the mediation record produced a new result: an audio recording of the mediation at the time was preserved, stored on a cassette tape. I obtained the tape. Now I need to get a tape player—this thing has long been out of production; I don't know where I can buy one.]
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