Chapter 1

(0/23) Yuki awoke on an unfamiliar bed. (1/23) The mattress seemed large enough to fit at least five people. It was a luxurious canopy bed equipped with curtains on all sides, the kind on which a sheltered princess would rest her weary body and the kind that no commoner would ever encounter during their lifetime. And Yuki found the bed unfamiliar. As such, it was safe to say that she did not belong to the upper echelons of society. She sat up, fully roused from her slumber. No blanket was covering her; rather, she had been sleeping on top of one. Her body was positioned diagonally across the bed, her head far removed from a pillow. Under these circumstances, “sleeping” was perhaps not an apt description of the situation. It would be more accurate to say she had been merely “lying down”—or to put it more harshly, that she had been “tossed” onto the bed. Unsurprisingly, the clothes adorning Yuki’s body were not pajamas. To put it in the simplest of terms, she was wearing a maid outfit. “…Urgh…” A groan escaped Yuki’s lips as she glanced down at her attire. A maid outfit. The kind with a characteristically charming contrast of black and white. The kind that had long passed its heyday of popularity yet still enjoyed its share of devoted enthusiasts nationwide. Should that description be deemed insufficient, the following details should satisfy the demands of the people: It was a costume that featured a frilly apron over a dress. Maid outfits typically came with one of two styles of skirts, either extremely long or extremely short, and Yuki’s was the former. This was dubbed the “classical” style. Yuki got off the mattress, looking quite classical as she did so. She was in a luxurious room, one that mirrored the character of the bed. Much to her chagrin, Yuki found herself unable to express the luxuriousness of the room in sophisticated terms on account of her poor upbringing. But if she were to push the limits of her vocabulary, she would describe the room as having an air of elegance. The lofty ceiling stretched so high up that it was difficult to imagine how anyone would even begin to clean it. As if inversely proportional to its ridiculously spacious dimensions, the room hardly contained any pieces of furniture. However, the few pieces that were there gave off a mighty aura, like that of a queen in chess. That last comparison had sprung to mind due to the black-and-white checkered floor, which reminded Yuki of a chessboard. But the floor was not the only thing in her vicinity devoid of color. The interior of the room featured an entirely monochrome design, from the lofty ceiling and the four walls to the bed and other furnishings, extending even to the classical maid outfit Yuki had on. The sole visible exception was the color of Yuki’s skin, but even she was rather pale in complexion. That was the sort of room she had found herself in, and not one inch of it was familiar. She had been “sleeping” on the bed, so she must have rested her body on it at some point in the past. Yet she had no recollection of doing so. Not only could she not remember lying down on the mattress, but she also had no memory of entering the room or of changing into a maid outfit. She had woken up in an unfamiliar place, wearing unfamiliar clothes, on an unfamiliar bed. What would people normally call this kind of situation? The bedroom had no windows, suggesting that it was either located underground or simply not adjoined to any external walls. But it did have a door. Yuki began walking toward it, and a short while later—for “a short while” was how long it took to reach the far edge of the room—she stood before it. After a quick inspection, she grabbed ahold of the doorknob. It turned without any resistance. The door swung open into the hallway. Yuki slowly peeked out and examined the surrounding area. Like the bedroom, the hallway was luxurious and entirely monochrome, and it extended as far as the eye could see. Yuki warily exited the chamber, leaving the door open behind her. She proceeded down the hallway, taking care to avoid making any noise. As if compensating for the lack of windows, the walls were lined with doors, each equidistant from one another. Several of them were wide open, similar to the way Yuki had left hers, and she had a fairly good idea of what that meant. Without there being any windows, the only way to glean information about her current circumstances would be to try one of the many doors, and Yuki had already resolved to open the largest one she came across. That was almost always the correct course of action, and in this case, the largest door loomed at the end of the hallway. Yuki advanced toward it with the vigilance of a soldier traversing a minefield. When she reached it, she turned the doorknob and stepped through. The next moment, she found herself in a dining room—one with five maids inside. (2/23) Keeping with the theme of the hallway and bedroom, the dining room was completely black and white. In the center of the room was a table, but it was by no means a modest piece of furniture. It was so large that it was impossible for a single person to carry, and it was surrounded by six chairs, three on each of the two long sides. The table was covered by a white tablecloth, on top of which rested a large plate of what appeared to be sweets. Considering all these elements, the space was clearly a dining room. Five of the six chairs were occupied—by five maids. They were all girls. While this may have been a premature conclusion, that was how they appeared to Yuki. She took a closer look at them and speculated that the eldest was around college age, while the youngest was a middle school student. The five were all somewhere on the spectrum of adolescence, the time of life during which they could be referred to as “girls.” Incidentally, according to a select group of enthusiasts, a maid is defined not by clothing but by personality. The beauty of a servant or attendant lay in their ability to remain calm, collected, and dignified in any situation, neatly resolving every problem with a cool head. By that definition, none of these five girls would be deemed suitable for the role. Not a single one of them exuded an air of sophistication. One was fidgeting, another was anxiously darting her eyes left and right, a third was leaning against the back of her chair and causing it to creak, and a fourth was hanging her head in tears. The fifth was rubbing the weeping girl’s back in an attempt to calm her nerves, but not even her expression could be described as one of composure. None of them were real maids. They were merely a group of girls dressed as maids. Naturally, their gazes shifted to the newly arrived sixth maid. With all eyes on her, Yuki walked over to the table, pulled out the empty chair, and sat down in a seat that seemed far too elegant for someone of her nature. “Hello,” she said. “My name is Yuki. Nice to meet you.” She was met with silence. After a lengthy pause, someone finally responded. “…Nice to meet you.” “I take it I’m the last to arrive?” “Seems that way.” Yuki trained her eyes on the girl who replied. “Were you all here from the very beginning?” “No, we woke up in different bedrooms and made our way here separately…” “Were you waiting long?” “Not really. Maybe ten, twenty minutes or so.” “Sorry about that. I tend to have trouble waking up, so I’m always late.” “…You seem calm. Unusually so.” The girl narrowed her eyes. “Despite waking up in a place like this.” “Oh, um… The thing is…” Yuki took a second to choose her words. “I’m not new to this. Though it seems to me like the rest of you are.” (3/23) Where to even begin to explain? Upon reflection, Yuki realized this was the first time she had ever had this opportunity. A fluttering sensation filled her chest, for a different reason than that of the other girls. “Right… Let me ask, does anyone here not know what’s going on? With a show of hands…how many of you have no clue as to why you’re here?” Yuki took the lead and threw her hand up in the air. Surely the others were aware of how to raise their hands, so she had done so not as a demonstration but as a way to make it psychologically easier for the others to mirror the action. Two hands went up after Yuki’s. “How many of you knew about these games but are participating for the first time?” Two of the remaining three girls raised their hands. The final girl opened her mouth to speak. “This is my second game, but you seem more experienced than me.” “You’re right. I do have experience,” Yuki replied. “…A lot of it, actually.” “Then the floor is all yours.” With the spotlight thrust upon her, Yuki scrambled to piece together the right words. “…First off, someone may have mentioned this already…but this building is dangerous. There could be traps set up anywhere.” The crying maid’s shoulders quivered. “By traps, I don’t mean anything like those pieces of gum that shock your fingers or those balloons that make farting noises when you sit on a chair. You should consider these traps to be deadly. Is anyone injured already?” “Nope.” “That’s a relief. From this point forth, please refrain from moving around more than necessary. Even the act of gathering like this in the dining room is risky for novice players. Thankfully, we all made it here in one piece.” “So what you’re saying is”—someone spoke up, as if irritated by Yuki’s poorly worded explanation—“we should treat this like an escape game?” “Precisely.” Yuki noticed she had begun speaking more formally than usual. Why was that? Perhaps it was human instinct to act more politely when addressing a large group of people, but regardless, she continued on in the same manner. “This is the sort of game where we have to find a way to exit the building while avoiding getting caught in death traps.” “Do we…have to escape?” another girl asked. “Yes,” Yuki responded. “Otherwise, we won’t be able to return to our normal lives, nor will we receive any prize money. There hasn’t been any indication of a time limit, so we can assume there to be none. However, since we have a finite supply of food and drinks, we should consider that our limit.” “Um… Excuse me!” cried out the teary maid. “Is this really happening to us?” “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but yes, it is.” “How can that be possible?!” The girl raised her voice. “Because… This just isn’t…” “I also have my doubts,” added the maid stroking the crying girl’s back. “I’m aware these are deadly games where you can make a quick fortune, but what exactly are they? A billionaire’s unspeakable secret pastime? Or something more along the lines of a business venture?” “I’m not certain of all the details myself,” Yuki replied, shaking her head. “What I do know is we’re constantly being recorded. An audience is watching our every move through surveillance cameras. This is only a hunch, but I think they place bets on which of us will survive, since…the prize money varies depending on the player.” “Who tends to receive more?” “Contestants with the cutest faces.” “…What a cruel world we live in.” A different kind of silence fell over the room. “I think each of you stands to win quite a lot if you survive,” Yuki added. She had hoped to lighten the mood, if even just a little, but her attempt fell flat. “We can’t see how the audience reacts, can we?” “Nope.” “No two-way interaction, huh? Guess that means no appealing for donations…” The maid fell silent, pondering something. “So this really is a thing…,” said another girl. “I’d heard plenty of rumors about this sort of thing before, but I never imagined they actually existed.” Yuki had shared the same feeling. Still, the idea of these games was by no means unrealistic. History was host to many forms of grisly entertainment. There was a period when executions by guillotine were treated as public spectacle. In another era, slaves were forced to fight against wild beasts to entertain their masters. And in modern times, ethics had fallen by the wayside, with the prevailing attitude in society being that dirty business practices were nothing more than a product of desperation. In conditions such as these, it wasn’t strange that something like death games had come along. Although the industry currently operated in the shadows of society, Yuki wondered if the games might end up going mainstream in another thirty or so years, but that was probably a little too far-fetched. She’d been in this profession a long time, so her perspective was likely biased. Regardless of what the future held, what existed in the present was real—these were genuine games in which people died. “It’s probably better not to ask,” the same girl continued, “but what’s the survival rate like?” “No, that’s a good question. While I can’t deny the existence of games where virtually all players get wiped out…it’s typically around seventy percent.” “That’s the average for all players, isn’t it?” The maid apparently participating in her second game butted in. “But what about for beginners? Yuki, how do you like our odds of survival for this game?” “……” The pointed question left Yuki floundering for a response. “It’s true that first-time players are less likely to survive. However—” Deciding it was time to quit being so distant, Yuki cleared her throat in an exaggerated manner. “But don’t sweat it,” she continued. “I take an altruistic stance in these games. I’ll do everything I can to ensure as many of us survive as possible.” (4/23) “Altruistic?” one of the girls parroted back. “In death games, players tend to adopt one of three attitudes toward one another…” Yuki paused, deciding instead to turn the lesson into a question. “Any idea what those might be?” “Manipulating other players for your own survival.” “Yep.” “Ignoring the other participants and trying to clear the game alone, while avoiding interaction as much as possible.” “Bingo.” “And the third… Helping everyone stay alive?” The girl in her second game cast a skeptical glance at Yuki. “But what does that accomplish? Sure, we’d love your help, but what’s in it for you?” “It maximizes my odds of survival in the long run. If I help you out here, you may feel more inclined to return the favor the next time we meet in a game.” “Next time? You don’t know how many of us will even have a next time.” “I don’t mind. As long as it doesn’t work against my own interests, I’d rather help people than abandon them.” Although that was what Yuki genuinely believed, her words failed to disarm the doubtful stares pointed in her direction. “Well, in any case,” she added, “it’s best you stay wary. I could be saying these things while having something far more sinister in mind. Maybe I only see you all as meat shields. I can’t control what you think, so judge me as you wish.” Yuki reached for the large plate on the table. A diverse array of sweets lay atop it, including chocolates, cookies, muffins, macarons, and other treats whose names escaped her knowledge. Like everything else, the individual sweets were either completely black or completely white, and though the color scheme hardly inspired much of an appetite, how could anyone resist the allure of sugar? Yuki ripped open a wrapper and bit into the dark-colored muffin inside. “Is that really okay to eat?” The other maids stared at Yuki in disbelief. “Yep. It’s pretty good,” she answered. “This isn’t one of those kinds of games, so the food we find generally won’t be poisoned. These snacks are here for us to stave off hunger. Sure, our lives are being toyed with, but surprisingly enough, there are some lines these games never cross.” Yuki took a look around and saw that none of the other girls had reached for the plate. It didn’t surprise her that they were suspicious. After all, they weren’t exactly in a situation where they could easily indulge in food, and in the context of a death game, seeing sweets would normally set off alarm bells in anyone’s head. After hearing Yuki’s words, one of the other maids slowly brought her hand to the plate. But just before grabbing something, she paused and turned to Yuki. “…This is exactly the kind of thing we should be wary about, right?” Yuki grinned. “Right. Who knows, maybe I secretly know how to tell which sweets are safe.” In truth, Yuki had no such knowledge. She had simply reached for a muffin because it looked scrumptious. Food and beverages set up in death games were a safe haven. Although it had never been officially announced that refreshments were safe to consume, it was practically an unwritten rule that they wouldn’t be tampered with. Even though death games represented a human rights violation of the highest order, they still adhered to standards of their own. If not for that consistency, the industry would have never found success, nor would it have attracted regular players like Yuki. Still, since the other five had no knowledge of that, they were unable to shed their caution in the face of the sweets. In other words, the stage was set for Yuki to monopolize the food. A smug grin spread across her face as she took another bite of her muffin when all of a sudden— —someone reached out from across the table and snatched the half-eaten pastry away. “Huh?” Yuki turned to the thief. It was the maid who’d almost reached for the plate a moment prior. “So this is what you’re suggesting we do,” the girl said. “Er, no, not exactly…” The girl offered no additional response and instead took the third bite of the muffin. “Ahhh…” Yuki groaned. After shaking it off, Yuki once again reached for the plate but immediately realized her blunder. This time, she couldn’t even rip open the wrapper before the hand of a different maid appeared from beside her. Their skin touched. The next moment, the white macaron was snatched away. The same thing happened three or so more times. Ultimately, the only thing Yuki came away with was the knowledge that none of the others participants’ bodies was as cold as hers. (5/23) “So, um… Why don’t we introduce ourselves?” Yuki suggested, after the swiping of sweets had come to an end. The others had been more famished than they let on, as they had continued to steal from Yuki and wolfed down the food. They had taken so much from her that, by the end, she had closed her eyes and begun guessing based off touch alone whose hand was doing the grabbing. At that point, Yuki realized she had yet to learn the others’ names, hence the proposal. “I’ll start,” she continued as five pairs of eyes trained on her. “My name’s Yuki, and this is my twenty-eighth game. Since I have the most experience here, I hope I can help everyone escape this building.” “You’ve played that many?” one of them asked. The others were probably thinking the same. “If this is your twenty-eighth game, you must be swimming in cash. Why are you still playing?” “Well… I don’t do it for the money.” Yuki felt somewhat embarrassed to explain. “I’m aiming to set a new record for consecutive games cleared. My goal is ninety-nine.” “Huh? A record…for these death games?” “Yeah… That’s right.” “Breaking the streak means you die, right?” “Yep.” “And the survival rate is seventy percent, yeah? So ninety-nine games means…” “Don’t start calculating the odds. It’s too scary to think about.” “Why in the world would you put yourself through that…?” “Because I’m cut out for it.” Having been posed the same question countless times before, Yuki responded almost immediately. “People tend to want to play to their strengths. For me, this is it.” The room fell to a hush. The gazes trained on Yuki regained the caution they had shed. Maybe it was a mistake to have explained. She might have been better off fabricating a justification for her choice of career. “So, um…” Yuki spoke, unwilling to let the silence linger. She gestured to the maid sitting directly across from her, the one who had first snatched the muffin out of her hand. “Can you go next?” “I’m Kinko.” The girl had distinctive blond pigtails, which appeared ever more dazzling against the monochrome backdrop of the room. Some girls had such frail, scrawny bodies that they would provoke worry in anyone who saw them, and Kinko was one such young lady. Her neck was so thin that it seemed as if it would snap with the lightest of touches, and her fingers were so slender that Yuki wondered if there were any bones in them to begin with. Her delicate build was evident even underneath her maid outfit, which was the embodiment of loose-fitting clothing. She had the smallest frame of the six girls in the room, and she appeared to be the youngest as well. But considering the girl’s comparatively serious facial expression and how she’d behaved earlier, Yuki deemed her capable of thinking and acting for herself. “This is my first game. I’m here to pay off a debt.” “Debt?” Yuki tilted her head to one side. The girl didn’t look like the kind of person to go into debt. “Never would’ve guessed.” “It’s not mine. It’s my father’s.” “…Aren’t you not liable for that as a child?” “Sure, but I figured it was necessary to pay back what was borrowed.” Yuki was at a loss for words. The girl across from her was that kind of person. Yuki was certainly in no position to judge, but anyone willing to risk their life in a death game for a paltry sum was off in one way or another. For some people, this showed a disregard for their own life, while for others, it reflected an inability to accurately assess costs and benefits. What made Kinko off was obvious: She was responsible to a fault. Kinko turned to her right. Next to her sat the maid who’d been crying this whole time. As if judging the girl to be in no condition to speak, she instead gestured to the maid sitting diagonally across the table from her. “Can you go next?” She had pointed to the maid playing in her second game. “The name’s Kokuto,” said the girl in a comparatively relaxed tone. “This is my second go-round as a player, but my first game was two years ago, so I’m practically a beginner. The reason I’m here is, well, let’s just say I need cash to cover living expenses.” Kokuto had a shady aura about her, like the kind that belonged to a tabloid gossip columnist who only ever wrote tasteless articles or a prison dealer who would smuggle in anything requested of her. It signaled that she was involved with the shadows of society. However, like the other maids, she had a rather attractive face, so behind the darkness emanating from her lay a hint of charm, as though she were a delinquent girl struggling to put on a tough act. Since these death games were a form of show business, the girls who were invited to participate were generally attractive. Accordingly, one of the few benefits of being a player was the opportunity to easily get close to gorgeous girls, but even so, there was no way of knowing how long those bonds would last. “If you’re only doing this for living expenses, does that mean you’re not in an urgent bind?” Kinko asked. “Not really, but not having money is like being in a bind. I’m not in any debt, though.” “Why not just work some normal job?” “Give me a break.” Kokuto shrugged. “Being a wage slave is essentially trading away your life for money. This option was far more appealing. Wouldn’t you agree, Yuki?” With the ball in her court, Yuki forced a smile. “I don’t know about that.” “Next,” Kokuto said, relinquishing her hold on the conversation. “Can you speak?” She pointed to the weeping maid. Crying was the natural human response to being forced to play a death game, but Yuki found the sight refreshing. In a certain sense, that girl, more than anyone else in the room, was savoring everything the game had to offer. In a high-pitched voice, the girl spoke up. “I’m Momono… I—I shouldn’t be here. I was tricked…” “Tricked?” “She says she didn’t sign up for this,” Kinko explained. “Apparently, someone offered her an easy, high-paying job, but when she followed them, she got knocked out and woke up here. Seems like she’s had it rough.” “Ah…” Yuki reacted. There wasn’t anything else for her to say. A small number of players were brought into these games through direct invitations—in other words, from being scouted. There was a myriad of reasons why the organizers would want to approach potential players: if a game lacked enough participants or if they came across an absolute stunner, for instance. Yuki was convinced that Momono had been scouted for the latter reason. The girl was, by all standards, an extraordinary specimen. First of all, her hair was pink. Her voice was so high, anyone would worry for her vocal cords. Although it was difficult to notice with how much she was crying, she was the prettiest of the six girls in the room. But above all else, her most salient feature was her voluptuous body. A maid outfit normally didn’t reveal the contours of its wearer’s physique, but that rule certainly didn’t apply to Momono. Maybe she had been stuffed in a costume one size smaller than appropriate, but every inch was bursting at the seams. And the biggest difference was that she was the only one wearing a miniskirt. After sizing the girl up, Yuki determined the most sensuous aspect of her body to be the thighs jutting out of her skirt. Perhaps as an act of caution, Momono had positioned her chair farther away from the table than anyone else, allowing Yuki to get a glimpse of the girl’s thighs from her seat. They were quite girthy and certainly appeared large enough to support the girl’s plump upper body. The portion of skin that was exposed between her frilly miniskirt and her white knee-high socks glistened brilliantly against the world of black and white. Yuki felt a genuine desire to touch them. In any case, every aspect of Momono seemed inviting. She had to be popular with guys. “I don’t care about the money as long as I can get home in one piece.” After saying that, Momono fell silent. Although she didn’t indicate someone to go after her, the maid sitting to her right—the one who had been rubbing Momono’s back—began to speak. “My name’s Beniya. I knew of these games beforehand, but this is my first time participating in one. I’m here for the same reason as Kinko—to pay off debts.” The girl had short scarlet-colored hair. Like the others, she also had an attractive face, but hers had a different type of appeal. To use a rather trite description, Beniya had a princely demeanor; she was the kind of girl who would be popular with other girls. She was about as tall as the average man, and her arms and legs were noticeably longer than those of the other maids. Her slender frame was the polar opposite of Momono’s. She had the most dominant aura out of everyone in the room, but in sharp contrast to her outward appearance, her expression indicated that she was being swept up in the game, suggesting a lack of mental fortitude. Perhaps she had resorted to stroking Momono’s back to maintain her composure by associating with someone who looked more anxious than she was. Beniya continued, “Although in my case, my liabilities are entirely of my own making.” Liabilities. There was something curious about her choice of terminology. “Do you run some sort of business?” Yuki asked. “You could say that. I incurred some costs along the way.” Her tone implied an unwillingness to delve into the specifics, so Yuki refrained from prying any deeper. Beniya encouraged the last maid—sitting directly across from her—to speak. “…oi.” The girl’s voice was barely audible. “Um, what was that?” Yuki prompted. “I’m Aoi.” The girl seemed to be doing her best to speak up, but even then, her voice remained soft. “This is my first-ever game.” She was the very picture of timidity, with shaggy blue hair and a nervous expression. She was clearly hunching forward, and her gaze was shifting rapidly between the table and the other maids. Yuki had no memory of the girl saying anything prior to this moment. It seemed she wasn’t one for conversation. “I’m here because…I, um, had no other choice.” Aoi neglected to explain any further, so the exact circumstances that brought her to the game remained a mystery, but Yuki surmised that the girl’s reasons were similar to her own. Aoi displayed a conspicuous lack of social skills, which meant she likely had to resort to playing death games to make any money. Eventually, she could very well end up walking the same path as Yuki as a player. After the introductions concluded, Yuki took another look around. To bring the topic to a close, she said, “Great. It’ll only be for a little while, but let’s get through this and try to clear the game with as many of us alive as possible.” Her remark was greeted by the other maids’ overlapping voices. “Let’s do this.” “Hoping for the best.” “I appreciate your help.” “So what exactly do we have to do?” asked Kokuto. “Well, this is an escape game,” Yuki answered. “It’s time we start exploring.” (6/23) Many people in the world have likely played an escape game that posed no danger to their lives. True to its name, an escape game was designed so that its end goal was for players to find a way out of a designated space. Yet, for some reason, the exit would always be locked; the key to the exit would be stored somewhere, like in a safe; and the combination to that safe would be hidden underneath a bed, behind a shelf, or in a corner close to the ceiling, forcing players to search every nook and cranny for clues and items. In addition to investigating the space, players would sometimes have to solve puzzles or riddles. In these death games, however, there were never any complicated problems to solve, at least in Yuki’s experience. After all, it was part of a show, a program meant for entertainment, and grueling puzzles were not a source of good drama. In most cases, the key would be left out in plain sight and unlock the exit without issue. However, players would typically run into the real problem around the key. For that reason, the girls couldn’t afford to let their guards down, but at the very least, finding what they needed would be a walk in the park. But the maids still had to conduct a search—and it was important not to forget they were inside a mansion of death. “For now, I’ll cover the most important points to keep in mind,” Yuki said to the other five girls after they had all left the dining room and entered the hallway. It was decided that the six of them would move around as a group. Since Yuki was the only person in the group with significant experience, the others technically had the option of sending her out of the dining room alone to finish the necessary exploration, locate any traps, and secure a guaranteed safe route to the exit before returning to escort everyone out. That would ensure the greatest safety, but the group opted not to go with it. Nobody had proposed they all go together; rather, it was simply an unspoken agreement. That was probably because everyone feared being left behind. If Yuki went on ahead and found the exit, there would be no guarantee she would return for the others. To eliminate the possibility of her escaping on her own, the obvious solution was to act as a group. Since they were inside a trap-riddled mansion, it would seem safer to remain in one location, but at the same time, the idea of sticking close to a death-game veteran also offered a sense of security. Between the two options, everyone elected to throw their support behind Yuki. “First and foremost, the key to survival is cowardice,” Yuki told them. “Don’t approach anything that seems even slightly fishy. Speak up as soon as you notice something off. There are people in this world who choose to call an ambulance when a taxi would suffice, and that’s exactly the kind of playstyle you should adopt. Ideally, you should be so cautious that you hesitate to take even a single step.” “Is that really a good idea?” It was the princely maid, Beniya, who posed the question. “Aren’t we being monitored? If we appear too reluctant to act, I fear the organizers will intervene…” “That won’t happen, at least to the best of my knowledge. I’ve been in games where everyone was so guarded that nothing happened for over a week, and games that we cleared without incident or injury because everyone cooperated, but the organizers never stepped in once. Players have full agency in deciding how they progress the game… At least, I think so.” There was no official information on that topic, so Yuki softened her tone. “In games like these, pessimism is your friend. You should constantly imagine the worst outcome of any situation. Be suspicious of anything and everything. Just having that mindset will significantly affect your chances of survival. Other than that… Right, since I’ll be the one securing the route forward, don’t stray too far from me.” “Will you really be able to figure out a safe escape route?” This time, the question came from the maid with blond pigtails, Kinko. “It comes with experience. And I’ve learned from many painful experiences.” “…Painful experiences…” A troubled expression formed on Kinko’s face, but she asked a follow-up question. “Does that mean getting caught in a trap won’t necessarily kill you?” Maybe Kinko wanted to take the opportunity to ask everything on her mind, or maybe she was following Yuki’s advice and being suspicious of anything and everything. Either way, the answer was the same. “That’s right. The audience won’t get much enjoyment from watching a player die in one fell swoop. Unless you’re extremely unlucky with how you get caught in a trap, or you’re up against a large-scale obstacle, odds are you won’t die instantly.” “What do you mean by ‘large-scale obstacle’?” “There are some traps you can’t avoid, which are especially common in these escape games. They’re what serve as the highlight of the show, and they cost the organizers a pretty penny to design. With six players, we’ll likely run into one or two.” “…I’ll mentally prepare for them.” Seemingly envisioning a negative future, Kinko closed her mouth and said nothing further. Yuki felt a tug on her right arm. She had raised her guard after stepping into the hallway, so she nimbly turned around. Thankfully, she hadn’t set off a trap. The source of the tug was none other than Aoi, the very personification of negative thinking, who had grabbed Yuki’s sleeve. “Ah…” The girl made eye contact with her. “I…I’m sorry.” “You don’t have to apologize… What’s wrong?” Aoi angled her head upward, to the point where it would fall off if she raised it any farther. “You said we shouldn’t leave your side, so…” “Ah…,” Yuki mumbled. It was true that clinging to Yuki’s body was the best way to stay close. However, she had made no such suggestion, nor had the idea even crossed her mind. That was because when people reached a certain age, there was a tacit understanding that it was inappropriate to touch other people more than necessary. Stop acting cute, Yuki thought, breaking into a smile. Next she felt a pull on her left arm, and she turned to see Kinko clinging to her. Unlike Aoi, who had only lightly grabbed her sleeve, Kinko was tightly grasping her arm. “This is okay, right?” Kinko asked with a sheepish grin. Yuki thought that her earlier act of swiping a half-eaten muffin would have resulted in the same kind of expression, but evidently, this girl had different standards. Then she felt an overpowering sensation on her back. Someone had wrapped their arms around her stomach. There was no need to turn around to know it was Momono embracing her from behind. The next moment, new hands appeared on her right shoulder and right hip, and by process of elimination, Yuki deduced they were Beniya’s. “You’re a popular one, Yuki.” The voice belonged to Kokuto, who had walked out in front. A devious smirk colored her face. (7/23) The maids proceeded down the hallway in a cluster. Everyone was huddled together except for Kokuto, who seemed somewhat more relaxed on account of this being her second game. Although none of them voiced their feelings aloud, they were all probably nervous. They were clinging to Yuki for the same reason that Beniya had Momono’s back—physical contact with another person generated a sense of security. That was a law of human nature that held true even on a freezing snowy mountain. But for some reason, Yuki felt a hint of restlessness, even though the others likely found comfort in their current formation. She was, quite literally, sandwiched among a group of beautiful girls. Even Aoi had progressed from gently holding Yuki’s sleeve to tightly hugging her body like the others. And yet it was important to note that what came over Yuki was not joy or bliss but nervousness. Why did people tense up when in physical contact with pretty girls? Pretty girls, for goodness’ sake. Was it because their level of happiness exceeded maximum capacity? These thoughts ran through Yuki’s head as she ventured onward. The group first headed for the door at the end of the hallway directly opposite the dining room, as they figured it would be important. However, it was locked. The girls concluded that they would unlock the way forward by searching for a key, so they turned their attention to the other doors lining the hallway. To reiterate, this was less a game of escape than one of death. The problem would not be locating a key—it would be the risk of a player springing a trap and getting injured. For that reason, the key would not be concealed in a hard-to-find location. The majority of the time, it would be somewhere immediately visible, such as on a table or a shelf. However— “It’s not here,” someone said. The group was currently searching the bedroom where Yuki had woken up. Normally, the locations where players started a death game—in this case, the bedrooms—were safe areas. That was because a game would be rendered pointless if players inadvertently got caught in traps while asleep. Since these rooms were safe, they never contained any items necessary to progress the game. Yuki knew full well it was pointless to search the room, but they had already gone through everywhere else, including the five bedrooms where the other girls had woken up. This was the final place a key could be hidden. Yet the only thing they acquired was the knowledge that it was nowhere to be found. “What should we make of this?” Kinko asked while tightly clutching Yuki’s left arm. “Did we overlook somewhere obvious, or do we need to search more thoroughly? Maybe looking for a key was the wrong idea to begin with.” “No, I am fairly certain we do need a key…,” Beniya responded. “After all, we found nothing else indicating a possible way forward.” “Then should we take another quick look around…?” Momono timidly suggested. “Searching more thoroughly sounds too scary.” Momono’s point was valid. Looking under beds or behind dressers would accordingly increase the risk of running into a trap. Before resorting to that, it would be prudent to go over the path they had come from—which they knew was safe—and check to make sure they hadn’t simply overlooked a key. Just as Yuki was about to voice her agreement— “What are you all saying?” The objection belonged to the lone outlaw who hadn’t joined Yuki’s flock—Kokuto. “There’s still one room we haven’t searched.” “Huh?” “The dining room. It’s not like that was a safe area, right?” (8/23) The dining room was exactly as the group had left it. That was no surprise, as nobody else was around. Upon entering the room, the maids loosened their grips around Yuki, likely out of relief from returning to a familiar place. A familiar room. And nowhere inside was there a key. “Guess it’s not here,” Kokuto said. “Come to think of it, we were sitting in here for so long, we would’ve noticed one. Sorry, this was a waste of time.” “No, it was a good suggestion,” Yuki said. “This room was a blind spot.” Under normal circumstances, that was a realization Yuki should have come to on her own. Because she was guiding a group of beginners for the first time, or perhaps because she was in high spirits from being hugged by the many maids, her perspective was more limited. “While we’re here, we might as well take a break.” Yuki approached the table, and the other girls fully detached themselves from her body. She felt a twinge of loneliness at the loss of human touch. She took a seat, and the other five followed suit. They had spent no more than thirty or so minutes searching—at least according to Yuki’s estimate, as there were no clocks in the mansion. That scant amount of exertion hardly warranted a break, and although Yuki did feel nervous, her level of exhaustion barely registered at all. Nevertheless, considering that their lives were on the line and the other girls were unaccustomed to death games, the experience was likely taking a greater toll on the group than Yuki imagined. She herself had just made the mistake of overlooking the dining room as a place to search, so she wasn’t in peak condition, either. She had been the one to state that it was okay to be excessively cowardly. Now was the time to put her own words into practice. Yuki reached for the large plate on the table. She had set her sights on a cookie, but before she could grab it, Kokuto snatched it away. “Come on… Really?” Yuki sighed. “You’ve had so many by now, you should know these are safe. Knock it off and let me eat in peace.” Yuki glared at Kokuto. However, the girl didn’t appear apologetic, nor did she retaliate with a scowl of her own. She kept her eyes fixed on the cookie, deep in contemplation. “…A blind spot…,” Kokuto muttered. She shifted her gaze to the plate, which was around the size of a large pizza. After putting back the cookie, she lifted the plate with both hands and moved it to another spot on the spacious rectangular table. Beneath where the plate had been was a ring of golden keys. “…Aha!” The maids began to murmur. Kokuto scooped up the keys. “This was in a real blind spot. Who knew we’d been reaching our hands over this all along?” She showed the object to the others. At that very moment, Yuki noticed something glimmering near the bottom of the ring—an extremely fine string, like the kind used for magic tricks. Then, in an uncharacteristic act, she shot up out of her chair and shouted at the top of her lungs. “Kokuto! Get down!” “Huh?” A zwoosh cut through the air— (9/23) Three sounds rang out in rapid succession. The first was the sound of a flying object lodging itself into Kokuto’s head, a noise so small and crisp that it defied all expectations of a human brain being pierced. The second was the thump of Kokuto falling over from the momentum of the blow to her head after being deprived of the ability to stand on her own. And the third was the jingle of the bunch of keys falling out of her hands onto the table. Technically, there was also a fourth sound—that of Yuki’s chair toppling over. She had stood up with such vigor that she accidentally kicked it away. But that was all. Be it three sounds or four, there was nothing else as Kokuto’s life came to an end. She breathed her last. The game had taken its first victim. “—!” A muted scream filled the air. Momono curled up into a small ball, clutching her head. It was the kind of pose that suggested a wish to be absorbed back into her mother’s womb. Hers was the most noteworthy reaction to the events that had unfolded, as none of the other maids flew into a panic. That was the only silver lining. But while they had avoided becoming hysterical, not a single one of them was not in shock. The color had drained from each of their faces. Their expressions indicated they had fully come to accept that they were in a game of death. “What was that?” After an unknown amount of time had passed, it was Kinko who first regained enough composure to speak. “Was that a trap?” The question betrayed that she still had holes in her understanding. Yuki nodded. With an eye on Kokuto’s corpse, she explained, “This often happens, where there are particularly dangerous traps set up around important items. I should’ve made that clearer when I had the chance.” Kokuto had been the only non-first-time player besides Yuki. Had she not known the golden rule for these escape games? Or was she aware but hadn’t internalized it? Either way, the truth had vanished with her dying breath. Yuki regretted that she hadn’t been able to shout her instructions a second earlier. Even if it wasn’t possible to stop the trap from activating, Kokuto could have evaded it by ducking. If only Yuki had been slightly more in form, if only she had the experience of leading a group of beginners even once in the past, if only she had deduced the location of the key ring before Kokuto, if only she had realized the possibility of a trap and taken a moment to assess the situation, then Kokuto may have been spared her fate. Yuki felt sorry for the girl but didn’t voice it out loud. She left her place to examine Kokuto’s body, which had unmistakably turned into a corpse. The girl was dead as a doornail, beyond a shadow of a doubt. A sharp metal spike resembling an ice pick had penetrated her skull, from her right temple all the way through to her left. Although it looked as if she had donned one of those prank headbands, there was no denying the reality of the situation. “So…what do we do with that?” The voice was Beniya’s. As if realizing the word that was inappropriate, she immediately reworded her question. “What do we do with her?” “Nothing. We have no choice but to leave her like this,” Yuki answered in a nonchalant tone. “It’s not like there’s anywhere to bury her. The one thing we can do is clasp our hands in prayer, but I’d strongly advise against that.” “How come?” Kinko asked. “There may be situations coming up where we won’t even have the luxury to offer someone a prayer. If we pray for Kokuto but can’t do the same for someone else later, our hearts will grow weak, and that weakness may come back to bite us when the going gets tough. In this kind of game, emotional scars run far deeper than you think. That’s why I don’t stop to mourn when anyone dies. I do that all at once after the game is over.” “…Right.” Yuki turned her gaze to the table—or rather, to the bunch of keys resting on it. The thin wire that had set off the trap was still intact. It was possible that the trap could activate a second time, so she severed it with great caution. Nothing happened. Yuki took the key ring in her hands. “This should unlock that door from earlier.” She looked around at the group of maids, which was now one fewer in number. “Do you all have the will to continue?” (10/23) The five maids once again huddled together and walked down the hallway. None of them spoke a word. Only the sound of five sets of footsteps echoed in the air. They ran into no traps. That was to be expected, as they had already traversed the same hallway once before. Upon reaching the door without any trouble, the cluster temporarily disbanded, as it was possible the act of inserting the key would cause them to relive the same nightmare from earlier. Yuki instructed the others to crouch down, then approached the door and tried each key in succession. The third fit perfectly and turned in the lock. The door swung open—nothing more, nothing less. Since they had just experienced the feeling of having their hopes raised only to be thrust into despair, neither Yuki nor the others exhibited the slightest hint of joy. Instead of dropping their guard, they doubled down on staying alert and passed through the doorframe. The group found themselves in a hexagonal chamber. It had a different ambience from the other rooms they had explored. Every inch of its interior was white, bringing to mind a laboratory or hospital. The room was completely devoid of furniture, clearly indicating it had not been designed as a living area. It served some other kind of purpose. A game-related purpose. “What is this place…?” Kinko voiced her confusion, as if recognizing the oddity of the chamber. “Could this be one of those ‘large-scale obstacles’ you were talking about?” “Probably,” Yuki replied. An unavoidable trap. One they would have to contend with in order to make progress in the game. Directly across the room from where they had entered was another door—a sliding door with a panel above the handle that read CLOSED. It was exactly as the word suggested: The door wouldn’t budge. Whatever force was keeping it shut made it impossible to break through by sheer strength alone. “Um… Excuse me!” Momono shouted. “This door won’t open!” Momono was fiddling with the door they had come through. She was by no means fooling around; her earnest attempts to open it were being thwarted by the uncooperative knob. All the exits had been cut off. “We’re trapped,” Yuki said calmly. “Seems like we’ll be stuck here until we do what we need to.” “By that, do you mean…we have to use those?” Beniya turned to look at a spot on one wall. Each of the walls in the hexagonal room was equipped with a single lever. Since the topic of doors had dominated the conversation, the word lever may have falsely conjured an image of a door lever, but these levers consisted of two metal rods connected to a handle that could be pulled down, like the kind that would be used to pilot a giant mecha. Of the six levers in the room, four were set in the exact center of their respective walls, while the remaining two—the ones sharing a wall with the entrance or exit—were slightly off-center due to the position of the doors. In any case, there were six levers. “Do we have to pull them simultaneously?” Yuki wondered out loud. She reached for a lever but stopped short of touching it. She would have acted differently had she been on her own, but with a group of beginners in tow, there was no reason to take excessive risks. “Pulling the six levers at the same time will probably result in something new to puzzle over…but it should be progress.” “At the same time…?” Momono parroted back, her voice tinged with hesitation. “But right now, there are only…” She was alluding to Kokuto’s death. Her point stood; there were only five people present, one fewer than the number of levers. “I don’t believe that will pose an issue,” Beniya said. “Since there was a deadly trap before this point, the game must be designed with that in mind. For example, maybe we only need to pull five levers, or maybe one of them will stay down after being pulled. Or we could fashion a rope from our maid outfits to keep one secured in the down position.” “We can’t be sure we even need to pull any to begin with,” Yuki remarked. “I know I was the one who brought up the idea, but in these situations, there are sometimes hidden paths forward, ones that seem extremely simple in hindsight. Those alternate routes make it more entertaining for the audience. The key to surviving is calling everything into question. It’s best if we consider the levers our last resort.” “So we should try everything else we can…?” Although the girls were trapped, they had eaten an abundance of sweets earlier. They didn’t have to worry about going hungry in the immediate future, and they had plenty of time to spare. And so the five maids tested every idea they could come up with. Could they open the door without the levers? Was there no other means of escaping the room? Was there some way to keep the levers secured without manually keeping them in place? Would something fortunate happen if they waited around? Alas, none of their efforts bore fruit. The more they tried, the more painfully clear it became that there was only one way forward. “I guess we’re stuck trying the levers,” Kinko said. “Even if there’s a safe alternative path, it’s pointless if we can’t find it. Should we get it over with?” Yuki estimated that around an hour had passed. Yet it was no ordinary hour; she had spent it in a closed space facing risk of death with a group of people she had met only a short while ago. The time that had ticked away felt far longer than an hour with a hand on a hot stove. Upon glancing around the room, Yuki noticed exhaustion had begun to color the others’ faces. The game would still continue after they escaped this room. There was no better time to accept the reality of the situation. “…Should we?” Yuki turned to each of the other girls in succession. “Yes,” Beniya replied with a clear voice. Momono and Aoi kept silent but nodded. “Great. Let’s do it.” Each maid selected a spot to stand and grabbed a lever. “So should we assume one of these levers is a dummy?” Beniya asked. “Yeah, let’s stick with that theory for now. We’ll stay in this formation and keep shifting over counterclockwise until something happens. If that doesn’t work…it’ll be a waste of these clothes, but we can try fixing down a lever.” “Yuki, I want to ask something before we begin,” Kinko said. “Pulling these levers won’t be the end, right? …I think I might know the answer…but what will happen afterward?” “It’ll probably start some kind of minigame.” There was no reason to keep it a secret, so Yuki offered a response drawn from her experience. “Like maybe water will pour into the room, and we’ll have to solve a puzzle before time runs out to avoid drowning. Or maybe the floor will open up, and we’ll fall headfirst into a dark pit if we let go of the lever. You should expect something along those lines. We can make it through safely if we play our cards right, but on the flip side, it’s possible we’ll be wiped out if we flub it.” “This really does feel like a show…,” Beniya muttered. “They went to such lengths to design this set that it seems wasteful to only use it to film us… I’m sure there are plenty of other ways they could make money from this.” “Any other questions?” Yuki’s voice echoed loudly throughout the room. “Nope.” Only Kinko answered. Momono and Aoi again stayed silent but indicated their agreement by nodding. “Then let’s get started. We’ll pull on the count of three.” After a brief pause, Yuki began counting. “One, two, three!” She pulled the lever. All five maids acted in unison. In that sense, their attempt was a success, but nothing else happened. No minigame began, and the panel on the door still read CLOSED. Yuki waited approximately three seconds before releasing the lever. It rose back up to its original position with a clunk. The others followed suit. As decided earlier, each of them shifted one space over counterclockwise to create a new combination of levers, before Yuki gave another signal. Still, nothing happened. Once again, they shifted over one lever. “One, two, three!” Nothing. They again took up new positions, but the situation remained the same. Had they not met the necessary conditions? Did they actually need a group of six to proceed? The maids began to grow uneasy, and as if reflecting that feeling, their fifth attempt ended in failure. Finally, they were on their last combination of levers. “One, two, three!” Yuki shouted. She pulled the lever noticeably harder than before. Five clunks rang out. But that was all. Soon, only silence filled the room. “…………” The girls exchanged glances. Between them was the kind of quiet that would linger on forever until someone intentionally broke it. “So…” Yuki bravely spoke up, assuming her role as the experienced guide. “Since nothing’s happening…let’s gather back together for a moment.” While finishing her sentence, Yuki relaxed her hand. Her eyes were on the other maids and not on the lever. She didn’t need to look to know what was going to happen. The force of the lever would cause it to revert to its original position, so once Yuki loosened her grip, her hand would naturally be pushed upward. She subconsciously expected to feel that force on her palm. However, it was not her palm that felt an external force. It was her wrist—and it was being squeezed. “Huh?” Yuki turned around. She had been handcuffed. (11/23) A metal cuff had appeared from beside the lever. The lever’s position was evidently linked with how tight the handcuff was—the higher the lever, the stronger the force around Yuki’s wrist. She began feeling pain once the lever was around seven-tenths of the way up, so she stopped experimenting any further. If she let go completely, her hand would probably be sliced off. Pulling the lever loosened the restraint, but there wasn’t enough slack to slip free even at its lowest position. She had been shackled. This was an unequivocal sign that a minigame had begun. Parts of the floor began to rise, and soon, they reached the ceiling. From Yuki’s perspective, two walls had formed, extending from the vertices of the hexagon to the center of the room, thereby separating her from the four others. Combined with the wall to which she had been restrained, the walls formed a triangle. The other maids probably had the same view. The hexagonal room had been divided into six equal sections, as if it had been sliced like a cake. A harsh, grating sound assaulted Yuki’s ears. She turned her head toward the source of the noise—the ceiling. Saw blades had emerged from above. There were one, two, three of them, positioned along the sides of the triangular slice. They were spinning too fast for Yuki to tell if they had any teeth, but more likely than not, they did. Even if her assessment was incorrect, coming into contact with those raging high-speed blades of steel would mean certain death. The saw blades inched closer and closer to Yuki. Although they were not descending quickly, their pace was fast enough to send any player’s heart into overdrive. Yuki imagined it must have taken some amount of trial and error to settle on the exact speed of descent. She judged that if the blades reached the floor, there was no chance of escaping with anything less than a mortal wound, no matter how close she pressed her body against the wall. Evading them was going to be impossible. She had to stop their descent, and she had to do so with one hand restrained to the wall. “Yuki! Yuki!” Someone was pounding a wall. It was Kinko. “Saw blades! They’re descending from the ceiling!” “I know,” Yuki replied calmly. In reality, she was calm. Perhaps it was her wealth of experience as a player that had caused her to develop a mental constitution where her heart grew colder the greater the imminent danger. That was the secret to her success—the impressive human ability of adapting to one’s environment. Now, what was it they had to do? Of course, that question assumed the existence of a solution. If there was none, that meant the situation was a punishment imposed on the players for having committed some sort of mistake, in which case it would be futile to try anything. That was why Yuki disregarded that possibility. While jiggling the lever, she examined the accursed cuff keeping her in this predicament. On the side of it, she discovered something resembling a keyhole. A keyhole. The restraint could be unlocked. With her free hand, Yuki immediately grabbed the bunch of keys that lay in the pocket of her maid apron. She pulled the golden ring out and scowled at the sheer number of keys attached to it. With no other choice, she quickly scanned them one by one. Toward the end of this process, she found one that seemed to be a match for the keyhole. She slipped it in and turned, and the cuff came off with a satisfying sound. At the same time, the harsh noise in the room became slightly less grating. Yuki looked up to find that all three saw blades overhead had stopped. So that’s how it is, Yuki thought. But even though the blades had stopped, the noise remained. Only the ones in her section of the room had shut off. The other four girls had to follow the same steps as her. The question was—how? Yuki racked her brain while looking around the triangular area she’d been sectioned off in. The walls stretched up to the ceiling, but there had to be a gap somewhere. Otherwise, there would be no way to pass around the keys, which almost certainly would unlock the others’ restraints. It was possible that each of the cuffs had to be dealt with in different ways, but if that was the case, the others would have to cross that bridge on their own. Yuki found an indentation at the tip of the triangle, where the center of the original room had been. She pushed it. A section of the wall slid out without resistance and fell onto the floor on the other side. Near the midsection of the wall, a gap the size of a mailbox slot opened at the center of the sliced cake where all six walls joined together. “The center of the room!” Yuki shouted, yelling over the saw blades. “I’ll hand you the key ring to unlock your cuff! Once it’s off, the ceiling blades will stop!” It was a poor explanation consisting only of a slew of facts. That was the best she could muster in this emergency. There was a chance the others had failed to hear her, so she repeatedly yelled out the same information as she slipped her hand through the gap and set the key ring on the floor. The very next moment— “Eep—!” Four hands simultaneously rubbed against Yuki’s. A chill ran through her arm, and she reflexively pulled back her hand, leaving only the key ring in the center. The sound of jangling echoed out as four hands wriggled about in the opening of the wall. They were fighting over the keys. As she watched four writhing hands wrestle over the single key ring, an inexplicable dirty feeling ran through Yuki. Now she could understand why certain people had a hand fetish. “Ugh… Stop fighting! We’re down one person, so there’s more than enough time to spare for everyone!” The words down one person carelessly slipped out of Yuki’s mouth, but that was the truth. Although she couldn’t refute the possibility that the time limit had been reduced to match their current numbers, it should still be possible for all of them to survive regardless, as long as they handled things well. All of them, as long as they didn’t sabotage one another like this. One of the hands disappeared with the key ring. In response, the remaining hands pulled back as well. Yuki could tell that Beniya had won the keys. Yuki had struggled against everyone in a prolonged battle over sweets in the dining room, so she’d gained the ability to discern which hand belonged to whom. In fact, Yuki had predicted Beniya would be the first to take the keys. After all, the girl was the tallest of the group. Since everyone had one hand restrained to the wall, they would need to stretch a considerable distance to reach the center of the room. Although Yuki was no longer bound, she tried mimicking the act and was only barely able to reach the center. The span of someone’s arm was roughly equivalent to their height, and Yuki was taller than average. If this was how difficult it was for her to reach, it would be even harder for Aoi and Kinko, both of whom had small statures. Conversely, it would be a piece of cake for the tall and slender Beniya. The advantage offered by extra flexibility in fighting over the keys was enormous, and the irreversible reality was that Beniya benefited from that the most. The sound of jangling rang out once again. Yuki crouched down and peered through the gap to see four hands wriggling about. Four. Yuki furrowed her brows. For some reason, Beniya’s hand was there, too, even though her restraints should have come off. What on earth was she doing? Before Yuki could speak up, the answer came to mind. Beniya was playing favorites. She was attempting to pass the keys to the room directly to the left of hers, where Momono was trapped. An indescribable feeling welled up within Yuki. Beniya’s action implied she favored Momono over the other two, and her prior behavior had suggested as much. The two girls had seemed close to each other, but even so… Yuki was unable to stop her. The key ring made its way to Momono, just as Beniya intended. The faint sound of metal scraping on metal echoed, mixed with the grating noise of the saw blades. Yuki sat down with her back to the wall. Things had taken a turn for the worse. The other girls had wasted too much time struggling over the key ring twice. Yuki couldn’t see how far the remaining saw blades had descended, but if the situation had been designed with proper game balance in mind, then there was no longer a chance for all of them to make it out alive. Someone was going to die—either Kinko or Aoi, or perhaps even both of them. As they barreled toward that inevitable conclusion, there was nothing Yuki could say. She could only remain silent and let the others decide their own fates. Although seeing what was going on wouldn’t make the future any more hopeful, Yuki couldn’t take her eyes off the gap in the wall. She didn’t have the special feeling of wanting to see things through to the end, nor did she have the attitude of a curious onlooker. What came over her was nothing more than an overwhelming force that prevented her from averting her gaze. Perhaps it was the same feeling that gripped the game’s audience. In the end, there was no struggle. Suddenly, an entire wrist passed through the opening of the wall where only fingers had been before. It didn’t stop there; someone inserted a full half of their forearm, all the way through to the space where Momono was. The arm belonged to Kinko. Yuki recognized that immediately. However, she couldn’t understand how Kinko had gotten her arm through there. The distance should have been too great for the girl to reach. Not even Beniya could pull off such a feat. There was no way she could have stretched that far with her other arm fixed to the wall. The answer finally came to her. Kinko had probably— The arm pulled back at an astonishing speed. In that split second, Yuki saw that Kinko had won the key ring from Momono and clasped her fingers around it. Then she heard the clanging of the keys as they scraped against the gap in the wall. Since Yuki’s room neighbored Kinko’s, she put her ear to the connecting wall. She could hear the frantic rattling of keys, hinting that little time remained. Please, please, please, Yuki prayed. Although she had left the others’ fates in their own hands, her hopes for their survival remained unwavering. She wanted to call out to Kinko but intentionally kept quiet. She didn’t want to distract her. And so Yuki simply waited, keeping her worry bottled up inside. Soon, the same satisfying sound she had heard earlier rang out, followed by the distant metallic noise of someone setting down the key ring. And then… And then… She heard a faint pounding against the wall. “—!” It was weak, but Yuki heard it as clear as day. That sound indicated the person on the other side had the liberty of free will. Kinko had survived. Yuki breathed a sigh of relief. And in the same moment… “Aah—” …what filled the air— “AAAAAAAH!! AAAA******************AA*****!! ******!! **********************!! **********AA*!! ***AA*************AA*!! ****!! ****************AA*AA**AAAAAAAAAA**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” —was a voice none of them had heard before. That was unsurprising, as it belonged to someone who had hardly said a word up until this point. It was the first time any of them had heard a distinctly audible noise from the girl, much less a scream. The voice belonged to the timid maid, Aoi. It was the first and last bellow she would ever let out. (12/23) Everything went quiet. A deafening silence enveloped the room, much like the kind that hit after stepping out of an amusement arcade. Then a noise filled the air. It was the sound of the game items disappearing from view. The walls that had risen sank back into the floor, and the six sets of three saw blades—eighteen blades in total—retracted into the ceiling. The only object that remained was the section of the wall Yuki had dismantled in order to pass around the key ring. The triangular chamber transformed back into a hexagonal one, and Yuki, who had been leaning against the wall, fell onto the floor. Another person fell over. It was the girl on the other side of the wall—Kinko. Yuki pulled herself off the floor and looked over. The girl had fallen flat on her face, and her body was quivering wildly. She seemed to be in tears. She was also rhythmically repeating an action, though it was difficult to tell whether she was saying something, taking deep breaths, or simply convulsing. The saw blades must have scraped her, as parts of her maid outfit and gorgeous blond hair had been cut. On top of that, there was nothing beyond her right wrist. What had previously been attached had fallen close to the wall. That was how Kinko had pulled off the trick: She had severed her own hand. It was the simplest way to escape from the cuff. Since human bodies were not plastic models, it was impossible to sever a body part on a whim. It was not Kinko who had done the deed, but the cuff. The restraint was linked to the position of the lever: Raising the lever tightened it, while pulling down loosened it. Yuki had surmised that if the lever reached its highest position, the cuff would be tight enough to slice off a hand. That may very well have been the expected solution for the game. While other players fought over the keys with their fingertips, any player who had the courage to cut off their own hand and go after the keys with their full strength would survive. That was what the game demanded—a mindset that did not balk at the idea of sacrifice. Kinko had made it out alive because she had given up on escaping unscathed. Her quivering was likely not because of pain. “I’m sorry.” That quiet remark reached the ears of Yuki, who was a short distance away. And not just once; Kinko repeated those words at irregular intervals each time a wave of emotions washed over her. The girl’s voice was so soft that it put Aoi’s to shame. Speaking of Aoi, her remains lay on the section of the floor that had belonged to the room adjacent to Kinko’s. “What…is that?” Momono asked. She and Beniya were standing close together. Both of their faces were strained with fatigue, as if they had been forced to work for three days and nights without rest. “Why is it not red?” Momono’s voice was filled with neither fear nor disgust but, rather, confusion. The reason for that could be traced to Aoi’s current condition. Three saw blades had torn her entire body to shreds, yet the scene noticeably lacked fresh red spatters. There weren’t brightly colored pieces of visible flesh, nor was there the metallic smell of blood or the odor of waste that had remained in the girl’s bowels. Instead, lying strewn across the floor was a considerable amount of white fluff, like the kind that would spill from a plushie after it was ripped apart. Yuki realized this was the first time the others had seen this, as Kokuto hadn’t taken much bodily damage when she died. “It’s because of the Preservation Treatment,” Yuki explained. “People watch these games, after all… That’s why they use a technique to tone down the gore. Every player who dies in these games ends up like that.” “Is that possible in so little time?” Beniya asked. It seemed she wanted to recoup at least a sliver of her composure by joining the conversation. “Wiping up flesh and blood, scattering around cotton, and deodorizing the space to completely eliminate any hint of gore… They would’ve had no more than a few seconds to set up the scene.” “Oh, no, it doesn’t work like that…” Yuki shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t explain it properly. The Preservation Treatment doesn’t happen after death; it’s been active ever since we started.” Momono and Beniya both made confused faces. Yuki continued, “I’m not too familiar with the details…but take that white fluff, for example. All of that was Aoi’s circulatory fluid. Our blood’s been treated to solidify immediately upon coming in contact with air, so even if we get injured, any bleeding will stop on its own. That’s why there isn’t any smell, either. None of us should give off any body odor. Oh, and treated corpses won’t start rotting even when left out in the open. I think it’s because they injected some preservative chemicals into us.” The color drained from both the girls’ faces. Yuki felt guilty for unsettling them even further, but it appeared they understood everything she had wanted to explain. “It’s not an urban legend… Like the one that says people who consume lots of preservatives decompose slower when dead…,” Beniya muttered. “Does that mean…our bodies have been tampered with?” “Yeah, when we were being brought here. That’s why you shouldn’t donate blood or anything. They’ll give you a rundown once the game’s over.” Finally, Beniya went completely silent. Yuki worried she would faint from being overwhelmed. Although that didn’t happen, she did hang her head limply. Momono seemed comparatively less shocked, and she started rubbing Beniya’s back. Their positions had reversed. Yuki turned to Kinko. She was still in the same posture—face down and crying—and she kept murmuring “I’m sorry” at irregular intervals. The results of the Preservation Treatment were on full display when it came to her right wrist. It was covered with white fluff, and the bleeding had stopped. “You should stop saying that,” Yuki warned. “It’s fine to think it, but it’s better not to voice it out loud. It’ll only make you weaker.” Kinko showed no reaction. Yuki could tell what she was feeling. Kinko had a warped sense of responsibility that had compelled her to take on her father’s debt, which suggested she was heavily swayed by emotions. Of all the game’s players, she had taken the greatest physical and mental toll thus far. Yuki deserved some of the blame for falling short as a leader, and she felt quite sorry for the girl, but she consciously repressed those feelings. Even if Yuki’s actions had led to undesirable outcomes, she’d adopted an attitude of not taking responsibility in games. She had decided that a long, long time ago. That was why she had said nothing when Kokuto died and why she was prepared to refuse to apologize to Kinko even if the latter demanded an apology. That was her rule—her ironclad dogma to survive even a minute or a second longer in this world. Yuki hoped Kinko would adopt the same mindset. Alas, she couldn’t think of any useful words that would inspire a change of heart. Yuki approached the door whose panel now read OPEN and slid it open. She stood there, waiting for the other maids to voluntarily express their willingness to proceed. (13/23) A single path stretched out beyond the door. The maids walked in complete silence. Nobody said a single word. It was the same as when they had walked down the previous hallway, but the context differed drastically. The silence from earlier had, in a sense, stemmed from resolve. They’d been quiet because they were fired up. But now their quiet was an unmistakable sign that they were in the grips of despair. Filled with anguish over the harrowing situation and regret for joining the game, they plodded along in low spirits out of a sense of resignation that they had no choice but to continue after coming this far. Inertia carried them forward. Additionally, the four of them no longer stuck together in their earlier formation. The reason behind that was unclear. Perhaps it was because the maid who was supposed to cling to Yuki’s right arm was gone, or maybe the events of the previous room had caused cracks to form in their relationship. Yuki had felt tense at being hugged by a group of pretty girls, but now that they were off her, she couldn’t shake the indescribable feeling of loneliness that had come over her. Although their cluster had disbanded, Yuki remained in front as the lone experienced player. Kinko trudged behind her to the left, wearing a gloomy expression, as if having inherited Aoi’s spirit. To the right, Momono and Beniya were walking hand in hand with their bodies against each other, all but confirming any suspicions that they had developed a close rapport. “Well, we’re past the worst of it,” Yuki said, hoping to dispel the oppressive mood hanging in the air. “We started with six players. It’s safe to assume we won’t face any trials more brutal than that one. Considering our current numbers, all that’s left is to cross the finish line, I think.” That was no lie. These death games were designed to have an average survival rate of roughly 70 percent. With two out of six players dead, they had already crossed that threshold, so it was unlikely that any more serious obstacles stood in their way. If there were any more trials they had to overcome, there would be at most one, and it likely wouldn’t claim any victims. However, none of the maids’ expressions showed any indication of relief. “Oh, by the way, you don’t have to worry about your hand,” Yuki said, glancing at Kinko’s truncated right arm. “The Preservation Treatment makes it simple to reattach. They’ll fix you right up after the game.” Surprisingly enough, these death games were backed by a full range of medical support. Although treatments were provided by back-alley doctors, the doctors would do everything in their power to treat injuries sustained in a game. And thanks to the Preservation Treatment, the girls’ capacity to heal was far greater than normal. For one, severed limbs could be reattached without issue. Hair, skin, teeth, and nails could also be repaired to some extent. Sometimes, replacement organs would even be provided, albeit of unknown origin. These treatment services would perhaps be better described as “restorations.” As long as their hearts were still pumping, players would, for the most part, end up as good as new. Kinko would recover her right hand, yet the gloom on her face remained. Why was that? Yuki was at a loss. Although this was her twenty-eighth game, she hadn’t learned how to cheer up a dispirited beginner. She had never before led a group of first-time players. In her entire career as a player, Yuki had experienced few games more abnormal than this one. After reflecting on this, she realized the design of the game was unusual; the players were too greatly imbalanced in skill level. The setup basically ensured that Yuki would dominate. That wasn’t interesting in the slightest. It would be a different story had a “wolf” been disguising themselves as a beginner, but based on everything she had witnessed—to the extent that she trusted her powers of observation—there was no one like that among the participants. The process of matching players to games was not a perfect science. Indeed, Momono had been scouted to round out the player numbers, so it was possible the game was simply unbalanced due to chance. Still, Yuki couldn’t help but wonder about the composition of the game. If the game had been intentionally set up this way—if the game had been designed under the presumption that Yuki would take command and attempt to escape with all players working together… “…………” As she focused on that train of thought, no words escaped her mouth. The four girls proceeded down the straight hallway. There were plenty of furnishings befitting of a mansion—framed paintings, taxidermy displays, a five-tiered chest of drawers, and more—but with no way of knowing if any traps lay nearby, the group paid them no heed. They remained completely silent until they reached the end of the hallway. (14/23) The hallway led to a small room, which contained two doors standing side by side. The one on the left was open, and inside was a space approximately the size of a shower stall that was slightly too small to be considered a room. It was most likely— “An elevator,” Yuki said after approaching the open door. “If we take this at face value, then I suppose they’re telling us to get in…” Yuki examined the gap between the door and the elevator car. The simplest trap idea that came to mind was a guillotine blade flying through the gap and slicing the first person who dared to enter in half. She took off her headband and slowly passed it through the door. Nothing happened. It was possible the trap was designed to not activate for nonliving objects, so she reached into the elevator with her left arm. Nothing happened. She then stepped forward, brushing her long skirt against the floor as she entered the elevator. Nothing happened. Yuki inspected the interior of the elevator, but not even a single razor blade shot out. This was expected, as she had surmised that they had already gotten past the worst of the game, but she still let out a sigh of relief. She gestured to the three girls waiting outside, indicating that the coast was clear. One by one, they shuffled into the elevator. Nothing happened when Kinko entered, nor when Beniya came in after, but as soon as Momono stepped inside, a buzzer went off. “Ngh…” A barely audible grunt escaped from one of the girls’ lips. The meaning of the buzzer was immediately apparent. The four girls turned to look at the LCD monitor attached to the top of one of the elevator wall panels. The screen indicated a weight limit of 330 pounds. “…………” It was difficult for Yuki to tell from their expressions alone how deeply the others understood the significance of that figure. “…Ah…” Yuki sighed, beating the others to the punch. “For now, let’s all get out. At the same time.” Everyone else nodded. The four of them lined up horizontally and stepped out of the elevator in unison. Then they freely scattered around the small room. “A limit of 330 pounds…” Beniya was the first to broach the subject. “That’s exactly enough for three of us.” “Seems so,” Yuki responded. Despite the calmness of her remark, she was irritated at the situation. Regardless of whether the organizers had set the limit supposing an average weight of 110 pounds per person or they had simply chosen a semiround number, Yuki felt truly annoyed. “And it was displayed on a digital screen… I think the limit was adjusted to match the number of people in our group right now. If all six of us had made it here, it could’ve easily been 550 pounds instead.” “Then we should ride it two at a time…right?” Momono suggested. She was clearly seeking agreement from the others. “If only three people can get on, there shouldn’t be a problem riding in groups of two, right?” “Unfortunately,” Beniya replied, “the elevator will only work once.” “How do you know that?” “It’s written right there. ‘ONE TIME ONLY.’” Beniya pointed to the wall next to the elevator. Those three simple words were written there in plain English. The implication was obvious—the elevator would operate once and only once. “This elevator is only meant for three people to use.” “…But then that means—” Momono cut herself off. Her gaze had fallen not on the elevator but on the other door, which had slipped Yuki’s mind. It was made of glass that was not frosted or wired, rendering the room inside visible. The room had tiered seating like that of a sauna—in fact, it probably was a sauna. The interior was lit with warm-colored lights, an unusual sight inside the monochrome mansion. But more than the sauna itself, what caught Yuki’s eye were the walls, which were covered with a wide variety of weapons of all shapes and sizes. The room was a real-life manifestation of a weapons shop from a fantasy story. It was stocked with swords, blunt objects, projectiles, and spears. Perhaps for the best, there were no explosives or firearms. Toward one side was a hammer with 2 TONS engraved on it, lending the room a comical aura that offered a hint of reassurance that the room was a thing of fiction. However, it was all real. Four maids. An elevator that could only hold three people. Numerous weapons encouraging a brawl. Those elements implied the rules of the game were— “—No, that’s not it.” Yuki shook her head. “We can’t jump to conclusions. It’s true the elevator’s weight limit corresponds to the load of three people, but that doesn’t mean we have to leave one of us behind. We just have to get rid of the weight of one person.” “……?” Beniya looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” “Well…” Yuki was understandably hesitant to lay it out in plain terms. She pointed at the sauna room with her thumb. “We have to slowly but surely discard the weight of one person among the four of us.” (15/23) A noticeable chill ran through the room. “I only remember it vaguely…but I think each arm makes up less than five percent of your body weight.” Yuki had learned that in a previous game. She continued searching her memory. “Each leg is slightly less than twenty percent. Water makes up around sixty percent of our body weight, and we can sweat out around ten percent of that, which makes six percent. Cutting off our hands and feet would add up to about five percent, so not as much… Surprisingly, hair isn’t very heavy, so that would only chop off around a quarter of a pound. We can’t forget about these maid outfits, either. They weigh at least several pounds, so we should trim them down as much as we’re comfortable.” “You’re kidding,” Momono said. Her face was paler now than it had been at any previous point in the game. “Um… This is a joke, right? Please say it’s a joke!” “Leave the cutting to me,” Yuki replied. “I’m no stranger to this. I promise to lop off any body part in a single swing.” “That doesn’t make it any better!” Momono immediately crumpled to the floor. “There’s nothing to worry about, thanks to the Preservation Treatment,” Yuki said, facing Momono’s hair whorl. “As long as we don’t do a horrible job severing what we need to, everything will be reattached.” “They better be…,” Beniya said. She was leaning against the wall. “…Is there no way to resolve this less violently? Maybe we can find an alternative path forward, as you mentioned in the previous room.” “We’ll look around, of course, but you should prepare yourself for the possibility that we won’t find anything.” “Dividing 110 pounds across the four of us means just over 25 pounds per person, right?” Momono persisted in her protest. “Don’t boxers cut up to 40 or so pounds before a fight? Can’t we try what they do…?” “Well, they do that over the course of a month… We don’t have the time.” That dealt the finishing blow to Momono, whose voice vanished from the air. This could be bad, Yuki thought. They would only have to temporarily leave behind parts of their bodies. Thanks to the Preservation Treatment, anything they cut off would be reattached after the game ended, and they didn’t have to be afraid of bleeding to death. Compared to the hexagonal room and the search for the key ring, this could be considered a far safer minigame. However, Yuki hadn’t expected the others to react so strongly. This difference in opinion was the result of the others’ experience, or lack thereof, in death games. They weren’t used to treating their own body like a hand in a card game or as a pawn they could discard if the need arose. They had also only learned of the Preservation Treatment a short while ago and were likely not yet fully convinced of its implications. In other words, they were resistant to the idea of chopping up their bodies. That reluctance perhaps far eclipsed their resistance to murder. It wouldn’t be surprising if someone was entertaining the idea of killing one person to allow the three others to escape. Yuki clenched a fist inside the pocket of her maid outfit. If that came to pass, and one of them suddenly went on the attack, she would be forced to step in. She kept Momono, Beniya, and Kinko equally in her sights, so as to not miss the moment when one of them moved their legs. Yuki steeled herself, recognizing that the situation presented a critical juncture. She devoted her full attention to monitoring the other three— “I…” However… …the next words that filled the air undermined Yuki’s entire line of thought. “I’ll stay behind. You three, please go on ahead.” (16/23) Those words caught Momono, Beniya, and even the veteran Yuki off guard. The three of them froze in place, and time inside the small room came to a momentary standstill. Taking advantage of the pause, Kinko took off, her blond pigtails gently twirling in the air behind her. “……! Wait!” shouted Yuki, the first to come to her senses. However, it was too little, too late. After all, the small room was only several feet wide. Yuki had no chance of stopping Kinko from entering the sauna and closing the door behind her. A second later, Yuki grabbed the handle of the glass door but failed to make it in time, as the door refused to budge no matter how hard she tried to open it. Either it was locked or something was keeping it shut as a doorstop. Regardless, the outcome was the same. Yuki started banging on the glass, but her efforts were in vain. It seemed sound failed to reach the other side, so there was no point even trying to call out. The only reaction Kinko showed was a glance, her eyes filled with overwhelming exhaustion. Moments later, she fell onto her bottom and grabbed her knees, though it was impossible to tell if she had collapsed or was simply sitting down. She had barricaded herself inside. “Um… Wh-what’s going on?” Momono asked, flustered. “What just happened?” “…Exactly what it looks like. Kinko’s given up on escaping.” Yuki clutched her head in front of the door, but behind her appearance of distress, her heart rapidly grew cold. That could only mean one thing—the situation had taken a dire turn. “Self-sacrifice. Heroism. That’s one of the reasons beginners die.” It was a form of panic. Mystery stories often featured a trope where a coward loses trust in everyone but themselves and holes up in a bedroom, only to be found in a grisly state the following morning. But in this case, it was the opposite. Excessive bravery. Abandoning one’s life after getting caught in an extreme situation. Yuki had seen similar scenes play out countless times in the past. Right as a game was entering its final stages, players who had been mentally battered by the constant surprises on offer abandoned themselves to the mercy of the game and ended up throwing away their lives. The most they got out of it was the satisfaction of being able to die with a feeling of responsibility or guilt. “I’m at fault for Aoi’s death. “I must atone with my life.” Yuki continued banging hard on the glass, convinced it would shatter. After all, the door was not a partition necessary for the game, so there was no reason for it to be indestructible. However, her throbbing fist made it clear that it was impossible to break through without tools. She needed something to break the glass. The weapons in the sauna room before her glimmered like holy swords, but they were useless as long as she couldn’t get her hands on them. Yuki turned on her heel and motioned to exit the room. The next moment, she felt a tug on her arm. Yuki turned around to find Momono standing there. “Um… So…” The girl had a look of protest. Beniya, who was standing a little farther into the room, had the same gaze. Yuki subconsciously curled her lips into a smile. Momono’s and Beniya’s eyes were doing the talking. What’s the problem? If she’s willing to die, we should let her. The three of us should escape. “What?” Yuki intentionally asked. Both Momono and Beniya were at a loss for words. They were waiting for Yuki to read the room. A wave of exhilaration washed over Yuki. The fact that these two adorable maids were thinking something so atrocious seemed awfully impure. She didn’t fault them for being despicable or cold-blooded, but instead simply found them endearing. Although it wasn’t something she particularly wanted to think about—perhaps Yuki was only motivated to continue the game to chase this sensation of ecstasy. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something moving. Yuki turned her head. Kinko was taking a knife off the wall. There was little chance she was going to hand it over, which meant she was planning on using it herself. And there was only one thing nearby she could possibly use it on—her own body. That was the only plausible explanation: She was going to stab herself. With the intention of taking her own life. If that happened, the three of them would have no choice but to leave her behind. This was what Kinko had decided on doing after seeing Yuki and the other maids dragging their feet. Yuki’s eyes widened in surprise. Fortunately, the knife in Kinko’s quivering left hand was pointed at her right elbow. How cute, Yuki thought. A wound there wouldn’t be fatal, with or without the Preservation Treatment. But with Kinko taking action, time was running out. Yuki turned back to Momono. “Momono, think about it.” Yuki went for the clincher. “If Kinko dies here—” It only took a few more words to convince them. Upon hearing Yuki’s explanation, Momono and even Beniya altered their expressions. Exactly—in their situation, there was a crystal clear reason why they couldn’t let Kinko kill herself, one that had nothing to do with morality or their sanity. If Kinko died here, Yuki and the others would be backed into a corner. Although it was unlikely they would all lose their lives, it was possible they would sustain injuries that would never heal, not even with the Preservation Treatment. Yuki informed the other two of the reason behind that. Momono loosened her grip. “Can I go?” Yuki asked, staring straight into her eyes. With little alternative, Momono nodded in resignation. (17/23) The hallway that led to the small room was a non-branching path. As far as Yuki could remember, the hallway did not contain a single weapon. Still, she had a plan. A tool that could break a glass door? There were plenty of items in the mansion that would fit the bill. Halfway down the path, she spotted a chest of drawers. It was a charming piece of furniture that stood at half Yuki’s height, and its drawers alternated in color between white and black. She had occasionally seen similar items placed in hallways in video games and movies, but why did this hallway have any need for storage space? What could be lying inside? She would soon come to learn the answer. Steeling her nerves to the greatest extent possible, Yuki resolutely pulled open the top drawer, fully determined to avoid sustaining any mortal wounds. Nothing happened. Yuki alternated hands as she continued her assault on the chest of drawers. She opened the second drawer. And the third. And the fourth. The pull of the fifth drawer felt ever so slightly different. Immediately, she dove sideways and tumbled onto the hallway floor. A whiz echoed through the air, followed by the sound of something tearing through wood. Yuki steadied herself and looked up. As she had expected, a metal rod had lodged itself inside the chest of drawers, the same kind that had ended Kokuto’s life some time ago. It was one of the mansion’s traps. The rod was sharp and rather thick, like an ice pick or a screwdriver. Since it lacked a handle, it took some effort for Yuki to pull it out of the wood. She doubled back—or rather, tripled back down the path from which she came and returned to the small room. “Yuki!” Momono called out. “How’s Kinko?” Yuki asked. “Well, um, you see…” “She’s gone completely limp.” Beniya, who was standing in front of the glass door, finished the sentence. On the other side, Kinko was lying face up on the floor. “I believe it’s mental fatigue, rather than a physical injury. It didn’t seem like she cut herself anywhere important.” “Got it.” Yuki leaped toward the glass door. She drove the newly obtained metal rod into the edge of the glass. A crack appeared. Yuki grinned. This was one of the primary methods of breaking glass, and the most optimal when using a small tool. After removing several shards from the door and opening a hole large enough to fit her arm through, she stuck her hand in and groped around for the handle. She felt a recess on the other side of the door. Yuki jiggled around with it, disengaged the lock, and pulled back her hand, causing a single piece of glass to go flying as her sleeve got caught. The door opened. The first thought that came to Yuki’s mind was that the interior was hot. It was no doubt a sauna. It made sense to have such a room, since they had to shed body weight. The heat felt even more oppressive than it would have normally due to her heavy maid outfit. Relieved that the Preservation Treatment meant she wouldn’t end up smelling sweaty, Yuki rushed over to Kinko and violently shook the collapsed girl’s shoulders. “Kinko!” The girl’s eyes fluttered open. No light resided in them. Not even someone who had locked themselves in a sauna for half a day would end up looking like that. In truth, Yuki had rarely ever witnessed such a face, since the vast majority of players died moments after falling into despair. Kinko’s expression was that of someone whose soul had drifted away from their corporeal body, lacking any will to keep on living. Yuki carried the girl’s dainty body on her shoulder. She was light. So light, it was as though not a single organ was inside her body. So light that Yuki didn’t feel the need to carry the girl on her back. As if transporting a giant stuffed animal won from a crane game, Yuki held on to Kinko tightly and motioned to leave the sauna. “Why?” Kinko asked. “Why did you come in, Yuki?” “Well, you wouldn’t come out,” Yuki answered nonchalantly. “Didn’t I say to go on ahead?” “And I said we’d try to clear this game with as many of us as possible.” “…Just forget about me!” Her voice sounded strained. “I don’t care if I die! Please leave me behind!” In times like these… The most socially desirable thing to do would be to lecture the girl by calling her a fool, slapping her on the cheek, and eloquently championing how wonderful it was to live. But she couldn’t find it in herself to do so. After all, nobody valued life as little as Yuki did. She was a regular player of death games, and she wasn’t so shameless as to be able to set that fact aside and chastise someone. Besides, even outside of the games, Yuki also balked at the idea of using violence for the sake of intimidation. It was an impossible ask for her. In light of that, would claiming that she didn’t need a reason to save the weak be the next best thing to do? That was also impossible, for it would be a lie. Yuki didn’t pride herself on having a pure soul. Her altruism was geared solely toward giving herself an advantage in the games. Betrayal. Insincerity. Lies. Subterfuge. It was her belief that relying on those sorts of tactics would cause one’s heart to grow vile and empty before eventually leading to self-destruction. At the end of the day, Yuki was a player to the bone—a resident of the world bordering between life and death. She couldn’t say anything that sentimental. “I can’t let that happen.” That was why, in the end, there was only one thing Yuki could say. “Because, even without you, the three of us left would still be far over the weight limit.” “…Huh?” “Well, you know. Momono and Beniya are both on the heavy side, so we’d still have to get rid of weight. Without access to the sauna room, we’d be in big trouble.” (18/23) The heights and builds of the four maids were as follows. Kinko was the least blessed on both scales. Her back was around the length of a small stool. Her neck was so thin that it looked as if it would snap if you applied any amount of force to it. Her delicate body was apparent even beneath her maid outfit. After carrying her, Yuki got a better sense of her build. Numbers-wise, Kinko probably didn’t even weigh sixty-five pounds, comparable to an elementary school student pre-growth spurt. On the opposite side of the spectrum were Momono and Beniya. One had the ultimate voluptuous body. The other had a princely appearance with a height that seemed to pierce the heavens. But upon further reflection, Beniya wasn’t the problem, as she was tall and had a toned physique. The issue was Momono. What was the deal with her—with those thighs? At the start of the game, Yuki had idly thought about wanting to touch them, but now just looking at them irritated her. Momono had such an outrageous body that asking for her weight would spark a sense of guilt. Still, Yuki was in no place to find fault with the others. Although she was smaller than Momono and Beniya, her weight still certainly exceeded 110 pounds. As such, everyone besides Kinko exceeded the average threshold. Yuki estimated there were 45 pounds of excess weight between the three of them. Not 35, not 55, but 45. She theorized that, because the game used 330 pounds as the weight of three girls, the average weight of the starting six players must have been calibrated to match that of girls of similar ages—110 pounds. Neither of the girls who had passed away—Aoi and Kokuto—had extreme builds, so the weights of Yuki, Momono, and Beniya likely balanced out the lightness of Kinko. That was how Yuki came up with the number 45. Forty-five pounds. Even if they had decided to leave Kinko behind, they would have to shed that much weight. An average of 15 pounds per person. Some people believed it was possible to naturally lose that amount of weight through fasting alone, but that was a misconception. Fasting resulted in surprisingly little weight loss. The first day of fasting usually saw a sharp decrease in weight due to the loss of water weight, but the trend line immediately leveled out. One’s basal metabolic rate only resulted in the loss of around a third of a pound per day. Yuki and the others would likely die of starvation before shedding 15 pounds, but even if they managed to succeed, there was still more of the game to go through. It would be a huge blunder to think they could clear the game when they were half dead. It was obvious they would have to resort to a more direct method. Cutting off body parts. What they needed were the formidable weapons inside the sauna room. Yuki and Kinko returned to the small chamber. Yuki loosened her hold, and Kinko stepped onto the floor. Neither Momono nor Beniya rejoiced at her safe return, and they didn’t greet or approach her, either. Instead, an off-putting silence fell as the four of them stood at an awkward distance from one another. Yuki cast a sideways glance at Kinko. The girl was red in the face, likely because she had run off with the intent of self-sacrifice yet had now learned her actions had in fact driven her team into a greater predicament—not to mention she had failed to actually sacrifice herself. Her head was drooped low, her hands fidgeted idly, and her lips flapped about yet produced no words. Overall, she looked rather embarrassed. Just imagining Kinko’s mental state caused Yuki’s heart to pound, but since she couldn’t stare at the girl forever, she gently patted her small back. “For the record, Kinko, I think you can afford to be more dishonest.” Yuki realized that, at some point, she had started feeling less guarded around Kinko. Since when? From the very beginning? Yuki didn’t recall ever feeling reserved around her, despite the fact that she had kept the other four maids at arm’s length. Maybe she had instinctively looked down on Kinko because she was the shortest of the participants. With nothing else to do, Yuki entered the sauna room by herself. She gathered a number of blades that seemed capable of cutting human flesh, returned to the small room, and dropped them on the floor with a clang. The sound naturally drew the others’ attention. “Dividing one hundred and ten equally among us means twenty-seven and a half pounds per person.” Yuki adopted as casual a tone as she could muster, since she thought that would be the most effective. “But our weights are all different, so we should think about it in terms of percentages instead of pounds. We need to leave behind the weight of one person between the four of us, so we’ll each have to shed a fourth of our body weight.” Gloom once again clouded the others’ faces. The reality the earlier commotion had distracted them from returned to center stage. “I’ll leave the choice of body parts up to you, but I don’t recommend the torso. It’s hard to cut and harder to reattach. I suggest choosing between your arms and legs.” “Based on the percentages you mentioned,” Beniya commented, “it seems the only real option is to cut off a leg.” Each arm made up around 5 percent of one’s body weight, while each leg was about 20 percent. To reach 25 percent, there was only one sensible option. “Yep.” Yuki nodded. “That’s why I propose we each cut off one leg, for twenty percent of our weight. Then we use the sauna to sweat out an additional five percent, which makes twenty-five percent. I think that’s the most realistic plan that minimizes our losses.” “It’ll have to be cut off pretty close to the hip, right?” Beniya looked down at her own legs. Yuki couldn’t tell if they were slender or plump, as they were covered by the long maid outfit. “Will those blades really do the trick?” “…I have experience with this. Though it’ll be my first time amputating a live person, I’ll do my best to ensure the process is…as quick and painless as possible.” Yuki glanced at Momono. “Why are you looking at me?” Momono asked, hiding her thighs with her hands. “And, um, everything will really get reattached, right?” “Yep. That’s a guarantee.” “I find it quite hard to imagine that will fully heal.” Beniya shot a glance at Momono. “…Stop it! Don’t look at me!” “There’s no problem,” Yuki said. “Just think about it like gaining the body of a zombie or a stuffed animal. As long as all parts remain intact, no injury is too severe to be healed. My arms and legs are proof of that.” After saying that, Yuki stretched out her arms. This was her twenty-eighth game, so her limbs had been severed countless times before, and she had often suffered worse injuries than that. Yet she was still able to remain active as a player. That was the ultimate proof of the power of the Preservation Treatment. “Is that really true?” Beniya asked, still showing some skepticism. “Can you prove that to us right now?” “Huh…? How would I do that?” “Take your clothes off.” Her tone was gravely serious. “Show us visible proof those arms and legs are really yours.” (19/23) Some of the details of the subsequent events will be omitted. The scenes that followed were difficult to watch. This had nothing to do with Yuki stripping down and everything to do with the elements of spatter horror. While Yuki had promised to carry out everything as painlessly as possible, dismemberment was dismemberment. And what would dismemberment be without screams of agony? Although the maids were players in a death game, they still had a claim to dignity. And so Yuki completely wiped from memory everything they had screamed during the procedure, the way they thrashed around, and their reactions to losing a leg, leaving only the objective facts of the situation. As the first order of business, the group searched for an alternative path. Even with the reassurance of the Preservation Treatment, they wanted to avoid sustaining unnecessary losses at all costs. Were they mistaken about something? Had they misread the weight limit? Could there be a hidden passageway somewhere? Was there anything they could do to disguise their weights? Were there simpler and more effective ways of getting rid of the extra weight? At any rate, with plenty of things to consider, they conducted a thorough search as if completely removed from reality, but to no avail. There was truly no way forward besides dismemberment. Although they came up empty-handed, their efforts were not entirely in vain, for the search wound up strengthening their resolve. The dismembering occurred in the order of Yuki, Kinko, then Beniya, with Momono last. Yuki needed to go first to prevent a scenario where the three noninjured participants would band together to kill the already-maimed person to satisfy the weight limit of 330 pounds and escape. With Yuki starting off, there was no worry of that possibility. Maybe it was her pride speaking, but even with one leg down, she had no intention of losing to a group of three beginners. The fact that it was physically impossible for Yuki to chop off her own leg presented the biggest issue. In line with her character, Kinko offered to do the deed out of a sense of guilt, but she fundamentally lacked the strength to do so. Yuki indicated her appreciation of the thought and instead selected Momono. At first glance, the princely Beniya seemed calmer and more capable of handling the task, but Yuki deduced she was the kind of person to get queasy at the first hint of gore, as evidenced by her reaction to Aoi’s death. That left Momono, the one among them who seemed most ill-suited to wield a blade, and, well, she did the best she could with the duty thrust upon her. That took care of Yuki. Kinko’s turn ended without much fanfare. Her legs were so thin that it seemed like someone could rip them off with their bare hands. Still, Yuki gripped the blade and aimed for the girl’s groin while Momono and Beniya pinned down Kinko’s arms and legs to the floor. Yuki was able to fully overcome her hesitation to perform the procedure. In fact, she felt an almost guilty pleasure at the sight of two maids physically restraining Kinko. Similarly, she chopped off Beniya’s leg without any difficulty. The problem was her. Yuki placed her hand on Momono’s thigh. She’d never imagined that this was how her wish would come to fruition. She felt greatly troubled, but at the same time, the thought that the deed had to be done lit a fire in her. Perhaps this was how art restorers felt about their jobs. She did the amputation beautifully, without leaving a single scratch. Once that was over with, the group fashioned some of the many rod-shaped weapons in the sauna room into makeshift crutches. After sweating as much as possible to reduce the water content in their bodies, they had no qualms about cutting up their maid outfits as much as they could, even knowing they were being recorded. Despite all this, they still exceeded the weight limit, so each of the girls cut their hair short, and Yuki ended up carrying Kinko on her back to get rid of the weight of a crutch. With that, the group managed to fall under the 330-pound weight limit. The elevator began to move. Upon processing this, they all collapsed to the floor. Since they each only had one leg, it would likely be a challenge to get back up after sitting down, but still, they sat. Even if some miracle fully restored their legs in that moment, Yuki thought they wouldn’t be able to get back on their feet for a while. That was how significant a milestone they had crossed. She looked around at the other girls. No longer were they maids. They had taken off their aprons, wearing only dresses that had been trimmed short. The girls exchanged glances and smiled. They felt camaraderie at having gone through an initiation. The bitter struggles they shared had given rise to a sense of unity. Though she understood that this may have been an illusion that would soon vanish, Yuki basked in the comfortable feeling. It was wonderful. She even thought that she wouldn’t mind if the elevator continued moving for eternity, without ever reaching its destination. (20/23) Ideally, the elevator would lead directly to the exit. Considering the number of obstacles they had overcome, Yuki felt there was a good chance of that being the case, but her theory missed the mark. The doors opened to reveal a large space that resembled an entrance hall. They would have to walk a little bit farther. Yuki pushed herself up off the floor. “Let’s go,” she said. “These games sometimes raise your hopes only to dash them, so stay on your guard until the end.” The girls stepped out of the elevator. None of them was accustomed to walking with a crutch, but compared to the struggles they had faced earlier, this was nothing. Soon, they spotted what seemed to be an exit and, despite their slow speed, proceeded straight toward it. “It’s quite irritating that the exit is right in front of us, yet still feels so far away,” Beniya said, her eyes fixed on the goal. Their pace was leagues slower than it had ever been. “I guess so,” Yuki said. “Why don’t we talk about something? We’ve spent a lot of time in silence, so there’s plenty we have to chat about.” “Chat about? Like what?” “Like the first thing we want to do after escaping.” “…Won’t that bring bad luck?” Momono asked from beside them. “Isn’t that a death flag, where whoever talks about that will die?” “Not at all. It can even have the opposite effect. This might sound like a cliché, but people who have a reason to live survive more easily.” Since Yuki brought up the topic, she decided to kick things off. “Personally, I’ve been thinking I really need to throw out my trash soon, or else I’ll be in a pickle.” “You sure have it easy…” “No, I’m serious. I have two full bags of plastic trash in my apartment. Since this is how I make a living, I’m never sure what day of the week it is, so I always miss out on the chance to throw stuff out. Tomorrow’s Friday, right?” “Well, we don’t know what day it is today. Who knows how long we were knocked out for.” “We shouldn’t have skipped any days…so today should be Thursday. Oh, but our legs need to get reattached, so I won’t have time tomorrow…” Yuki frowned. After staring at Yuki for a while, Momono spoke up next. “…I want to eat ramen. If I make it out alive, I’ll chow down until my stomach’s about to explode.” “You like ramen?” “Well, it’s not my absolute favorite or anything. It’s just, since coming here, I’ve only eaten sweet stuff.” “Ah…” That was understandable. “How about you, Beniya?” Momono asked, turning her head. Beniya replied, “Well, first, I’ll have to pay off what I owe.” Right, she had incurred debt—or as she had put it, “liabilities.” “And after that?” Yuki asked. “I’ll study some more.” “Study?” “The prize money from this game likely won’t be enough for me. I’ll prepare myself so I can survive next time.” “Are you that much in debt?” Momono looked shocked. “Actually, hang on—how much is the prize money anyway?” “It’s typically in the ballpark of three million for your first game,” Yuki answered. Of course, that figure was in Japanese yen. It was difficult to judge whether that was a large amount of money. On one hand, it felt like a paltry sum for risking one’s life, but on the other hand, it felt like far too much for at most half a day’s work that simply involved putting one’s life on the line, with no experience, certifications, or academic qualifications required. Regardless, three million was three million. “It’s not easy playing in back-to-back games,” continued the veteran Yuki. “How long should I wait before doing another?” “It differs by person, but for me, less than a week is too risky. But my body starts getting rusty if I wait too long, so I try to join at least one game per month. So I’d suggest anywhere between a week and a month.” “Okay…” “What about you, Kinko?” Yuki asked, directing her voice to her back. “Will the prize money be enough for you?” “……” After a brief pause, she answered, “It will.” “Great. What do you want to do after getting home?” “I haven’t thought about it. I’ll pay off the debt, and then…” She paused for a few moments to think. “I don’t know. I’m really not sure.” Her response lacked any sense of self-direction. During the game, Kinko had decisively acted off her individual judgment, but Yuki sensed no inconsistencies with her current attitude. Most likely, she was someone who could only truly be independent within clearly established frameworks. The kind of person who did well on tests but had a hard time putting things into practice. The kind who got along with coworkers and bosses but had trouble communicating with family. The kind who excelled at death games but lacked life skills. She, like Yuki, had the qualities of a player. “There’s nothing you have to fret about,” Yuki said encouragingly. “What happened to Aoi isn’t your fault. The game killed her. Nobody has any right to blame you, legally or morally. You should go back to your old life with your head held high.” Kinko gave no response. “This goes back to what I was saying before,” Yuki continued, “but I think you should be more dishonest. Having some meanness inside is what gives depth to people. Isn’t that right, Momono?” “Why are you asking me?” Momono asked with a troubled expression. “I mean… What choice did I have? It was what the situation called for.” Her response was remarkably candid. Yuki grinned. Yuki hadn’t said that to offer momentary comfort. It was what she believed deep down. Death games shined light on the vile side of humans. That was evident in how the four of them were contentedly walking down the hallway despite having failed to save Kokuto or Aoi, how they seemed like they would be friends forever despite having desperately fought over the key ring, and how Momono was trying to play down her behavior despite having wanted to abandon Kinko. However, Yuki didn’t think those qualities were immoral, insincere, or anything that should be purified. They were what made the girls adorable. “…Do you really think so?” Kinko muttered. “Yeah. One hundred percent.” “Then if I survive…I’ll do my best to be that way.” That brought the conversation to an end. The four girls finally reached what appeared to be the exit. It was a set of large double doors. Yuki took the lead once again, grabbed the handles of both doors, and pushed hard. They didn’t budge. Then she tried pulling them, but just like before, they stayed put. Yuki looked up. Three light bulbs were lined up in a row above the doors. (21/23) The position of the bulbs reminded Yuki of the floor display above an elevator. But since they had just taken one, it was unlikely they would run into another so soon. Two of the bulbs were lit, and it was easy to conclude the door would open once the third activated. And the most notable point of interest was that each of the three bulbs was shaped like a human silhouette with an X mark over it. “……” Someone let out an audible gulp. It was as if someone had drawn human body diagrams onto red traffic lights. There were three lined up in a row. Two were lit. Anyone would naturally conclude that the door would open once the last one turned on. But—what exactly did that mean? “Ha!” Somebody laughed. It was Momono. “Let’s not get the wrong idea. Just because they’re shaped like people doesn’t mean that. There should be some way around this.” She shot a glance at Yuki, who offered no response. “Maybe these represent the number of obstacles,” Beniya added. “The hexagonal room and that elevator make two, so this means we need to face a third. I wonder if there’s one somewhere in this hall.” Yuki thought that unlikely. Three obstacles were too many for a game with only six players, and that theory offered no explanation for the X marks on the bulbs. While the games often pulled tricks on players, they would never deliberately cause misunderstanding. The shape of the bulbs had to hold an important meaning. So what, exactly? There was only one reasonable explanation. Yuki didn’t immediately act on her thoughts because a new question sprang to mind. Considering the typical survival rate of 70 percent, the setup of this game was too unforgiving. However, she quickly realized why that was the case. This game was filled with first-time players, and the survival rate of newbies was lower than that of veterans. Thus, when calculating the odds for everyone individually, only allowing three out of six players to survive was well within the expected range. As Yuki had suspected, the strange imbalance of player experience was deliberate. She had, by chance, stumbled upon the explanation that resolved every one of her doubts, and since it neatly explained everything, she felt no need to search for a different interpretation. The temperature of Yuki’s heart fell below freezing. She threw Kinko to the ground. “Ow…” The girl rolled on the floor and stopped on her back. She directed her gaze at Yuki, eyes filled with equal parts bewilderment and optimism that she had been dropped by accident. Her stare showed no hint of criticism. She’s a good girl, Yuki thought, before resting the tip of her crutch on that innocent face. The next moment, she pressed her weight against it. Snap! A sharp, audible sound reverberated through the air. It came from Kinko’s neck. Her neck, her oh so thin and fragile neck, had snapped. As Kinko had already been running on fumes from having shed so much water from her body, she offered no resistance. She didn’t even let out a whimper. Since Kinko hadn’t sustained any visible injuries, there was no need for the Preservation Treatment to kick in. And so, a few seconds later, under only several pounds of force, Kinko passed away. The third bulb lit up. The door swung open. Due to the difference in air pressure, a light, refreshing breeze blew in. The pleasant blue sky and a lush, verdant garden came into view. It was an unwritten rule that the game ended as soon as one exited the building. If she reached the garden, Yuki could freely doze off on the ground. An employee would likely come greet her immediately. Just a few more steps. While hobbling forward on her crutch and remaining leg, Yuki realized she heard no footsteps other than her own and turned around. Two girls stood frozen in place behind her. Their eyes indicated they had witnessed something unspeakable. It was as if they had, quite literally, seen a ghost. Yuki stepped out of the building. She had cleared the game. And now that the game was over, she could finally say it. That was her rule. She looked down, fixing her gaze on Kinko’s silent remains. And then she spoke. “Sorry.” (22/23) She hadn’t deceived anyone. Yuki had truly been aiming to clear the game while keeping as many players alive as possible. Although her attempt could by no means be construed as a success, in her heart of hearts, she’d been earnest in her efforts. She’d acted against Kinko because she had no other choice. She knew the game wouldn’t end until it claimed its third victim. Yuki hadn’t targeted Kinko because she was easy to kill. Nor was it because Kinko had mentioned wanting to die or because Yuki had harbored a special hatred for her. Yuki had chosen her because she was physically the closest. Whenever it became necessary to kill someone during a game, Yuki always chose the person who was nearest to her at the time. That was what she had decided. She’d established this rule to reduce, by however amount, her hesitation at taking another’s life. Rules granted her strength. And in this case, they’d given her the courage to kill with her own hands someone she had saved, someone to whom she had offered words of encouragement. In the end, Yuki failed to make it in time for garbage day. After being carried by an employee into an ambulance, she lost consciousness, and the next time she woke, she was in her apartment. She grabbed the cell phone next to her pillow. To her dismay, it was noon on Friday. She set a timer for three minutes, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands together. This was her post-game ritual—a prayer. Since Yuki was not familiar with any religion, it was in her own style. The term prayer may have been an inapt description; she was not offering an apology to the girls who had perished during the game, nor was she expressing sorrow. She simply devoted those three minutes to thinking about them. Perhaps it was foolish to offer a prayer to someone she had killed herself, but at the very least, Yuki felt no inconsistency with doing so. When the default timer sound went off, she opened her eyes. She switched off the timer, tossed her cell phone on the floor, and removed her clothes to check her body. There were no wounds to be found, nor was there any issue with her mobility. Checking to see if her body had been fully restored was the second ritual she did after coming back from a game. She rose on two legs and began her third ritual. She went over and opened the double closet doors that came with her apartment. The inside was a mess. Hanging on the far right was a cheerleader uniform. That was the outfit used in her twenty-seventh game. Left of that was a kimono, which was used in her twenty-sixth game. And to the left of that hung a school swimsuit, graveclothes, an army uniform, gym clothes, a cheongsam, and more. On the far left was a sailor-style uniform. However, that was not the outfit used in her first game. Yuki would occasionally take out outfits to reflect on her past games, so the order had been shuffled. Yuki turned around. The maid costume was neatly folded beside her pillow. Once a game ended, the outfit used would be presented to her as a gift. Even though she had cut it into shreds in front of the elevator, it had been restored to its original state. Feeling grateful, she hung it up in the far right of the closet as a memento of her twenty-eighth game. That was her third important ritual. And the time for the fourth was approaching. Since her mistakes had been on full display for the audience to witness this time, the ritual would likely take longer than usual. Yuki went to lie down on her mattress and wrapped herself in a nearby blanket. Cocooned in that warmth, she began to reflect on her most recent game. (23/23)