60: Barefoot Emperor

Rena!! Get everyone out of there—now!!

Tom’s voice, almost a scream, echoed through Rena’s mind like a sudden jolt.
Without hesitation—almost as if she had anticipated it—she wrapped her arms protectively around the children.
The golden frog had been the signal.
It wasn’t just a strange occurrence—it had stirred something in the air, something instinctive.

“That voice… Tom, it was you, wasn’t it!?” she gasped, eyes darting.
“Of course it wasn’t going to end peacefully… it never does.”

“What’s wrong, big sis?” little Tom asked, startled.
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything dangerous again!”

“Ow, you’re squeezing me too tight! Geez—Tom, you too!
Why are both of you so strong!?” little Rena protested, flailing in her arms.

Tom’s perspective returned to ground level, watching the group from behind.
Just as he moved to circle around them, little Rena suddenly pointed toward the pond.

“Look! Someone’s floating in the water!”

Everyone turned to face the pond.

Dan—silent and terrifying—was lying face-up atop the surface.
Slowly, he pressed a hand down and lifted his torso as if rising from a bed.
The water beneath him didn’t ripple.
It supported his weight like solid ground.

It looked so unnaturally stable that for a moment, little Tom wondered if it was just shallow water.

“He’s… standing on the pond!?” little Tom shouted.
“Wait… is he holding something?”

“That man… it really is Dan.
And that thing he’s holding…”

Rena’s eyes locked onto the object in Dan’s hand.
Faintly glowing. Familiar. Unmistakable.

A wave of unease hit little Tom.
He looked up at Rena’s face—and saw something in her expression that told him the situation was serious.
He took her hand. Then he reached for little Rena’s hand, and pressed all three together.

“It’s gonna be okay, big sis.
We’ve come this far, right?
No matter what happens… we’ll be fine. We have to be…”

“Tom… your hand’s shaking!” little Rena whispered.
“Even holding both our hands… you’re still scared?”

Seeing their trembling hands, Rena knew she had to act fast.
There were no good places to hide around the pond—but a plan began to form in her mind.

“Tom-kun,” she said gently, “we need to go back. To that place we were before… that in-between world.
If you still have your Mill device, we can get there. You can take Rena-chan with you.”

As she spoke, the older Tom—still unseen by the others—felt a spark within him.
A connection. A memory.
He saw Rena, eyes covered by a red cloth, and his own hand clutching the device.
He remembered the moment he was pulled through the mirror… and arrived here.

Then, as if passing through his body, the words came out of little Tom’s mouth.

“Rena! I have this!
This red cape—it can protect us.
Even the younger you—Rena-chan!”

“Huh…? Tom-kun… That way of speaking, you’re…”

Little Tom pulled a crumpled red cloth from his pocket and proudly held it out to her.

“With this, we’ll be okay!
So don’t worry, big sis—just focus on what’s in front of you!”

His sudden shift in tone made Rena freeze for a moment.
But something in her heart clicked.
She placed a gentle hand on his head.

“Thank you… little hero.
Take care of her—and of myself.”

In that moment, she knew.
The real Tom had spoken through his younger self.
And just like that, the fear she’d been carrying was gone.

Her resolve solidified.
She turned to face the figure now standing above the pond—
the one who had haunted them from the start.

-I’ve just gotten myself a new pair of shoes.-

Dan’s voice cut through their thoughts like a knife.

It didn’t come from his mouth, yet it echoed in the minds of everyone present.
A chilling silence fell over the area.
The pressure in the air was unbearable.
Even as her instincts screamed to look away, Rena forced herself to face him.

Dan stood barefoot atop the surface, dressed in a pristine black suit.
In his hand, he held a faintly glowing object—
but now, he let it rest gently on the water.

“Girl…
You made me fall.
You dirtied the soles of my feet.
So I made sure to scrub them—carefully. Thoroughly.
Now, these new socks…
they’ll feel even better going on.”

And with that, Dan began to put on his socks.
Gracefully. One foot at a time.
His balance was flawless.
The water beneath him barely rippled, holding him as if enchanted.

Then he pulled out a small shoehorn from his coat pocket and slipped into his shoes with deliberate care.
Every movement was precise. Fluid.
Perfectly composed.

As if this moment—this calm before the storm—
was merely the opening act of a much greater, far more terrible performance.