Prologue — The Tower That Remembers

kebukuro never slept.

Even after midnight, the neon veins of the district pulsed with life—arcades humming, trains sighing through tunnels, drunk laughter dissolving into the night air. From the streets below, **Sunshine 60** stood like a quiet titan of glass and steel, towering above Sunshine City.

To tourists, it was beautiful.

To locals, it was convenient.

To those who knew the stories…

…it was something else.

Because before the tower rose sixty stories into the sky, the ground beneath it belonged to **Sugamo Prison**.

A place where men waited to die.

After the war, thousands of prisoners passed through its iron gates. Some were soldiers. Some were criminals.

Seven were executed at dawn.

The prison vanished decades ago.

But people whispered that **the dead never left**.

Construction workers in the 1970s claimed they heard footsteps echoing through unfinished floors. Others swore they saw shadowy figures standing behind them in reflective glass.

Elevators stopped at floors no one had pressed.

Security cameras captured empty hallways where shapes seemed to move just out of frame.

And sometimes—late at night—people saw **floating balls of fire drifting around the tower**.

Visitors called them urban legends.

Employees called them **warnings**.

Because people who went exploring the tower after hours…

Sometimes disappeared.

And when they did—

Sunshine 60 simply continued watching.

---

Chapter 1 — The Boy Who Heard the Cry

Shiki Chisaki hated night shifts.

Not because of the work.

But because of the silence.

At seventeen, he was too young to legally work full-time, but the small convenience kiosk inside Sunshine City didn’t care. They needed someone to cover the graveyard shift, and Shiki needed money.

So every Friday and Saturday night, he sat behind the counter with a dim lamp above him, surrounded by humming refrigerators and flickering fluorescent lights.

Midnight had already passed.

The shopping complex was empty now.

Only security guards and cleaning staff wandered the corridors.

Shiki leaned on the counter, scrolling his phone lazily.

Another hour.

Then he could close.

That was when he heard it.

A scream.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just—

A woman’s voice outside the glass entrance.

“Please…!”

Shiki froze.

The sound was sharp enough to cut through the empty mall.

His heart began pounding.

He stood up quickly and stepped out from behind the counter.

The corridor lights buzzed softly overhead.

“Hello?” he called.

No answer.

But the feeling came.

That same feeling people talked about when they mentioned Sunshine 60.

The sensation that something unseen was **standing behind you**.

Watching.

Shiki walked slowly toward the main entrance doors that led outside into the plaza.

His footsteps echoed.

“Is someone there?” he asked.

The glass doors slid open with a mechanical hiss.

Cool night air rushed inside.

Shiki stepped out.

The plaza was empty.

No woman.

No footsteps.

No one.

Only the towering silhouette of **Sunshine 60** looming above him like a black spear piercing the sky.

Shiki frowned.

“…Weird.”

Maybe he imagined it.

But then—

He felt it again.

A strange pressure crawling up the back of his neck.

The overwhelming sensation that the building above him…

Was staring down.

Watching every movement.

Waiting.

Shiki quickly stepped back inside.

“Yeah… screw that,” he muttered.

The doors slid shut.

But just before they closed completely—

Something moved in the reflection of the glass.

A figure.

Standing behind him.

Tall.

Motionless.

Shiki spun around.

Nothing.

Only the empty corridor.

His heartbeat thumped in his ears.

“…I’m tired,” he whispered.

That had to be it.

Just exhaustion.

He turned back toward the kiosk.

But then the entrance doors opened again.

This time, real voices filled the hallway.

Loud.

Laughing.

A group of five high school students walked inside, their backpacks slung over their shoulders.

Shiki recognized the type immediately.

Delinquents.

Night explorers.

The girl in front—short hair, confident grin—clapped her hands together.

“Alright! This is the place.”

One of the boys groaned.

“You’re serious about this?”

“Of course I am,” she said proudly. “Sunshine 60 is the most haunted building in Tokyo.”

Another boy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, ghosts of executed war criminals. I’ve heard the story.”

Shiki felt a chill crawl through his spine.

He pretended to organize snacks behind the counter while listening carefully.

The confident girl leaned against the kiosk.

“You know people disappear here, right?”

The others laughed nervously.

“That’s an internet rumor.”

“Nope,” she said.

Her voice lowered.

“Three people last year. Two college students and a tourist.”

Shiki’s hands froze.

He hadn’t heard that.

“Police said they probably ran away,” one boy said.

“But they never found them,” the girl replied.

Silence hung over the group.

Then one of them smirked.

“So what’s the plan?”

Her grin widened.

“We go inside.”

She pointed toward the towering building beyond the glass.

“After midnight, the upper floors are basically empty.”

Another boy swallowed.

“You mean… break in?”

She shrugged.

“It’s called urban exploration.”

Shiki stepped forward before he could stop himself.

“…Don’t.”

The group looked at him.

The girl tilted her head.

“Don’t what?”

Shiki hesitated.

He wasn’t sure why he spoke.

But the words came anyway.

“Don’t go in there tonight.”

They stared.

“Why?” one of them asked.

Shiki glanced toward the tower through the glass doors.

The top floors were barely visible through the darkness.

“…I heard something earlier.”

The group exchanged amused looks.

“A ghost?” one boy teased.

Shiki didn’t laugh.

“I heard someone screaming outside.”

That made them pause.

“But when I went to check…” he said quietly.

“No one was there.”

The confident girl grinned again.

“That’s perfect.”

She turned to the others.

“You hear that? The haunting already started.”

The boy beside her chuckled nervously.

“Maybe we shouldn’t—”

She grabbed his arm.

“Relax. It’ll be fun.”

Then she looked back at Shiki.

“You wanna come?”

Shiki blinked.

“What?”

“You heard it first,” she said. “You’re basically part of the story now.”

Shiki shook his head immediately.

“No thanks.”

She shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

The group turned and headed toward the plaza.

The sliding doors opened.

Cold wind rushed inside.

Shiki watched them leave.

Five silhouettes walking toward the base of **Sunshine 60**.

Something twisted in his stomach.

The tower’s windows reflected faint city lights.

For a moment—

He thought he saw shapes moving inside the dark glass.

Watching.

Waiting.

Shiki suddenly remembered the scream again.

The woman’s voice.

The desperation.

“…Please.”

A sick realization crawled into his mind.

What if…

That scream…

Wasn’t meant for him?

But for **them**.

Shiki grabbed his jacket.

“…Dammit.”

He locked the kiosk and ran after the group.

Outside, the wind howled softly between the buildings.

The students had already reached the entrance of Sunshine 60.

The confident girl pushed the door open.

The lobby lights flickered once.

Then steadied.

As they stepped inside—

Every light on the **60th floor** turned on simultaneously.

Shiki stopped running.

His blood turned cold.

High above them…

A row of windows glowed like eyes opening in the dark.

And for the briefest second—

Something inside the tower

looked down

and **smiled**.

Sunshine 60: The Watching Tower

Chapter 1 (Part 2) — The Floor That Should Not Exist

The doors of Sunshine 60 closed behind them with a quiet **thud**.

Shiki stood outside for a moment, staring at the glass entrance.

Something about the way the doors shut felt… wrong.

Not automatic.

Intentional.

Like the building had just **accepted** them.

“Hey!”

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

The short-haired girl from the group leaned halfway out of the door and waved.

“You coming or what?”

Shiki hesitated.

Everything inside him told him to go back to the kiosk.

Lock the doors.

Pretend he never saw them.

But the image of that scream replayed in his mind again.

*Please…*

He stepped forward.

“Just… don’t do anything stupid,” he muttered.

The girl grinned.

“No promises.”

---

**The Lobby**

The lobby of the tower was enormous.

Even this late at night the lights were still on, casting long sterile reflections across the marble floor.

Rows of dark elevators lined the far wall.

The place should have felt safe.

But it didn’t.

The air felt heavier inside the building—like stepping into deep water.

One of the boys whispered,

“Why is it so quiet?”

Because it was.

No air conditioning hum.

No footsteps.

No distant machinery.

Just silence.

The girl clapped her hands together once.

“Alright! Exploration time.”

One of the boys looked nervous.

“Maybe we should just check the observation deck and leave.”

“Closed at night,” she replied.

“Then what’s the plan?” another asked.

Her eyes gleamed.

“We go up.”

She pointed at the elevator bank.

Shiki immediately shook his head.

“Those stop running after midnight.”

“Good,” she said.

“That means no one will stop us.”

One of the boys walked up to the elevator panel and pressed the call button.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again.

Still nothing.

“See?” Shiki said. “They’re off.”

The group groaned.

But then—

**Ding.**

Everyone froze.

One of the elevators lit up.

The doors slowly slid open.

No one had pressed a button.

Cold air drifted out of the elevator interior.

One of the students whispered,

“…Okay that’s creepy.”

The confident girl laughed nervously.

“Probably security resetting the system.”

Shiki didn’t move.

His eyes were locked on the digital floor indicator above the elevator.

It displayed only one number.

**60**

But the elevator had come from **below**, not above.

That was impossible.

“Let’s go,” the girl said.

Before anyone could object, she stepped inside.

The others reluctantly followed.

Shiki stayed where he was.

“Seriously, don’t—”

The doors began closing.

One of the boys grabbed them.

“Hey! You’re coming too!”

Before Shiki could protest, he was pulled inside.

The doors sealed shut.

---

**The Ascent**

The elevator lights flickered softly.

For a moment no one spoke.

Then the girl leaned over the panel.

“…Wait.”

She frowned.

“There’s only one button.”

Everyone looked.

She was right.

The entire control panel was blank except for a single illuminated button.

**60**

“That’s weird,” one of the boys muttered.

“This is the express elevator,” another guessed.

“Observation deck maybe.”

Shiki’s chest tightened.

But the observation deck closed at 10 PM.

And express elevators don’t run without security authorization.

“Don’t press it,” he said.

The girl looked at him.

“Why?”

“Just don’t.”

She smirked.

“You’re no fun.”

And she pressed it.

---

**THUNK**

The elevator jolted violently.

The lights flickered again.

Then it started moving.

Up.

Fast.

Too fast.

The digital display should have counted floors.

1

2

3

4

But instead it stayed on **60** the entire time.

One of the boys laughed nervously.

“Is it supposed to do that?”

No one answered.

The elevator kept rising.

Shiki felt pressure in his ears.

The ascent felt wrong.

Not like moving up a building.

More like being **pulled upward by something**.

Then the elevator slowed.

It stopped with a soft mechanical click.

The doors opened.

---

## **Floor 60**

The hallway beyond was dark.

Only emergency lights glowed faintly along the floor.

A long corridor stretched forward.

Empty.

Silent.

One of the students whispered,

“Where are the observation windows?”

The girl stepped out first.

“This doesn’t look like a tourist floor…”

The others followed.

Shiki stepped out last.

The elevator doors closed behind them.

Then the elevator left.

No one had pressed a button.

They heard it descending.

The sound faded quickly.

The hallway lights flickered.

The group stood there in uneasy silence.

One of the boys tried opening a door along the wall.

Locked.

Another door.

Locked.

Another.

Locked.

The girl frowned.

“Okay… weird.”

Shiki’s breathing grew slower.

His eyes scanned the hallway.

Something about it felt deeply wrong.

Then he noticed something that made his stomach drop.

The walls.

They weren’t modern office walls.

They were concrete.

Rough.

Old.

And scratched.

Deep gouges ran along the surface like claw marks.

One of the boys suddenly pointed.

“Uh… guys?”

Everyone turned.

At the end of the hallway—

A large iron door stood half open.

Rust covered its surface.

Above the door was a faded sign.

The letters were barely visible.

But Shiki could still read them.

**BLOCK C – EXECUTION WARD**

The group went completely silent.

“That’s… a prank,” someone whispered.

“It has to be.”

The girl laughed nervously.

“Yeah… probably part of a haunted attraction or something.”

Shiki slowly shook his head.

“No.”

His voice trembled.

“This building was finished in 1978.”

They looked at him.

“So?” the girl asked.

Shiki pointed at the sign.

“Sugamo Prison was demolished before construction started.”

His voice lowered.

“That door shouldn’t exist.”

Something creaked inside the corridor.

A sound like **metal chains dragging across concrete**.

Then—

Footsteps.

Slow.

Heavy.

Coming from behind the iron door.

One of the boys whispered,

“…Hello?”

The footsteps stopped.

For several seconds nothing moved.

Then a voice came from the darkness beyond the door.

Hoarse.

Broken.

Old.

“…How many years has it been?”

The group froze.

The voice continued.

“…Did they come to execute me?”

The iron door slowly opened wider on its own.

Inside the darkness—

A figure stood.

Its body was twisted.

Its uniform torn.

And around its neck…

A thick rope burn mark circled the skin.

The ghost lifted its head.

Its empty eyes stared directly at them.

“…Why are there children in the execution ward?”

Behind them—

Every elevator in the building began ringing at once.

**DING**

**DING**

**DING**

**DING**

Shiki’s heart pounded.

Because suddenly he understood something terrifying.

They hadn’t gone **up** to the 60th floor.

They had gone somewhere else.

Somewhere the prison still existed.

Somewhere the dead were still waiting.

And Sunshine 60…

It was the door.

# **Sunshine 60: The Watching Tower**

### **Chapter 1 (Part 3) — Something Is Wrong With The Air**

No one moved.

The figure inside the iron doorway didn’t move either.

The hallway lights flickered again.

Shiki could hear everyone breathing now—short, shallow bursts of panic filling the corridor.

Then the girl with the short hair suddenly laughed.

A loud, sharp laugh.

“…Okay, seriously. Who set this up?”

The tension cracked slightly.

One of the boys exhaled.

“Yeah… yeah, that’s gotta be it.”

He pointed at the figure in the doorway.

“Like one of those haunted attractions.”

The girl crossed her arms confidently.

“Nice try. But the acting needs work.”

The figure didn’t respond.

It simply stood there.

Head tilted slightly downward.

Unmoving.

The silence stretched.

A second.

Two seconds.

Three.

One of the boys finally stepped forward.

“…Hey man, we get it.”

He waved his hand casually.

“You’re supposed to scare us.”

No reaction.

The boy took another step.

Shiki felt something twist in his stomach.

“Don’t,” he said quietly.

The boy glanced back.

“Relax.”

Another step closer to the door.

The ghost—or actor, or whatever it was—still didn’t move.

The girl whispered,

“See? Probably a mannequin.”

That explanation spread through the group like oxygen.

A prop.

Of course.

Someone set up a creepy exhibit about the prison.

That made sense.

It had to make sense.

The boy finally reached the doorway.

He leaned forward and waved his hand in front of the figure’s face.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

He laughed.

“Told you.”

Then he poked it.

The moment his finger touched the figure’s shoulder—

The hallway lights **completely shut off.**

Darkness swallowed everything.

Someone screamed.

A girl.

Another voice shouted,

“What the hell?!”

Shiki’s heart slammed in his chest.

For half a second, the entire world was pitch black.

Then the emergency lights flickered back on.

Dim red illumination filled the corridor.

Everyone was still there.

Exactly where they had been.

The boy who poked the figure jumped back.

“Jesus!”

The others rushed toward him.

“What happened?!”

He pointed at the figure.

“I didn’t even push it that hard!”

The figure had moved.

Its head now tilted slightly to the side.

One of the girls whispered,

“…Did it move before?”

No one answered.

The short-haired girl forced another laugh.

“Animatronic maybe?”

The boy rubbed his arm nervously.

“…Yeah. Probably.”

But his voice wasn’t convincing anymore.

Shiki watched the figure carefully.

Something about its posture felt unnatural.

Not aggressive.

Not threatening.

Just…

Patient.

Like it had been waiting for something.

Then the figure slowly raised one arm.

The group collectively gasped.

But the arm stopped halfway.

Frozen.

It hung there awkwardly, fingers curled like stiff wires.

And then—

It dropped again.

Limp.

The girl sighed loudly.

“Okay, that scared me for a second.”

One of the boys nodded quickly.

“Same.”

Shiki didn’t relax.

He was staring at the floor.

The concrete ground was dusty.

Old.

Untouched.

Except for something strange.

There were footprints.

Fresh ones.

Six sets.

Their group.

But something else bothered him.

He counted them again.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Shiki slowly looked back at the others.

Five students.

And him.

Six people.

His throat tightened.

He counted again.

Seven footprints.

The seventh set was older.

But still visible.

And they led directly to the iron door.

Then stopped.

As if the person had simply vanished.

“Hey,” one of the boys said suddenly.

Everyone turned.

He was staring down the hallway behind them.

“…Was this place always this long?”

They looked.

The corridor stretched far behind them.

Much farther than before.

Shiki was sure of it.

When they stepped out of the elevator, the hallway had only gone back maybe twenty meters.

Now it seemed endless.

The emergency lights formed a red trail fading into darkness.

The short-haired girl frowned.

“…Okay that’s weird.”

One of the boys chuckled nervously.

“Maybe we just didn’t notice.”

“Yeah,” another said quickly. “Perspective thing.”

No one sounded convinced.

Shiki felt the same strange pressure return.

That crawling sensation along the back of his neck.

The feeling of being watched.

Except now…

It wasn’t just the tower watching.

Something else was too.

He turned his head slowly.

The figure at the door hadn’t moved again.

Still silent.

Still staring.

But now Shiki noticed something that made his pulse spike.

The rope mark around its neck wasn’t just a bruise.

It looked deep.

Like the flesh had once been crushed inward.

He forced himself to look away.

“Maybe we should go back,” he said quietly.

The group hesitated.

The short-haired girl glanced between the hallway and the iron door.

Then she shrugged.

“Yeah… let’s check the elevator again.”

Everyone nodded quickly.

That decision seemed to lift the tension slightly.

They began walking back down the corridor.

Shiki stayed at the back.

He glanced once more at the iron door.

The figure was still there.

Standing silently.

Watching them leave.

For a moment—

Shiki almost felt bad.

Like they were abandoning someone.

Then the hallway lights flickered again.

He blinked.

The figure was gone.

Shiki stopped walking.

“…Wait.”

The others turned.

“What?”

Shiki slowly looked back toward the iron door.

It was still open.

But the doorway was empty now.

The boy who had poked the figure laughed nervously.

“Guess the actor went on break.”

Another boy added,

“Or the animatronic reset.”

The group chuckled weakly.

False relief spreading through them again.

But Shiki’s stomach sank.

Because he had just realized something else.

If the figure had walked away…

There should have been footprints in the dust.

He stared at the floor.

The dust near the door was untouched.

No new footprints.

Nothing.

Which meant the figure hadn’t walked away.

It had simply…

Disappeared.

Before he could say anything—

A loud **DING** echoed through the hallway.

Everyone jumped.

At the far end of the corridor behind them—

The elevator doors slid open.

Bright white light spilled into the red hallway.

The group sighed in relief.

“Oh thank god.”

“Finally.”

The short-haired girl grinned.

“See? Easy escape.”

They all started walking toward it.

But Shiki stayed where he was.

Something about the elevator light felt wrong.

Too bright.

Too clean compared to the decaying hallway.

The others stepped inside.

“Come on!” one of them called.

Shiki slowly approached.

Just before he entered, he glanced once more toward the iron door.

Still empty.

No figure.

No movement.

Nothing.

He stepped inside the elevator.

The doors closed.

The panel lit up.

But this time—

There were dozens of buttons.

Floors 1 through 60.

Everyone relaxed instantly.

“See?” the girl said.

“Normal elevator.”

One of the boys laughed.

“Man, that was a good prank.”

Another boy pressed **1**.

The elevator began descending.

Everyone finally started breathing normally again.

Shiki leaned against the wall.

Maybe it really had just been some weird attraction.

Maybe their minds had filled in the creepy details.

Maybe—

Then he noticed something.

The elevator mirror.

It reflected everyone standing inside.

Six people.

Except…

Shiki counted again.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

There were **seven reflections** in the mirror.

But only six people in the elevator.

He slowly turned his head.

Everyone stood exactly where they had been.

No one extra.

His heartbeat thundered.

He looked back at the mirror.

The seventh reflection stood in the back corner.

Head tilted.

Neck bent at an unnatural angle.

The rope mark around its throat looked darker now.

It was staring directly at Shiki.

Then the elevator lights flickered.

And when they came back—

There were only six reflections again.

No one else noticed.

One of the boys laughed.

“Dude imagine if a ghost got in the elevator with us.”

Everyone chuckled.

Shiki didn’t.

Because deep down…

He had the terrible feeling that someone already had.

And Sunshine 60…

Had just **welcomed another passenger**.

# **Sunshine 60: The Watching Tower**

## **Chapter 2 — The One Who Stayed Behind**

The elevator descended smoothly.

Too smoothly.

The earlier tension slowly dissolved inside the metal box as the group relaxed.

One of the boys stretched his arms over his head.

“Man… I actually thought we were dead for a second.”

Another laughed.

“Same. That animatronic was freaky though.”

The short-haired girl smirked.

“See? Worth it.”

The digital display above the door flickered.

60

59

58

57

Shiki stared at the numbers.

They felt… slow.

The elevator seemed to glide downward like it was floating rather than moving.

Almost silent.

The only sound inside was the soft **hummmmm** of the motor.

And breathing.

Too much breathing.

Shiki forced himself to look away from the mirror.

He didn’t want to check the reflections again.

The boy who had poked the “ghost” earlier leaned against the wall beside him.

“…Hey.”

Shiki glanced over.

“You saw something earlier, right?” the boy whispered.

Shiki didn’t answer immediately.

“…Maybe.”

The boy rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah… me too.”

Shiki looked at him.

The boy avoided eye contact.

“When the lights went out,” he continued quietly, “I felt someone standing behind me.”

“Someone?”

“Yeah.”

“But everyone was in front of you.”

The boy nodded slowly.

“…Exactly.”

Shiki didn’t respond.

The elevator dinged softly.

**Floor 42**

Someone yawned.

“Almost back.”

Then—

The elevator stopped.

Abruptly.

Not a gentle stop.

A hard mechanical **CLUNK**.

Everyone lurched slightly.

The lights flickered.

Then stabilized.

The display above the door read:

**40**

But the doors didn’t open.

One of the girls frowned.

“Uh… why did it stop?”

The short-haired girl pressed the **1** button again.

Nothing happened.

Another boy pressed **Door Open**.

Still nothing.

The elevator sat motionless.

The hum of the motor had stopped.

Now the only sound was the faint electrical buzz of the lights.

“Great,” someone muttered.

“We’re stuck.”

Another boy laughed weakly.

“Guess we’ll have to call security.”

He pressed the emergency button.

No response.

Static crackled through the speaker.

Then silence.

Shiki felt that crawling sensation again.

The one that made his skin feel too tight.

The elevator suddenly **dinged**.

Everyone looked up.

The display changed.

**41**

The doors slid open.

Beyond them was darkness.

A hallway dimly lit by weak fluorescent lights.

It looked… normal.

Carpeted floors.

Office doors.

A fire exit sign glowing green at the far end.

The group collectively sighed in relief.

“Oh thank god.”

“Finally.”

The boy nearest the door stepped out.

“Let’s just take the stairs.”

Everyone quickly followed.

Shiki stepped out last.

The elevator doors remained open behind them.

One of the boys turned around.

“Should we leave it open?”

Before anyone could answer—

The doors slowly closed on their own.

**DING**

The elevator left.

Descending into darkness again.

---

## **The Hallway**

The office floor looked abandoned.

Lights flickered lazily overhead.

Rows of cubicles stretched across the open workspace beyond the corridor.

Computer monitors sat dark and silent.

Someone whispered,

“Are we allowed to be here?”

The short-haired girl shrugged.

“It’s just an office floor.”

One of the boys chuckled.

“Honestly after that prison hallway this place feels normal.”

Another agreed.

“Yeah. Way less creepy.”

Shiki wasn’t so sure.

The air felt stale.

Like no one had been here for a long time.

He noticed something strange.

Every desk chair was pushed out slightly.

As if someone had just stood up from every workstation at the same time.

The group walked slowly through the office space.

Their footsteps were soft against the carpet.

One of the girls stopped beside a cubicle.

“Huh.”

She pointed.

A coffee cup sat on the desk.

The liquid inside looked fresh.

Steam curled faintly upward.

“That’s weird,” she said.

“Someone must still be working late,” one of the boys said.

But the entire floor was silent.

No typing.

No phones ringing.

Nothing.

The boy who had poked the ghost earlier laughed nervously.

“…Maybe we should go.”

Everyone agreed quickly.

The stairwell was visible at the end of the floor.

They began heading toward it.

That was when someone said—

“Wait.”

They turned.

One of the boys was missing.

“…Where’s Taku?”

Silence.

They looked around the cubicles.

“Taku?” someone called.

No answer.

The short-haired girl frowned.

“He was right behind us.”

They retraced their steps.

Walking back through the maze of desks.

“Taku!” one of the boys shouted.

A faint sound echoed from deeper inside the office.

**Tap.**

They froze.

Another sound.

**Tap… tap… tap…**

Like fingernails gently tapping a desk.

The girl whispered,

“…Taku?”

The tapping stopped.

Then came a soft dragging sound.

**shhhhhk**

Like something being pulled across the carpet.

Shiki’s chest tightened.

“Maybe he’s messing with us,” one of the boys said weakly.

They moved toward the sound.

Row after row of cubicles passed.

Then they saw him.

Taku stood at the far end of the office floor.

His back faced them.

He stood completely still.

“Taku!” the girl called.

No response.

The boy beside her laughed nervously.

“Bro, cut it out.”

Still nothing.

They approached slowly.

“Taku?”

Shiki felt something wrong immediately.

Taku’s posture looked strange.

His shoulders were slightly raised.

His head tilted downward.

Like he was staring at something on the floor.

“Dude,” one of the boys said, walking closer.

“You’re freaking everyone out.”

Taku finally spoke.

His voice was quiet.

“…Do you hear that?”

Everyone stopped.

“Hear what?” the girl asked.

Silence filled the office.

Then—

A faint sound reached them.

**creak**

Everyone looked up.

The ceiling above Taku shifted slightly.

Another sound.

**creak… creak…**

Like a rope tightening under weight.

Shiki’s heart began pounding.

“Taku…” he whispered.

But Taku didn’t move.

“…Someone’s above me,” Taku murmured.

Then he slowly looked up.

Everyone followed his gaze.

The ceiling tile directly above him bulged slightly.

Then it moved.

Something was pushing down from above.

The tile cracked.

Dust sprinkled into the air.

And then—

A pale hand slipped through the broken panel.

The fingers were long.

The skin stretched tight over bone.

Dark rope burns circled the wrist.

The group screamed.

But Taku didn’t move.

He stared upward in a strange trance.

The hand descended slowly.

Too slowly.

Fingers curling.

Reaching.

“Taku move!” someone shouted.

But he didn’t react.

The hand wrapped around his head.

Everyone heard it.

The sound.

**CRK**

Like someone snapping a thick branch.

Taku’s body jerked violently.

Blood sprayed across the cubicle walls.

The hand yanked upward.

His body lifted off the ground with horrifying ease.

His neck twisted backward at a sickening angle.

Then—

**RIP**

The ceiling panel exploded apart.

Something dragged Taku’s body into the darkness above.

His legs kicked wildly for a second.

Shoes scraping the cubicle walls.

Then his scream began.

It wasn’t loud at first.

Just a choking gasp.

Then it grew.

A raw, animal shriek of pain.

**“AAAAAAAH—”**

His voice abruptly cut off.

But the sounds continued above the ceiling.

Wet tearing.

**RIP**

**CRUNCH**

**SLRRK**

Something heavy shifted through the crawlspace.

The group stood frozen in horror.

Blood began dripping from the broken ceiling tile.

Slow.

Thick.

**drip**

**drip**

**drip**

Then something fell from the hole.

It landed on the carpet with a soft **thud**.

Everyone stared.

It was Taku’s hand.

Still twitching.

The fingers slowly curled inward once.

Then stopped moving.

No one spoke.

No one breathed.

The office floor was completely silent again.

Except for one sound.

Footsteps above the ceiling.

Slow.

Dragging.

Moving across the crawlspace.

Following them.

Shiki finally whispered the only thought anyone could form.

“…It’s hunting us.”