Rishiro and Aiko moved through the shrine in silence.
Their footsteps echoed softly across the worn wooden floor.
Neither of them spoke.
Not after what had just happened.
The air inside the shrine felt colder now. Heavier. Like the building itself had noticed they had escaped once.
Aiko stayed a step behind him, still pale.
Rishiro walked ahead with one hand in his pocket, the other hanging loosely by his side, like none of this bothered him.
Then the mist rose again.
Thin strands at first.
Then thicker.
Whiter.
It poured across the floorboards and climbed the walls like it was alive.
Aiko stopped.
"…Again?"
Rishiro looked ahead.
"…Yeah."
His voice was flat.
"…Knew this place wasn't done being annoying."
The mist swallowed the corridor.
The shrine walls blurred.
The wooden floor beneath them warped.
And then—
everything vanished.
Aiko was back in that room.
Small.
Dark.
Broken.
The same cracked walls.
The same stale smell of dust and alcohol.
Her whole body went cold.
"No…"
The sliding door creaked open.
Footsteps entered.
Slow.
Dragging.
Her father stepped inside.
Same filthy clothes.
Same rotten smile.
Same eyes.
Aiko stumbled back so fast her heel scraped against the floor.
He was dead.
She knew he was dead.
But the illusion didn't care.
"There you are," he said.
Her breathing turned sharp and uneven.
"No…"
He came closer.
"You always make that face."
His smile widened.
"That scared little face."
Aiko covered her ears, but the voices were already there.
Ungrateful.
Dirty.
Worthless.
You killed him.
You wanted to.
Her knees hit the floor.
"Stop…"
The knife gleamed from the corner of the room.
That same knife.
That same night.
The figure wearing her father's face looked toward it, then back at her.
"What?"
He laughed softly.
"You think doing it once made you strong?"
The voices crashed down harder.
Murderer.
Monster.
You're just like him.
Then—
another voice cut through the room.
Dry.
Cold.
"…Keep talking."
Aiko's eyes widened.
Rishiro stood there, staring at the figure.
His face was unreadable.
His voice came again, lower this time.
"…Go on."
He took one step forward.
Then another.
"…See what happens next."
The figure wearing her father's face froze.
For the first time, its grin twitched.
Aiko stared.
The room itself seemed to hesitate.
Then the walls cracked.
The room twisted.
The illusion around her began to collapse.
Aiko looked around in shock.
"…Wait—these aren't mine—"
She turned—
And the darkness behind Rishiro opened.
His illusion.
A black void spread behind him like an endless pit.
Cold.
Heavy.
Breathing.
The room behind him disappeared into it completely.
Then the voices began.
Soft at first.
Then closer.
Sharper.
You never mattered.
Aiko froze.
Rishiro went still.
Why can't you be like him?
His fingers twitched once.
That was all.
From the black void, a figure slowly began to form.
At first it was just a blur.
A shape in the dark.
Then little by little—
it became the outline of a woman.
Slim.
Still.
Watching him.
Aiko's breath caught.
She couldn't see the face clearly.
The mist wouldn't allow it.
But something about that figure felt horribly familiar.
Not violent like hers.
Not monstrous.
Not loud.
Just cold.
The voice came again.
Closer now.
More human.
Why can't you be like him?
Rishiro's jaw tightened.
The woman-shaped figure took one slow step forward.
Wrong one.
Useless.
You should've been him.
Aiko looked at Rishiro.
For the first time since she had met him—
he looked truly still.
Not calm.
Not casual.
Just still.
Like every part of him had locked around something old and poisonous.
Then he looked up.
At the figure.
At the thing trying to wear that shape.
His face was unreadable.
But his eyes weren't.
They were sharp.
Dangerously sharp.
He took one step forward.
Then another.
"…Keep talking," he said quietly.
The woman-shaped figure remained where it was.
The mist around it thickened.
Rishiro's gaze darkened.
"…See what happens next."
For the first time, the figure hesitated.
Its outline flickered.
The darkness behind Rishiro deepened.
The voices crashed harder.
Forgotten.
Not enough.
Never enough.
Aiko's breath caught.
Even the illusion itself seemed unstable now.
Like whatever was buried inside Rishiro was too jagged for it to hold properly.
Rishiro's mouth curved into a small, cold smile.
"…That got your attention?"
The walls cracked.
The room splintered.
The mist began tearing apart.
Rishiro grabbed Aiko's wrist.
"Move."
The woman-shaped figure twisted as the illusion collapsed, its voice breaking apart into something inhuman as it echoed through the darkness—
You can never escape your past… liar.
Then—
light.
Both of them stumbled out onto the shrine floor.
Aiko caught herself with her hands.
Rishiro landed beside her, then quickly pushed himself back up.
The mist was gone.
The corridor had returned.
Silent.
Still.
Aiko looked up at him.
For a moment, she just stared.
Then, carefully—
"…Um…"
Her voice came out softer than usual.
"…Are you okay?"
Rishiro didn't look at her.
He just started walking again.
"…Nothing."
A short pause.
Then, without turning back—
"Come on."
His voice was flat again.
Calm again.
"We're almost out."
Aiko slowly stood.
Then followed him.
The shrine stayed silent behind them.
But now the silence felt different.
Like it had seen enough.
And was waiting for what came next.
End of Chapter 47