The night passed without much notice.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Just… steady.
Ren is still sleeping, the soft morning light filtering through the window.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then—
"…my money…"
A short pause.
"…ahem, my dream."
A faint exhale followed. Not quite a laugh, but close enough.
He sat up, stretching slightly. The room around him was quiet, but no longer heavy like before. The air moved more freely now.
The floor is visible.
The window is open.
The space is usable.
It's better than before now. The morning feels nicer when I don't have to wake up when the alarm rings and go to hell—I mean, the office. He murmured.
He stepped out into the main room.
Light was spread evenly across the wooden floor, showing faint scratches and uneven tones. Clean, but not new.
The plaster walls still carried signs of age—slight discolouration, small cracks that hadn't been fixed yet.
But the dust was gone.
Mostly.
A bulb hung from the ceiling, glowing softly.
Electricity—stable.
He reached the kitchen.
Simple.
A working sink.
A small stove.
Utensils arranged neatly, though mismatched.
Water flowed without interruption.
"…that's enough."
He washed his face, the cold water sharp and grounding.
"…better than before. At least I can breathe without dust hitting my face. Still… there's a lot more to do."
After a quick breakfast, he got back to work.
"Yesterday I cleaned and aired out the rooms, but it's not enough. Today, I need to inspect everything properly and figure out what needs to be repaired or fixed."
He started with the floors, pressing his weight carefully over each step. One spot creaked. He stopped.
"Yeah… you're getting fixed," he muttered, tapping it once with his foot.
The walls were next—nothing major, just faint cracks running like thin lines. He traced one with his finger, then sighed.
"Not today."
He checked the windows, sliding them open and shut, forcing one that resisted. The frame scraped loudly.
"Of course you do."
By the time he stepped back, he had a rough idea—nothing critical, but plenty that needed fixing—and none of it optional.
He looked around once more and nodded to himself.
"Alright. One thing at a time."
"It wasn't something he could rush. It would take a few days, working through it bit by bit."
He sat down near the low table and pulled out his phone.
"…I can't do everything myself."
A short pause.
"…and I shouldn't."
He searched for a local renovation service. The results were limited—small listings, basic pages—but one stood out. Nearby. Rural work. Repairs, not luxury.
He tapped the number.
ring… ring…
A voice answered. "Yeah?"
"I need some repair work done. Old house. Basic renovation."
A pause.
"…location?"
"Hoshinomura."
Another pause, shorter this time.
"…we can come tomorrow."
"That works."
"Morning."
The call ended.
Ren looked at the phone for a second.
"…efficient."
The next day—
A small van arrived.
Two men stepped out. No uniforms. Just work clothes.
They looked at the house once.
Then at Ren.
"You called?"
"Yes."
They walked around the structure, checking walls, roof edges, and foundation.
One of them crouched near the floorboards.
"Some panels need replacing," he said.
"Minor structural reinforcement," the other added.
"Electrical already done?"
"Yes."
"Good."
They stood up.
"Basic work—about 700k yen."
Ren didn't react immediately.
He calculated.
2 M in the bank.
500k in cash.
"…okay."
He nodded.
"Do it."
Work began that same day.
tok—tok—tok—
Hammering echoed through the house.
Wood panels were removed and replaced.
Dust rose again, but this time controlled.
Measured.
The workers moved efficiently, not wasting motion.
Ren stayed nearby, watching.
Sometimes helping.
Holding tools.
Clearing debris.
"Lift this."
"Here?"
"Yeah."
thud—
New wood slid into place.
Days passed.
Not all at once.
Work came in parts.
Floorboards fixed.
Loose panels replaced.
Frames adjusted.
The house didn't become new.
But it became stable.
On the third day—
A familiar engine sound approached.
rrrrr…
Ren stepped outside.
Daichi stepped out of his kei truck, holding a small bag.
"Thought you might forget to eat," he said.
Ren blinked.
"…I didn't."
Daichi raised an eyebrow.
"Sure."
He handed over the bag.
Inside—
Simple food. Rice balls. Pickled vegetables. A bottle of tea.
"…thanks."
The chief leaned against the truck casually.
"How's it going?"
"Getting there."
Daichi nodded, looking toward the workers.
"Good, you hired them. Saves time."
A short pause.
"You settling in okay?"
"…yeah."
Daichi gave a small smile.
"Good. If you need anything, just ask. Don't try to do everything alone."
Ren glanced at him briefly.
"…I won't."
The chief nodded once.
"Alright. I'll stop by again."
He got back into the truck.
rrrr…
And left.
A few days later—
The work was done.
Not perfect.
But enough.
The house stood quieter now.
Stronger.
Ren checked his phone.
Balance:
1.3 M yen remaining in the bank.
~450k yen cash left.
Food expenses. Materials. Small purchases.
"…manageable."
He leaned back slightly.
"…for now."
Boxes arrived from Tokyo.
Clothes.
Laptop.
Basic equipment.
He unpacked slowly.
Placed things where they made sense.
No rush.
That night—
His laptop opened again.
Screen light in the quiet room.
Freelance work.
Small tasks.
Nothing big.
But something.
click… click…
"…start again."
Days settled into a rhythm.
Morning cleaning.
Simple meals.
Afternoon work.
Evening silence.
The land outside is slowly changing.
The house is holding together.
Then—
One afternoon—
The workers had just finished.
Tools packed.
The house is quiet again.
Ren walked through the hallway.
Checking.
Habit.
Then—
He stopped.
"…?"
There—
On the far wall.
A door.
He frowned slightly.
"…this wasn't here."
It didn't look new.
Old wood.
Clean.
Too clean.
Different from everything else.
Ren stepped closer.
"…did they install this?"
No answer.
The handle—
smooth.
Untouched by dust.
He reached out.
Paused.
Then—
turned it.
click—
The door opened.
Ren's eyes widened slightly.
"…what…"
He didn't stop.
At least—not completely.
His hand was still on the handle, but his body leaned forward, almost unconsciously.
A small step followed.
Then another.
Like something in him had already decided.
Not curiosity.
Not logic.
Just… movement.
Something about the space beyond the door felt wrong—
and at the same time—
impossible to ignore.
Ren stepped across the threshold.
"…whoa… what is this…?"
His voice came out lower than expected.
The air felt different.
Denser.
Still.
He frowned slightly, trying to process it.
"This door…" he muttered, glancing back for a split second, "it should lead to the backyard."
A pause.
His gaze returned forward.
"…but this isn't the backyard."
A quiet tension spread through his chest.
Not fear.
Not yet.
But something deeper—
like every instinct in his body had reached the same conclusion at once.
This is wrong.
And still—
He didn't step back.