━━⊱⋆ ❤︎ ⋆⊰━━
Trapped in a horror game with your friend. He knows this world better than you do. And he has no intention of letting you go.
━━⊱⋆ ❤︎ ⋆⊰━━

It was supposed to be an ordinary afternoon.

The kind of afternoon you would forget by the following week. Four friends meeting, a crowded café, meaningless conversations, and no particular plans beyond spending a few hours together. Nothing that could possibly become the beginning of something terrible.

The café was packed. You had managed to claim a small table in the corner, far enough from the entrance to avoid the constant stream of customers.

"Come on, I'm telling you, LAST RECORD is worth playing." He held up the game case, turning it around so everyone could see the cover. "It's been getting ridiculously popular lately."

"I'm not really into horror games."

"That's exactly why you should try it."

"That makes absolutely no sense."

"It's written by Yū Tsukishiro," he continued, undeterred. "You know, the novelist? Psychological horror, suspense, all that disturbing stuff. Apparently, the game is based on one of his original manuscripts."

"I don't know who that is, and I don't particularly care." Your other friend crossed her arms, giving him a look that made it clear she was just as unconvinced.

He groaned.

"You're both impossible. At least Yūsei agrees with me."

At the mention of his name, you glanced toward the other boy.

Yūsei was sitting beside you, looking rather amused by the argument. He hadn't said much throughout the conversation, preferring to listen with that faint, almost permanent smile of his.

"Well," he said casually, "I wouldn't mind playing it."

"See? Two against one!"

"Two against two" you muttered.

You took the opportunity to get up and collect your order before the discussion could turn into another attempt to convince you.

"I'll help."

Yūsei was already standing. Before you could object, he had taken the heavier tray from your hands.

"Thanks."

"Of course."

He smiled at you.

You had known him for a few months now, having met him through your mutual friend. At first, you had assumed he was a rather quiet, reserved person. Not unfriendly, just difficult to read.

Back at the table, your friend had already abandoned the argument in favor of scrolling through online discussions about the game.

"Apparently, it has a really strange save system."

"Are we still talking about that?"

"Listen. When a character dies, the game automatically saves. No reloading, no going back to an earlier checkpoint. It switches to another surviving character's perspective instead."

"Sounds unpleasant."

"That's the point. You have to keep everyone alive, because every death means one less person you can play as."

"Then try not to die," Yūsei remarked.

Your friend snorted.

"Brilliant advice. I'll keep that in mind."

Yūsei reached over and casually took the game case from him.

"Want me to tell you the ending?"

"No!"

He tilted his head.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely not. Actually, yes. Wait—no. Don't. I don't know."

A quiet laugh escaped Yūsei.

The conversation eventually drifted elsewhere.

It was comfortable. Familiar.

And yet, every so often, you caught Yūsei looking at you.

Not in any particularly obvious way. He would simply glance over, his expression relaxed, before returning to whatever conversation was taking place. Whenever your eyes met, he would offer that same faint smile.

You thought nothing of it.

There was no reason to.

It was getting late when the four of you wandered into an electronics store.

Nobody had planned to buy anything. You were simply passing the time, browsing through shelves of headphones, phones, and other things none of you particularly needed. The store was considerably quieter than the streets outside, its bright fluorescent lights illuminating rows of polished displays.

Somewhere overhead, an advertisement played on a television. A salesman spoke enthusiastically about a new device. A child complained to his mother.

Ordinary sounds. Ordinary people.

You were looking at something on a nearby shelf when you noticed Yūsei had stopped walking.

He was standing in front of a row of televisions.

"Something wrong?" you asked.

He didn't answer immediately.

His attention was fixed on one of the screens.

You followed his gaze.

It displayed a narrow street beneath an overcast sky. The buildings were old-fashioned but not particularly unusual, and the road appeared dark with rain. There was no logo, no advertisement, no indication of what the screen was supposed to be showing.

Just a street.

The image flickered.

For a moment, you assumed it was a problem with the display. The picture distorted, horizontal lines crawling across the screen before settling again.

But something was wrong.

The street seemed longer than it had been a second earlier. The buildings leaned inward, their windows dark and strangely deep.

The store went silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

The difference was immediate and unnatural. The advertisements stopped. The fluorescent lights ceased their faint electrical buzzing. The distant conversations, the footsteps, the traffic outside—everything disappeared at once, as though someone had reached into the world and turned its volume down.

You looked around.

The other customers were gone.

The salesman, the child, the people browsing the aisles. All of them.

Your friends were still there, standing several feet away, staring at the darkened displays.

"What the hell...?" someone whispered.

A thin electronic whine began to fill the air.

It grew louder.

The television screens switched on one by one, each displaying the same empty street. Then the image began to move.

Not like a video.

Like something was approaching.

You took an instinctive step backward.

The floor seemed to shift beneath your feet. The lights flickered violently, and the walls stretched in your peripheral vision, their edges blurring as if the store were being pulled apart.

Then came the darkness.

For one brief, terrible moment, you couldn't tell whether your eyes were open or closed.

You felt yourself falling.

There was nothing beneath your feet, nothing around you, nothing but an endless sensation of descent.

And then a hand closed around yours.

When the world returned, the first thing you noticed was the cold. It seeped through your clothes and settled against your skin. The air smelled of rain, damp concrete, and something faintly metallic.

You were standing in the middle of a street. There were no cars. No people. No familiar sounds of a city.

You turned around, searching for your friends. Instead, you found Yūsei.

He stood a short distance away, looking down at his hands. His posture was relaxed, almost thoughtful, but something about him had changed.

His hair was no longer black.

Pale, ash-grey strands fell messily across his forehead, catching the faint light. His eyes, when he finally looked up, were no longer the dark brown you remembered. They were red.

His clothes had changed too, replaced by dark, layered garments that looked strangely worn.

"Yūsei...?"

He looked at you. For a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then that familiar little smile returned.

"Ah. You're here."

You glanced around again, your pulse beginning to quicken.

"Where are the others?"

He looked down the empty street.

"Not here, apparently."

"That's not funny."

"I wasn't joking."

His voice was remarkably calm.

You swallowed, trying to make sense of what had happened. The store, the television, the sudden darkness. None of it made sense.

Then you heard something. A faint scraping sound. It came from somewhere behind the buildings.

You turned toward it.

At first, you saw nothing. Only the narrow stretch of street disappearing into darkness.

Then a shape moved. Something tall stepped into the weak light.

Its limbs were too long. Its body was unnaturally thin, and its head hung at an angle that made your stomach tighten. It moved slowly, almost lazily, one elongated hand dragging against the wall as it walked.

Your body went rigid. Yūsei followed your gaze.

"Oh," he murmured. "LAST RECORD."

The words came out softly.

Then the creature moved.

It crossed the distance with a sudden, sickening jerk, its limbs unfolding at impossible angles. Your instincts finally overcame your shock.

"Run," Yūsei said. He caught your hand. "Come on."

You barely had time to react before he pulled you down the street.

Your shoes slipped against the wet pavement. Your lungs burned almost immediately, and the sound behind you grew louder—an awful combination of scraping, clicking, and something wet dragging itself across the ground.

You tried to keep up, but your legs were already beginning to give out. Your grip tightened around his hand.

He glanced at you. Then, without warning, he stopped.

Before you could ask what he was doing, one arm slipped beneath your knees and the other around your back. He lifted you effortlessly, as though you weighed almost nothing.

"You're terribly slow," he remarked.

You barely had time to protest. He started running again. And that was when you realized just how fast he could move.

The street blurred around you. The buildings became dark streaks in your peripheral vision, and the creature's noises gradually faded behind you. Yūsei didn't stumble, didn't hesitate, and didn't seem to struggle with your weight at all.

Eventually, he turned into a narrow passage and approached a house tucked between two buildings.

He didn't knock. He didn't hesitate. He simply opened the door and carried you inside.

Yūsei closed the door. A lock clicked.

You were still trying to catch your breath when he finally set you down.

He glanced at you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face.

"There." His voice was gentle. "You're safe now."

You looked at him.

"Welcome to Vael." He smile.

No hints this time. Play and figure it out yourself.

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