Monday morning felt like walking back into a cage. The fluorescent lights of the school hallway were a harsh reminder of everything Rika had escaped during her week in Room 302.
She moved through the halls with a slight limp, the crutches gone but her leg still stiff. As she reached her locker, a familiar shadow fell over her.
"Look at that," Sato’s voice sneered from behind. "The Ghost is back. Did you think a little accident would make us forget how pathetic you are, Shinkawa?"
Usually, this was the moment Rika would shrink. She would stare at her shoes, wait for the laughter to end, and retreat into the silence of her notebook. But today, her fingers brushed the map Marin had drawn—the one with the stars and the "Scene 1" heading.
Rika turned around. She didn't scream. She didn't cry. She simply looked at Sato, her expression as calm as the canal water.
"Are you done?" she asked quietly.
Sato blinked, his smirk faltering. "What?"
"I’ve spent three years listening to you," Rika said, her voice steady. "But I realized something recently. You’re just a background character in a very boring chapter. And I’m done reading it."
The hallway went silent. The girls behind Sato stopped giggling. Rika didn't wait for a comeback. She turned and walked toward her classroom, her heart hammering, but her head held higher than it had been since middle school.
I did it, Marin, she thought. I’m a character now.
But the victory was short-lived.
During lunch, as Rika sat on the roof—the place she and Marin had planned to visit together—her phone vibrated. It was an unknown number.
From: Kodakawa (Mother)
Rika-chan, I’m sorry to tell you this. Marin had a collapse this morning. She’s back in the ICU. She keeps asking for her "writer." Please come when you can.
The sunlight on the rooftop suddenly felt cold. Rika stood up, her leg throbbing, but she didn't care about the pain. The "plot twist" Marin had joked about was here, and it was far more terrifying than any bully in a school hallway.
Rika grabbed her bag, ignoring the bell for next period. She ran. She didn't care if she was caught skipping. She didn't care if she looked "weird."
She arrived at the hospital breathless, the smell of lilies and disinfectant hitting her like a wall. The ICU was different from the regular ward. It was quieter, the air thick with the sound of machines fighting to keep time.
Through the glass of Room 4, she saw Marin. The yellow dress was gone, replaced by a maze of wires and a mask covering her face. She looked so small—like a bird that had flown too far and finally run out of sky.
Marin’s mother was sitting outside, holding the leather-bound diary. When she saw Rika, she stood up, her eyes red-rimmed.
"She told me about you," the woman whispered, pressing the diary into Rika’s hands. "She said you were writing the ending. She made me promise to give you this if things got... quiet."
Rika looked at the diary, then at Marin through the glass. The "research" was over. The story was no longer a game.
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.