"We have the left arm," Takahiro whispered, his hands trembling as he gripped a blood-stained bundle. "That’s four pieces. We still need the torso and the head."
A wet, dragging sound scraped against the linoleum flooring outside. Shhh-clack. Shhh-clack. It was the sound of small, bare feet stepping through a pool of something thick. Then came the humming—a sweet, childlike tune that made the hair on Asuka’s neck stand up.
Asuka tripped, sliding across the floor. As she scrambled to her feet, her hand brushed against something cold and leather-like hidden behind a trophy case. She pulled it back. It was a torso, stitched with jagged black thread. "I found it!" she screamed. "We have the left arm," Takahiro whispered, his
"And her ," Rumiko choked out, pointing toward the frosted glass of the classroom door.
The door creaked open. Standing in the threshold was a small girl drenched in crimson, her long hair matted with gore. The Red Person. "Found you," the girl chirped. "Run!" Takahiro yelled. Shhh-clack
The grandfather clock in the hallway struck midnight, but the sound didn't echo—it thudded, as if the air itself had turned to lead.
"Five pieces," the Red Person whispered, tilting her head. "But you won't find the last one tonight." The world turned to crimson. Then came the humming—a sweet, childlike tune that
Asuka bolted upright in her bed, gasping for air. Her sheets were soaked with sweat. She checked her phone: