I am dreaming.
In a daze, Takakai inexplicably understood this truth.
The surroundings took on a hazy, dreamlike quality. Within the dilapidated Room 204, he saw Shinomiya Kaguya resting on the bed—and beside her, his own corpse, its head crushed beneath truck tires.
So this is how it is.
In that moment of clarity, Takakai finally comprehended his identity.
Room 204 wasn't missing a corpse. Rather, he had taken the corpse's place.
His role on the second floor wasn't that of a resident, but of the corpse in the room.
Even though he was a living, breathing human being with a pulse and body heat, the apartment's rules recognized him as [the room's corpse].
Why?
He wasn't a corpse. He was alive.
The Invisible Knocker could affect him. The flesh-stealing anomaly could track him. Open windows corroded his mind. The doll-like children on the third floor had boiled him alive.
All of this proved, beyond any doubt, that Takakai was very much alive.
Of course, his willpower was extraordinary—allowing him to resist everything except the scripted "children" encounter—but that didn't change the fact that he was a vulnerable, mortal human.
In other words… was he simply hijacking an identity?
Like exploiting a glitch, he was still hunted by the apartment's horrors like any other player. He needed to eat, drink, relieve himself—all the demands of a living body. Yet, he also possessed an identity no normal player had: one that aligned with the apartment's rules, granting him partial recognition. This time, his role was [corpse].
This identity offered no protection against direct threats—his living nature would always give him away. But against the apartment's abstract rules, he had successfully infiltrated the system, disguising himself as one of its intended components.
The benefit?
At night, neither he nor Kaguya would be pursued by the corpse.
The inherent dangers of nighttime remained, but the most troublesome aspect—the unstoppable corpse that hunted players—would ignore them.
A minor advantage, but an advantage nonetheless.
But why?
Why did he have this identity?
Takakai slowly crouched, staring at the mutilated corpse on the bed.
He knew the origin of this image.
It was how he had imagined his own death in his previous life—the moment the overloaded truck's tires crushed his skull and chest. Given the vehicle's weight, he doubted the aftermath would be pretty.
Now, in this lucid dream, the corpse before him matched that mental image perfectly.
"Is it because of you?"
Takakai lowered his gaze to the watch on his wrist.
This enigmatic, dangerous object—of unknown origin—had granted him rebirth.
It was linked to a vast, dead city.
A ruined metropolis where corpses reenacted their final moments in an endless loop.
Had it overwritten his player identity, allowing him to exploit this glitch?
If so… did it mean the true path to clearing this game lay in nighttime exploration? To uncover the apartment's secrets, to find the real exit—were there things he could only observe at night?
And this dream—what did it signify? Why had he been pulled into it now, forced to confront his fabricated identity? Was this his dream, or something else's?
Takakai turned toward Room 204's door.
The corpse and Kaguya remained motionless on the bed.
He stepped forward, gripped the handle, and—
Creak—
The door opened onto a pitch-black hallway.
Yet, Takakai could see everything.
Every piece of furniture, every floor tile, every crack in the walls—the darkness no longer obscured his vision.
He stepped into the corridor, closed the door behind him, and approached the apartment's main entrance—now repaired by Sun Dajun.
Voices murmured beyond the door.
Takakai pressed his ear to the gap.
[Team 1 reporting—all 25 first-floor residents evacuated.]
[Team 2 reporting—27 second-floor residents evacuated. Escorting the final group from Room 204 now.]
[Command here—what's Team 3's status? Weather's worsening. Flood peak's arriving early.]
A young man's voice, crisp and authoritative, intercut with radio static.
In the distance, PA announcements blared alongside car horns and the roar of torrential rain.
[Room 304's resisting evacuation. They won't open the door.]
[The hell's wrong with them? Water's already waist-deep downstairs!]
[Sir, something's off about this family. Requesting forced entry. Teams 1 and 2, send backup—]
Amid the chaos, hurried footsteps pounded down the hallway outside.
These were echoes of the past.
When had this happened?
Room 304—what had occurred there?
Click.
His hand turned the doorknob before he realized it.
The storm's fury vanished.
Suddenly, Takakai stood in the hallway outside Room 204.
[Sir, let me help you.]
A voice whispered past him, distant and distorted.
Turning, he saw two figures emerge from 204—their faces blurred, their forms flickering like unstable projections.
The hallway was now crowded with people in orange rescue gear.
Evacuation personnel. Floodwaters. A storm.
He remembered.
This was the day the apartment was abandoned.
[This way, sir.]
The two figures descended the stairs.
Takakai found himself on the first floor without recalling the movement.
Dirty, mud-choked water swirled around his calves.
Phantoms streamed past him toward the exit.
More rushed upstairs.
[What's happening up there?]
[Room 304—how could this—?]
[Restrain them and get out! Don't contaminate the scene!]
BANG!
A thunderous crash from above.
A man's enraged screams. A woman's shrieks, raw with hysteria.
The cacophony swelled—shouting, sobbing, indecipherable whispers—all converging, descending toward him.
Takakai's perspective remained locked onto the two figures ahead, dragging him inexorably toward the exit.
The chaos drew closer.
The man's roars grew more frantic. The woman's wails sharpened into something inhuman.
Splash—
The exit loomed just ahead.
Takakai tried to turn, to see the source of the madness—but his body stiffened, forcing him to face the blinding light beyond the door.
[We're almost out.]
The phantom's voice rang hollow.
Takakai's legs refused to move.
Something had grabbed him.
Tiny fingers—child-sized—clutched his pant leg.
Who—?
This time, he managed to turn.
Splash—
The water's roar crescendoed.
His gaze dropped downward—
—to the small hand emerging from the floodwaters, gripping his thigh—
THUD!
Pain exploded through his skull as his eyes snapped open.
Sunlight seeped through the sealed window's cracks. The wall clock read 8:10 AM.
"You're finally awake. What happened to you?"
Kaguya stood by the clock, her voice edged with suspicion.
What happened?
Takakai blinked, fully alert now—and registered the discomfort clinging to him.
His clothes were soaked, as if he'd been dragged from water.
How?
He shifted—and pain lanced up his leg.
"..."
Understanding dawned. He rolled up his pant leg.
There, imprinted on his skin, was a small, bruised handprint.
Vivid enough to instantly recall the tiny hand that had yanked him underwater at the dream's end.
Tap. Tap.
Then—soft knocking from the living room's broken door.