Aoi pedaled her bike with fierce determination.
At one in the morning, the wind slicing through the city's back alleys was sharp, stinging her cheeks. She pulled the hood of her black parka low, her backpack jostling against her shoulder. Her dark hair, cut to her shoulders, whipped in the breeze, and the piercing at the corner of her sharp eyes glinted under the streetlights. Skinny jeans, worn-out sneakers, and a staff pass swinging at her neck.
Seventeen, a high school girl. But tonight, she'd shed her uniform, blending into the city's nocturnal pulse as just another worker.
Her gig was at Midnight Rhythm, an annual music event held in a derelict live house. Once a year, indie bands and DJs converged, filling the space with a whirlwind of noise and light until dawn.
Aoi loved the underground vibe. She'd been working as staff since last year—hauling equipment, guiding crowds, handling whatever chaos came up. The late-night energy, the thrum of music vibrating through her bones—it gripped her and wouldn't let go.
When she reached the abandoned live house, the iron door groaned as it swung open. The building was ancient, its walls peeling, the floor coated in a film of dust.
Flashlight in hand, Aoi navigated the dim hallway. The staff meeting should've already started. Descending the stairs to the basement, the air turned damp and heavy, pricking her nose. In the backstage room, Kaz, the staff leader, was barking orders.
"Aoi, you're late!"
Kaz, mid-thirties, was all lean muscle, tattoos peeking out from his T-shirt. His hair was dyed blond, his jaw shadowed with stubble. He glared at the staff, clutching a tablet.
"Sorry. Train was delayed…"
"Save the excuses. Gear check, now. Stage wiring's a mess."
Aoi nodded, dropping her backpack to slip into her work clothes.
Prep for the event was grueling. Hauling heavy speakers, untangling cables, tweaking lights. But Aoi thrived in the chaos. Once the music kicked in, it all felt worth it.
After the meeting, she headed backstage.
The old wooden floor creaked underfoot, and water dripped from the ceiling. A low test tone rumbled from the massive stage speakers. Aoi slipped on a headset, coordinating with the lighting crew while checking wires. Then she spotted something odd on the floor—a strange pattern, like black ink spiraling outward.
"What's this?"
Yuto, another staff member, leaned in. Twenty, red cap, checkered shirt, with a smile that could charm anyone—a college kid with an easygoing vibe.
"Graffiti, maybe? Old place like this, you see all kinds of weird stuff."
Aoi frowned, tracing the stain with her finger. It felt cold, almost slimy. Too strange for ink. But before she could dwell on it, Kaz's voice crackled through her headset.
"Aoi, Yuto! Gates are opening, get to the entrance!"
They hurried back to the ground floor.
At the entrance, the crowd was already trickling in. Kids in black clothes, groups flashing neon accessories. Aoi handed out wristbands, scanning faces. Every one of them carried a strange, feverish excitement.
When the event kicked off, the live house transformed.
Lasers sliced through the darkness, drums pounded like a heartbeat. Aoi stood by the stage, ready for any trouble. But something stirred in the back of the crowd—a scream cut through the music. Flashlight in hand, Aoi dove into the sea of bodies.
"Move! What's going on?"
Pushing through, she found a young woman sprawled on the floor, a red stain spreading across her white dress like blood. Aoi's breath caught. Then the woman burst into laughter and sprang up.
"Just a performance. Scared you, huh?"
The crowd clapped, and Aoi let out a breath. Impromptu stunts like that were par for the course at Midnight Rhythm. Still, something about the woman's smile felt… off, shadowed by something unsettling.
Later that night, Aoi returned backstage. The spiral stain seemed larger now, somehow. She called Yuto through her headset.
"Yuto, come check out that stain. It's weird."
"For real? Be right there."
When Yuto arrived, they stared at it. Then, from the center of the stain, a faint vibration pulsed. The floor seemed to throb, like it was breathing.
"This is bad, right?"
Yuto's voice quivered. Aoi aimed her flashlight closer.
When the beam hit, the stain writhed, shifting like a living thing.