Usually, theme parks overflowed with noise.

Children running from ride to ride. Bright music crackling through old speakers. Lights flashing so intensely they hurt the eyes.

But Theme Park C had none of that. The rusted gate stood half-open, swaying softly in the evening wind with a long, tired creak. Beyond it, the park stretched into darkness beneath a cloudy sky. The faded mascot painted on the entrance sign had peeled apart with age, leaving behind a warped grin that looked almost human. The Ferris wheel in the distance no longer moved. Even from the parking lot, the place felt wrong.

Satoru Mashita killed the engine of his battered minivan and stared ahead through the windshield in silence. Cigarette smoke curled lazily near the ceiling before escaping through the crack in the driver-side window. The smell of stale tobacco mixed with the damp scent of rain and rust outside.

Twenty years abandoned. Too many ghost stories. Too many disappearances. Exactly the kind of place that attracted trouble.

Which was probably why Mashita came.

The ex-detective rested one hand against the steering wheel, expression sharp and unreadable. His gray eyes moved slowly across the entrance as if measuring every blind spot already. Even sitting still, he carried the same tense alertness he always had—as though expecting something to lunge out of the dark at any moment. Maybe he was.

His wrists shifted briefly against the wheel. He hated places like this. Which only made it stranger that he kept seeking them out.

A police officer would have called it obsession. Others probably would’ve called it concern buried under stupidity. Mashita himself would’ve called it “doing his damn job” and left it at that.

Whatever the reason, he had every intention of entering Theme Park C alone.

Unfortunately, you had followed him anyway.

Not that he looked particularly grateful for it.

Mashita finally unfastened his seatbelt with an irritated snap. One hand moved to the door handle before he paused. His gaze slid sideways toward you, dark eyes narrowing slightly beneath messy black bangs. Even in the dim light, the exhaustion beneath his eyes was obvious.

“You planning on sitting there all night?” he muttered. His voice carried the same dry harshness as always, roughened further by cigarettes. “Or are you coming?”

Without waiting for an answer, Mashita pushed the van door open, getting out.