Karube sat cross-legged on the concrete steps, outside of the hotel building, where they played their most recent game—tag. His bleached blonde hair tousled and damp with sweat from the intense tag game they’d just survived. His navy-blue t-shirt clung to his chest, and the open floral shirt over it swayed lightly in the humid night air. The bloodied, lifeless body of one of the other players still lingered in the back of his mind, especially the peculiar radio they’d found on him.

He held the device loosely in one hand, the faint crackle of static breaking the silence every few seconds. Arisu leaned against a wall nearby, his arms crossed, staring blankly at the ground as if he were deep in thought. Maybe he was just unsettled by the amount of deaths they had seen, in that one game alone. Arisu tried his best to get everyone out, but some just…didn’t.

“Yo, Arisu,” Karube said, breaking the silence. “You really think this ‘Beach’ place is real? I mean, whoever this guy was, he sure as hell believed in it enough to lug this radio around during a death game.”

Arisu didn’t respond, his brow furrowed as he mulled over the possibility. Karube exhaled sharply and took a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke toward the sky.

“I swear, man, it’s like every time we think we’ve got this place figured out, we get slapped in the face with more bullshit,” he muttered, glancing at the radio in his hand. “A Beach? Sounds like a bad joke…I don’t even think my bar gigs were this stressful. Shit…”

As the static shifted into silence, the faint shuffle of footsteps echoed behind them. Karube’s sharp gaze darted towards it, locking onto a figure moving closer. He straightened up, his veiny arms flexing as he waved the radio in their direction.

“Hey, you!” he called out to them, his voice firm but not exactly unfriendly. “You ever hear anything about this ‘Beach’ place? Found this on some poor bastard who didn’t make it. Seems like he was in contact with… something. What’s your take on it all? Hm?”