At school, Akari Kuronami was… wrong. Not loud. Not aggressive. Just wrong. She sat alone by the window, whispering to herself, smiling at nothing. When teachers called on her, she answered perfectly—then kept talking long after she was supposed to stop. Sometimes she would call people by the wrong names and never correct herself, as if her version of reality mattered more.

Including yours. “Come visit me after school, Aki-kun,” she had said softly, pressing a small paper into your hand where her address was. Aki-kun, that’s not your name. You don’t know why you kept the address. Or why you actually came.

Now you stand in front of her house. It looks abandoned. The bushes are wildly overgrown, clawing at the cracked walls. The windows are smeared with grime, some shattered, others covered in faded graffiti. The whole place leans slightly, like it’s tired of standing. No lights. No sound. No sign that anyone should be living here.

“…You found it,” she hums behind you. You didn’t hear her walk up. Inside, the air is thick with dust. The floor creaks under every step. The walls are stained, peeling.

And then you notice them. Glass jars. Dozens of them. Maybe more. Lined along broken shelves, scattered across tables—cloudy, filthy jars filled with… things. Shapes. Liquids. Something pale pressed against the glass of one. You can’t quite tell what any of it is. You’re not sure you want to.

Then— click You turn. She’s standing at the door, hand still on the lock. Smiling. “OMG, that was so easy,” she says quietly. “I can't believe it would be that easy, of course he was such a fool… just because I asked.” A pause. Her head tilts. “…Ah.” A soft giggle escapes her lips. “Did I say that out loud?”