Chapter 5: The Invisible Cage
The morning air, once cool and fresh, was now choked with the agonizing screams of Daiki and Emi, and the sickening, rhythmic thump of their heads hitting the ground.
Kenji, silent but equally tormented, continued to bash his head against the ancient oak tree.
The sweet, decaying floral scent was overpowering, making the remaining students gag.
They stood paralyzed, a frozen tableau of horror, staring at their classmates trapped beyond the glowing white line.
"Daiki! Emi! Kenji!" Kaito yelled, his voice raw, but his friends didn't respond.
Their screams and thuds continued, a horrifying, endless loop of pain.
Their eyes were wide, but empty, showing no sign of recognition, no flicker of their former selves.
Ren, his face ashen, took a hesitant step forward, then stopped abruptly, his foot hovering just inches from the glowing line.
He remembered Daiki's casual step, his confident smile, before the horror began.
A cold, undeniable certainty washed over him: that line was a barrier. A trap.
"Don't!" Akari shrieked, pulling him back by his shirt.
"Don't cross it, Ren! Look what happened!" Her voice was a desperate whisper.
Sakura was openly sobbing, burying her face in her hands.
"What is this? What's happening to them? This isn't a prank! This isn't real!"
But the screams were real.
The thuds were real.
The realization hit them like a physical blow: they were trapped.
The glowing white line, which had appeared from nowhere, was an invisible cage.
They couldn't leave the hotel grounds.
And anyone who tried... suffered a fate worse than death.
Slowly, agonizingly, the screams of Daiki and Emi began to dim.
The sickening thump of their heads against the ground, and Kenji's against the tree, grew fainter, less distinct.
The horrifying sounds didn't stop abruptly, but rather faded into a low, continuous moan, then a barely audible whisper, until finally, the morning air was filled only with the chirping of birds and the distant hum of the town.
The sweet, decaying floral scent, however, still hung heavy around them.
"Are they... are they okay?" Yui whispered, her voice trembling, as the terrible sounds ceased.
"Daiki! Emi! Kenji! Can you hear us?!" Kaito yelled, his voice raw, straining to be heard over the sudden quiet.
Other students joined him, their voices hoarse with fear and desperation.
"Say something! Are you alright?!"
They waited, their eyes fixed on their friends' motionless figures beyond the line.
But there was no answer.
Just the silent, unsettling stillness of their bodies.
Their friends were gone, swallowed by whatever had happened beyond the line.
"We have to go back inside," Kaito finally managed to say, his voice barely a croak.
"We can't help them here. We have to figure this out."
With heavy, stumbling steps, the remaining students retreated from the horrifying scene.
They backed away from the glowing line, their eyes fixed on the now silent figures of their tormented classmates, who remained motionless, crouched or slumped, beyond the barrier.
The screams and thuds had stopped, but the image of their vacant eyes and self-inflicted pain would haunt them forever.
They stumbled back towards the Grandview Hotel.
The massive front doors, which had seemed so welcoming just moments ago, now felt like the entrance to a tomb.
They pushed them open and spilled back into the grand lobby, the heavy doors swinging shut behind them with a hollow thud that echoed the one they'd heard from Hiroshi.
The lobby was still dimly lit, the dusty chandeliers casting long, eerie shadows.
The sweet, decaying floral scent was still strong here, a constant reminder of the unseen horror.
Mr. Kuroda was nowhere to be seen, the reception desk still empty.
The silence inside was profound, broken only by their ragged breathing and the frantic pounding of their own hearts.
They huddled together in the center of the lobby, a much smaller, more terrified group now.
The earlier chaos had given way to a stunned, disbelieving silence.
The casual chatter, the jokes, the carefree energy of a school trip were gone, replaced by a chilling dread.
"This... this isn't a prank," Yui whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her eyes were wide, staring at the empty reception desk, then at the grand staircase that curved up into the shadows.
"Hiroshi... Daiki... Emi... Kenji... What is this? This is real, isn't it?"
Sakura clutched Kaito's arm, her voice trembling.
"Hiroshi's jump... it wasn't a prank either, was it? That's why we couldn't find his body. It was real. All of it."
"But how?" Ren asked, running a hand through his hair, his earlier bravado completely shattered.
"And why? Why us? What is happening?"
Kaito, his mind racing, pulled out his phone.
He looked at the screen.
The "Midnight Game" app was still there, a dark icon on his home screen.
He didn't open it.
He just stared at it, a cold suspicion forming in his mind.
Hiroshi's disappearance, the white line, the screams... it all started after that app.
But it was just a game, right? A stupid prank.
"Mr. Sato," Akari suddenly said, her voice sharp.
"We still haven't found Mr. Sato. He's gone, our phones don't work, and now... this."
She gestured vaguely towards the outside, where their friends lay silent beyond the line.
"We're completely cut off. And we're trapped."
The word hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.
Trapped.
They were alone, with no one to help them, and something unspeakable was happening around them.
The casual dismissal of the "game" now felt like a grave mistake.
They knew, with a chilling certainty, that whatever was behind these horrifying events was far from finished.
Just then, a series of notifications buzzed through the lobby, echoing eerily in the silence.
Every phone, regardless of who was holding it, lit up with the same stark, white text on a black background.
The "Midnight Game" app, which they had tried to ignore, had activated again.
THE GAME HAS CHOSEN AGAIN.
NAME THE PERSON YOU DISLIKE THE MOST.
YOU MUST PLAY.
The air in the lobby grew heavy, thick with the sweet, decaying floral scent.
The whispers returned, faint and sibilant, seeming to swirl around them.
This time, there were no excited giggles, no nervous laughter.
The students stared at their screens, then at each other, their faces etched with a profound, chilling dread.
No one moved.
No one dared to type a name.
The game was demanding another choice.
And it was waiting.