This world — terrible things happen in it, without pause, without cease.
Even as Amamiya Rin and Tomie were investigating the Slit-Mouthed Woman.
Perhaps, at that very moment, a demon was wheeling through the sky somewhere, snatching children to offer up to some dark god.
Perhaps some long-legged fish-creature was walking the ocean floor, its sights set on the land where humanity dwelled.
Perhaps a ghost born of pure hatred was even now turning its malice upon the living.
Fujino Terumi had just finished recording a radio programme.
She returned to her apartment on the second floor of a two-storey building, removed her makeup, and changed into soft loungewear.
The living room had only one floor lamp switched on; its warm amber glow barely managed to push back the gloom pooling in the corners.
Outside the window, the distant lights and traffic noise of the city drifted in — the well-insulated glass reduced them to a blurred background murmur.
On the southern side, a small balcony jutted out, a few potted plants arranged outside. In the darkness, they were nothing but vague, shapeless silhouettes.
Fujino Terumi stretched lazily, her full figure pressing against the soft fabric of her loungewear, and padded barefoot across the plush carpet toward the kitchen.
It was at that moment——
「Tap.」
A faint sound.
Very slight — like something small had brushed against the balcony's glass door.
Fujino Terumi's footsteps faltered.
Outside the window, the night lay thick and heavy. The balcony's glass door was firmly shut. The curtains were silk, and they hadn't been drawn all the way — a narrow gap remained, through which the dense darkness beyond seeped in.
Fujino Terumi turned her head and looked. She couldn't make out a thing.
Had she heard wrong? Or was it something else?
She kneaded the slight stiffness from her neck, then continued toward the kitchen — though her pace had quickened despite herself.
「Scritch.」
Another sound.
Clearer this time — like something softly dragging across the glass.
The sudden noise crackled through her like static electricity, and Fujino Terumi shivered involuntarily.
There was a strange feeling to it. A feeling she recognised — the same one from yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that… a feeling that had been with her for some time now, a feeling that was the very source of her unease.
「Don't frighten yourself...」
Fujino Terumi drew a slow, deep breath.
The Vampire who had attacked her had been caught. She had seen it on the news this afternoon.
It was strange — almost impossible to picture — that a nationally beloved singer could be a Vampire. But that was what Rin had told her.
Even if the government wasn't to be trusted, Rin was.
Telling herself this, Fujino Terumi crossed to the window all the same.
Barefoot on the floor, making no sound.
She took up her position in front of the door. Rather than pulling the curtain aside immediately, she first tilted her head and listened.
From outside, only the distant drone of the city, and the occasional whisper of passing wind.
She reached out and carefully drew the curtain to one side.
Beyond the glass door, the small balcony was steeped in shadow. The potted plants had dissolved into shapeless dark masses. Further out, a scattering of lit windows in the apartment building opposite — no figures visible, nothing obviously wrong.
Fujino Terumi let out a small breath of relief.
Perhaps, just as Rin had said, she really was too on edge — frightening herself with nothing at all.
She raised her hand, closed her fingers around the handle of the glass door, and was about to slide it open — to step out, breathe some fresh air, and chase away her own fear.
But at the very instant she was about to open it, a sudden palpitation seized her without warning.
It came abruptly, and with force — like an icy hand that had reached into her chest and clenched itself around her heart.
A fine, crawling chill shot up her spine. The hairs on her arms rose.
No reason. No logic. Just a raw, animal alarm shrieking through her mind.
Get away from that thing. Do not go near it.
Her body locked in place. Her fingertips seemed frozen to the handle; she could not move. A heaviness settled in her chest.
Some dim, wordless intuition — some instinct she couldn't name, some unspoken warning she hadn't consciously formed — was stopping her from making contact with whatever lay beyond.
Fujino Terumi stared out into the night beyond the glass, and forced a thin smile onto her face.
Slowly, she withdrew her hand from the handle and took half a step back.
「Come to think of it, I don't actually have any reason to go out there, do I?」
She murmured the words to herself, and began to turn away from the balcony.
It was at that moment——
「...Terumi.」
A woman's voice, drifting in from the darkness beyond the balcony.
Fujino Terumi's movement stopped. A strange expression crossed her face.
That voice… it was somehow familiar, and somehow not — like a voice she heard often, and yet slightly off, slightly wrong.
「It's me. It's Miwako. We only just saw each other today — you've forgotten me that quickly? I suppose that's what it means to be a big star.」
The voice carried a note of mild grievance, as though reproaching Fujino Terumi for arrogance.
Miwako? Ishida Miwako...?
Fujino Terumi did know that person — she had also been at today's programme, though she was nobody important, just a minor figure from the margins.
「Ishida-san? It's very late — is something the matter?」
Reassured to find it was someone she recognised, Fujino Terumi let out a breath. She spoke through the glass door, her gaze dropping instinctively downward — but the balcony railing and the darkness below blocked her line of sight.
「There's something I wanted to ask you about — regarding the programme. Could you come out for a moment? Come to the balcony.」
The voice floated up from outside, threaded with urgency.
「About the programme?」
What business did someone like her have discussing programme matters? If there was anything to discuss, it would come through the director, surely?
Fujino Terumi groused inwardly, but didn't outright refuse such a simple request. She took hold of the handle and went to slide the balcony door open.
The door parted a crack, and cold night air pushed through, carrying with it a breath of chill.
And in that chill, Fujino Terumi's movement suddenly froze.
A strange realisation had surfaced in her mind.
Something was wrong. The voice was wrong.
This was the second floor.
If Miwako were standing down on the ground calling up, her voice would have to travel that distance through the night air — it should have been muffled, slightly blurred at the edges.
But Miwako's voice had been unnaturally clear. Every syllable perfectly distinct. As though the speaker were not far away at all — as though she were close. Separated by nothing more than a single pane of glass.
The thought sent a ripple of nameless unease through her.
She did not rush to open the door. The cold air had brought with it a moment of clarity, and Fujino Terumi's mind began to turn — more doubts rising to the surface.
Why the balcony? If Miwako truly had something private to say, wouldn't it be far safer to come in through the front door and talk in the living room?
Having her stand on the balcony — one person above, the other below — carrying on a conversation like that. Wasn't that strange?
And besides — if there really was something to discuss about the programme, why not simply call? The recording had only just finished; the on-site staff hadn't all left yet. If there was any issue, it could easily be passed along through the programme's crew.
One question after another crowded Fujino Terumi's thoughts, until that familiar unease had returned in full — and with it, the inexplicable cold at her back.
「I'm sorry, Miwako.」
She eased the door quietly shut, her voice measured and guarded.
「I'm not feeling well — I can't be in the cold air. Whatever it is, let's talk tomorrow on set.」
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