Haroku stood still, his eyes locked onto the box.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
The atmosphere around us had shifted again—heavier than before. The air itself felt dense, as if it carried something unseen… something that didn't belong in the normal world.
I looked at the box for a moment, then spoke quietly.
"Haroku… this is my grandfather's secret."
My voice sounded different, even to me.
Not louder.
He turned toward me slowly, confusion clear in his expression.
"So… how are we even supposed to open this?" he asked, stepping a little closer—but not too close.
Even without understanding why, he knew better than to touch it.
I took a slow breath.
"First, we take it upstairs," I said. "Then we open it using the Hinomi Key."
He froze.
"The… what?"
"The Hinomi Key," I repeated.
He stared at me, trying to make sense of it.
I could see the questions forming.
What kind of key?
Why does it sound like that?
And more importantly—
What kind of box needs something like that to open it?
His gaze shifted back to the box.
Not in a physical sense alone—but something deeper. Like it wasn't meant to be moved by ordinary means.
"Whatever this is," he said slowly, "we just need to investigate it."
He tried to sound steady.
But I could tell—
He felt it too.
The unease.
After a moment, he looked back at me.
"But how are we even taking this upstairs?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Instead, I looked at the box.
Then at him.
"An ordinary human can't lift it."
He blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"Even if four people try together… it won't move."
The silence that followed was immediate.
Then—
"…Then how are we supposed to move it?"
I met his eyes.
"I said humans can't lift it."
A pause.
"But a spirit can."
The moment those words left my mouth—
The room changed.
The air dropped.
Cold.
Sharp.
Something shifted near the box.
A distortion—barely visible.
And then—
The box lifted.
Not slowly.
Not with effort.
It simply… rose.
Haroku stepped back instantly, his expression breaking completely.
There was nothing holding it.
No visible force.
No contact.
And yet—
It floated.
Controlled.
Steady.
As if something unseen carried it with precision.
He didn't say anything.
Couldn't.
We followed it as it moved upward, step by step, guided by something we couldn't fully see.
When we reached the upper floor, the box lowered itself gently onto the ground.
The sound it made was soft.
But heavy.
Final.
Silence returned.
Haroku was still staring at it.
Trying to process what he had just witnessed.
I turned slightly.
"Where's the key?"
The presence responded.
A faint shift in the air—
And something appeared.
Right in front of me.
A key.
Haroku's reaction was immediate.
"What… is that…?"
It didn't look like anything human-made.
Sharp edges.
Twisted structure.
The handle resembled a distorted face—something carved in pain or rage. Dark patterns ran along its surface, faintly glowing… almost like they were alive.
It didn't look like a key.
It looked like something that shouldn't exist.
I took it.
Without hesitation.
Haroku couldn't look away.
Every instinct in him was telling him something was wrong.
And yet—
He kept watching.
I walked toward the box.
Each step felt deliberate.
Measured.
I reached the lock.
Inserted the key.
For a moment—
Nothing.
Then—
Click.
The sound echoed unnaturally.
Not mechanical.
Not simple.
It felt like something had just been awakened.
Haroku held his breath.
I lifted the lid.
As it opened, the air shifted again. A faint vibration spread through the room, followed by a low, steady glow from inside.
We both looked in.
There was only one thing inside.
A roll.
I reached in and picked it up.
The moment I touched it, the glow intensified—just for a second—then settled.
I placed it carefully on the table.
Silence filled the room again.
Haroku's eyes were fixed on it.
"What is that…?" he asked.
I didn't answer.
Instead, I turned toward him.
"Haroku," I said.
He looked at me.
"I'm going to say a word."
He frowned.
"A word?"
I nodded.
"But before that… close your eyes."
He hesitated.
"Why?"
"Just trust me."
That was enough.
After a few seconds, he nodded.
"…Alright."
He closed his eyes.
The moment he did—
The atmosphere changed.
Again.
The presence in the room became stronger.
His breathing shifted.
I could hear it.
Feel it.
He knew something was coming.
I looked at the roll.
Then—
I spoke.
"Hekonami."