He rose from the bed slowly, without a sound. With soft, deliberate steps, he approached the door, turning back one last time to look at Lisa."I'll be back before dawn, sweetheart. I'm sorry," he whispered.
He opened the door and closed it behind him with the utmost care. Only once he was certain he hadn't disturbed her did he break into a run, heading toward the first night train.
As he stepped into the carriage, a strange sensation washed over him—an alien discomfort, as though he were trespassing in a place that no longer welcomed him. It had been years since he last took the metro. The memories had faded, grown distant.There was only one other passenger: a man seated with his back to him, dressed far too formally for such an hour. No one else.Not that it was surprising—night trains were often empty, or worse, filled with drunks and shadows best avoided. This time, Masahiro thought, he had been lucky.
He leaned against the cold wall of the carriage, closed his eyes, and covered his face with one hand. He was tired, still dazed.Then came a jolt—sudden, violent—that dragged him back to the present. The metro lurched, trembling as if it might come off the rails. The lights flickered. A rancid stench filled his nostrils, thick and rotting, curling in his gut."What the hell…?"
The world around him seemed to bend. He looked around, disoriented, eyes scanning for the station map, desperate to find a familiar name. But the poster was torn, leaving behind only scraps clinging to the wall."Damn it…"
He turned toward the well-dressed man on his right—still there, motionless. He decided to approach, steadying himself with the metal poles, fighting back waves of nausea. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder."Excuse me… do you know which stop—"
A sharp crack froze him mid-sentence. He drew his hand back. Then he saw it—the man's head detaching, rolling slowly across the floor.It was mummified.
Masahiro stood petrified. He took a step back, eyes wide in horror.
"What… no… no…"
The carriage began to move, breathing around him like something alive. And then, a voice—a wet, rasping whisper.
"M… Masa… hi… ro…"
The mummy's head… it was speaking.
"Why did you let me… die?"
"Dad… no, I… I didn't mean to—"
A scream—shrill, inhuman—tore through him.
"YOU WILL PAY, UNGRATEFUL SON!"
The head sprang toward him. Masahiro screamed. Then—darkness.
He awoke with a start. A dull ache pulsed in his skull. He looked around.This wasn't a hospital.
The room had a strange familiarity, like a place half-remembered from a dream. He sat up in bed. To his right, on a worn nightstand, sat a photograph. He picked it up.It was him, in a school uniform. He must've been seven. Next to him, a face he knew: Ryoka. His childhood friend, whom he hadn't seen since middle school.
"Ryoka…"
The door burst open.
"Masu! Oh my God, Masu!"
It was Lisa. She threw herself into his arms, holding him tightly."Are you okay? You scared me half to death!" She cupped his face in her hands. "Thank goodness Ryoka was there… But what were you doing out there at that hour?"
Masahiro tried to reassure her. "I'm all right, Lisa. Just… a little confused."
Another figure entered the room. Ryoka.Masahiro recognized him instantly—and yet… something wasn't right. His skin was ghostly pale, and his outfit—identical to that of the mummy in the metro.
"Masahiro Kuni. What a dreadful way to reunite." He laughed. Too long.
Masahiro stood, trying to smile."Ryoka, my old friend… what am I doing here?"
"What do you mean, what are you doing here? You came to visit me. Then you started talking nonsense and passed out. Lisa told me you were exhausted. You should've stayed in bed, man."
"Yeah… maybe you're right."
The room felt suffocating, yet Lisa seemed at ease. Maybe it was just him.
Ryoka placed a hand on his shoulder—cold as stone."I heard about your father. My condolences, Kuni."
"Thanks." He tried to smile, but it faltered. Then he looked to Lisa, who gently took his hand.
"Thank you again, Ryoka. But I'm taking him to the hotel now. We have an appointment with the notary, and I want to enjoy some time with him before drowning in paperwork."
Ryoka nodded. That eerie smile never left his face."Of course. It was good to see you again, Kuni. I hope we meet again soon."
Masahiro gave a small nod, automatic, mechanical."Yes… soon."
As he left, he cast one final glance at the room. The door closed on its own, slowly. The photograph on the nightstand… he didn't remember it ever being taken.
Then, from behind the closed door, a whisper.
"Come back to me, Masahiro…"
Lisa didn't seem to hear it.
But Masahiro did.