**"Hmm... this room is clearly designed for two people!"** Zen murmured as his gaze swept across the lavish space.
At the room's center stood a king-sized bed adorned with maroon satin sheets and heart-shaped pillows neatly arranged against the headboard. Beside the bed, wall-mounted lamps cast a soft glow over the area.
Near the wide window overlooking the city, a small mahogany table was flanked by two facing chairs—
Zen approached the window and partly drew back the curtains. *"We're on the 10th floor. The view is quite spectacular from here,"* he remarked, attempting to diffuse the tension.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the cityscape stretched endlessly—skyscrapers piercing the skyline, their lights flickering like distant stars—
Yumi remained rigid near the doorway, her knuckles whitening around the strap of her schoolbag. *"We can't stay here! I refuse to believe this hotel only has double rooms!"* Her voice wavered between annoyance and nerves.
Zen exhaled sharply before turning to face her. *"Then why did you agree to this hotel? Why didn't we just find another one?"* Yumi pressed, her frustration mounting. Her cheeks flushed crimson—whether from anger or embarrassment was unclear.
*"And go where?"* Zen countered, his tone calm yet firm. He averted his eyes from Yumi's flustered expression. *"You know this city is far larger than any we've been to before. Finding another hotel would be a chore, and there's no guarantee we'd get separate rooms."*
Yumi fell silent, realizing the logic in his words.
*"Fine, whatever. It's not like we have a choice now,"* she relented at last, trudging forward to perch on the edge of the bed—its plush surface dipping slightly under her weight. She dropped her bag beside the nightstand.
Opposite them, a flat-screen TV dominated the wall, mounted above a red-draped wooden console. Beneath it, small drawers hinted at contents better left unexamined.
Eager to dissolve the awkward silence, Yumi snatched the remote from the nightstand. *"Maybe we could watch something—"*
Zen, who'd been inspecting the wardrobe in the corner, whirled around. *"Yumi, wait—!"*
Too late. The TV flared to life, immediately blaring an adult film at full volume. Graphic scenes played across the massive screen, freezing Yumi mid-breath.
*"Wh-what the—?!"* She choked, hurling the remote onto the mattress as if burned. Her face turned tomato-red. *"Wh-what is this?!"*
Zen swiftly killed the broadcast, plunging the room into a silence far heavier than before.
*"This is a love hotel,"* he stated matter-of-factly, though a faint pink tinged his typically impassive face. *"So it's best not to touch the TV or open any drawers. There might be... things we'd rather not see."*
Yumi stared resolutely at the carpet, too mortified to lift her gaze. Her fingers twisted the hem of her shirt.
*"S-sorry,"* she mumbled, barely audible.
Zen sighed deeply and moved to the cramped sofa in the corner. *"I'll sleep here. You take the bed."* He began untying his shoes.
*"But that sofa's too small for you!"* Yumi protested, finally looking up. *"You'll barely fit!"*
*"It's fine,"* came his clipped reply.
★★★★
Two days had passed since Zen and Yumi reluctantly checked into the love hotel—a decision they now grudgingly appreciated.
Their stay had been unexpectedly peaceful, devoid of the strange occurrences they'd feared. On the second night, Zen abandoned the sofa for the king-sized bed after Yumi erected a *"pillow fortress"* divider down the center.
The room's climate remained perpetually comfortable thanks to advanced air conditioning—a luxury they'd sorely missed during their months adrift in this alien world.
*"I still can't get over it,"* Yumi mused, emerging from the bathroom with a towel draped around her neck. Water dripped from her hair onto the tiles. *"This place feels exactly like a Japanese hotel. Even better than some I've stayed in back home."*
Zen nodded absently, scrolling through his smartphone—an impossible device in this world, yet somehow functional. *"This city's an anomaly. Their tech seems decades ahead of other places we've seen."*
An antique wall phone near the bed connected directly to room service.
*"I'm starving,"* Yumi announced, picking up the receiver. *"Want to order breakfast?"*
*"Sure,"* Zen replied without glancing up.
After requesting toast, eggs, bacon, and fresh juice, Yumi hung up with a satisfied smile. *"Fifteen minutes,"* she reported.
She moved to the window, pulling the curtains wide. Morning sunlight flooded the room, illuminating the breathtaking skyline—towering spires of steel and glass, streets humming with activity—
A sudden seriousness darkened Zen's expression as he stared at his phone.
*"Huh. This is trending now,"* he muttered.
*"What is?"* Yumi leaned in, peering at the screen.
*"Look,"* Zen tilted the device toward her. *"We're not the only ones summoned here. People from other countries are disappearing too."*
The article listed missing persons—not just from Japan, but England, China, and beyond. Photographs accompanied each name.
*"Authorities worldwide are investigating,"* Zen continued grimly. *"The numbers keep growing. Whatever—or whoever—brought us here isn't stopping."*
Yumi exhaled heavily. *"My mom and little sister must be so worried,"* she whispered.
Zen studied her. *"You have a sister?"*
*"Yeah. Seven years old. Clings to me like a koala,"* Yumi smiled faintly. *"What about you? You never talk about family."*
A pause. *"Nothing worth mentioning,"* Zen deflected, his eyes drifting to the window.
*"We need to find a way home fast,"* he redirected. *"Our only lead is the one who summoned us."*
*"But we don't know who or where they are,"* Yumi countered.
*"Exactly,"* Zen pocketed his phone. *"We need intel on cross-dimensional summons. Maybe the city library—"*
The floor lurched violently beneath them. Not just once—a rhythmic pulsation, growing stronger. Glasses rattled on the table; paintings slid askew.
*"An earthquake?"* Yumi gasped, gripping the bedframe.
Zen shook his head, alert. *"No. The tremors are too... deliberate."*
The building itself seemed to *move*—not collapsing, but *shifting*, as though alive.
*"Like a heartbeat,"* Zen breathed.
A sickening crack tore through the ceiling. Flakes of paint peeled away, revealing dark red tissue beneath. Something viscous oozed through the fissures—thick, coagulated fluid.
*"Z-Zen..."* Yumi trembled, pointing at their feet.
The pristine marble tiles had softened, their color deepening to fleshy pink. The floor *undulated*, warm and spongy underfoot.
*"The floor's turning into *meat*!"* Yumi recoiled in disgust as the surface pulsed with grotesque vitality.
The transformation accelerated. Walls melted into glistening muscle tissue; veins spiderwebbed across surfaces. The ceiling bulged with tumorous growths that expanded and contracted like lungs.
*"We're leaving. Now,"* Zen commanded calmly.
He wrenched open the door—now a grotesque maw of bone and sinew—to reveal a corridor mutated beyond recognition. Pulsating flesh lined every surface; lights flickered within embedded tissue.
Something slithered in the distance. A once-human shape, now a writhing mass of flesh, crawled toward them.
*"Was that... staff?"* Yumi barely whispered.
Zen didn't answer. He seized her wrist and ran. *"Don't look back."*
As they fled through the living nightmare, one question consumed Zen:
*What the hell is this hotel—and what has it awakened?*