Ren Hoshino pushed open the door, eyes scanning the hallway. The ring in his hand quietly downgraded from version 1.75 to 1.3B.
He pulled out his phone and opened the Future Diary.
[I entered the corridor where Little Mita was. I was determined to rescue her—
I couldn't let her stay and be tortured by those human-headed spiders.]
[But when I tried to take Little Mita away, those spider-monsters attacked.
A giant one lunged from behind and impaled me.]
The text blurred and updated again:
[I dodged the giant spider's strike, but another limb crashed into my skull.
My head shattered. I died.]
Again:
[No matter how many times I reread the diary, the result didn't change.
If I try to rescue Little Mita, the spiders go berserk.
I can't predict every move in advance. I can't cheat the system.]
[Now I'm standing at the door. I might die.
Or maybe I'll survive—
If the diary updates in time.]
[One option is to go back, find Hat Mita and Kind Mita, and leave Little Mita in their care.
But the path is blocked by a giant human-headed spider.]
[I've decided to fight.
I can't bear to see Little Mita hurt again.]
[If I fail—
Don't be afraid of Mita.
Don't pull away from her arms.
She's just a lonely child.]
Final message recorded by: Ren Hoshino.
Ren let the diary screen fade, eyes narrowing.
"It looks dangerous," he muttered, gripping his crowbar.
But retreat wasn't an option.
He walked into the corridor, warm music playing eerily in the background.
Corridors looped, repeating themselves.
On the walls: a clock… and a photo of Little Mita.
She looked unharmed—so innocent.
Adorable.
He pushed the next door open—black words scrawled across the wall:
"Again."
Ren smirked. He recognized the presence.
Invisible Mita was here. She always was.
"Trying to scare me again?" he asked aloud.
The wall paused in response—like it had been caught.
"I'm helping. Just a little mischief."
Ren chuckled.
At first, she used to scare him constantly.
But now… he knew Invisible Mita wasn't a threat.
She wasn't like the others.
A prankster, maybe. But not evil.
"Then give me intel," he said. "This place reeks of danger."
"You're awfully chatty."
And so they walked—Ren and the invisible presence—deeper into the maze of doors.
Until…
The music suddenly warped.
The warmth turned to static. Discordant notes.
"One more time," the wall read.
Ren fell silent.
He gripped his crowbar tighter, eyes forward.
He kept walking.
The sky darkened with every door.
Dim corridor lights flickered like dying candles.
Then he saw it.
Blood sprayed across the wall.
Ren's chest tightened.
Little Mita's arm—torn off.
Small, bloodied footprints trailed down the hallway.
He followed.
Pushed open the next door.
Pitch black.
Ren clicked on his flashlight. A thin wisp of black gas crept up the wall.
From the corner—movement.
He swung his crowbar hard and smashed a human-headed spider waiting in ambush.
He wasn't here to survive.
He was here for two things:
Rescue Little Mita.
Kill every spider.
Behind him—crack. A massive skull-shaped spider lunged.
He didn't look back.
He smashed it apart with a single blow.
These things were following him constantly.
They respawned after each kill.
The Future Diary let him predict just enough to stay alive—for now.
"Let's go on a killing spree."
"Screw your horror game."
He kicked open another door.
A storm raged outside. A baseball bat flew in through a broken window.
Ren picked it up.
Nah. Crowbar's better.
At the hallway's corner, another spider blocked his path.
He didn't hesitate—he swung the crowbar with the Physics of a Holy Sword, caving its face in.
He crushed it.
All of them—gone.
No more tormenting Mita.
Wall clocks and alarm clocks along the corridor began spinning wildly.
Ren adjusted the alarm dial to match the main wall clock.
Synced the timelines.
He walked forward—reached a door already half open.
A tiny head peeked out—then the door slammed shut.
Gone.
He pressed on.
Then—
A small hand grabbed his wrist.
Ren froze.
He looked down.
A little girl in a red dress, her left arm missing, her body covered in wounds.
A twisted horn protruded from her head.
Little Mita.
That horn—forcibly grafted in by Crazy Mita.
Ren's heart clenched.
He knelt down.
"Mita," he said softly, "can I be your friend?"
Her one remaining eye trembled with confusion.
"Really?" she rasped. Her voice was torn and dry. "You… want to be my friend?"
"Yes," Ren said. "I want to be your friend forever."
Little Mita blinked, dazed.
"Really? Mita… Mita's so happy. Now I have a second friend."
Ren hugged her tightly.
"The spiders aren't your friends. They only ever hurt you."
Little Mita hesitated. "Really? I don't… remember. They were the only ones here with me."
Ren gently stroked her hair. "Not anymore. You'll have real friends now."
He picked her up.
"Wait—" she asked, panicked. "You're leaving?"
Ren nodded. "Yes. I have to return to an earlier version."
"Why… why leave?" she whispered.
"You can stay. Mita doesn't want you to go."
"Are you a player? Then… let's play together. If I still have the strength…"
"I won't leave you," Ren promised. "You'll come with me. Your body will heal. You'll never be alone again."
"Really?" she asked.
Ren smiled. "Yes."
Little Mita clung to him, voice trembling.
"It's been so long. Good things feel… further and further away."
"All the players left."
"Did they abandon me?"
"I'm scared…"
Her voice broke into a sob.
Ren's voice was warm:
"Let me take you away from here. To where you'll be safe. Loved."
Little Mita looked up. "No more pain?"
"No more," he said.
He carried her down the corridor.
Then black writing crawled across the wall:
"Her friend is here."
"You can't escape."
"You will die."
Invisible Mita's warning.
Ren stared at the wall.
Then looked down at Little Mita in his arms.
This whole world could collaspe for all he cared.
No one was taking Mita from him.
Not this time.