The rules of the game might seem complicated at first glance — ah, those rules. Layered like an onion. But if you cut through — no, even just look closer — it becomes clear that everything is far simpler than one might wish.
As mentioned earlier, the witch summoned six participants. Six pieces. Six lives. Six stories. And all of this — for the start of her *own*, damnably theatrical game.
The island doesn't actually exist in any dimension. Think about it: *none*. Not in the known, nor the imagined. It's something between "nothing" and "too much." One might call it a fabrication… yes, one might, if it weren't standing right beneath our feet.
A paradox? Perhaps. But if it appears, then it exists. And if it exists, then it's… not a fabrication. Though, perhaps, even the nonexistent can exist if the witch wills it.
It sits in the middle of an endless ocean. And this ocean — isn't quite an ocean either. It's more of a metaphor. A sensation. A confined space of infinity. It's unreachable. It appears *alongside* the island. Like a bonus addition. Like a shadow at your back, unnoticed until you turn around.
But there must be reasons the witch starts the game. She can't do it without motivation… right? Though… maybe she can. She *is* a witch, after all.
She said boredom was her greatest enemy. It sounded almost human. Boredom, loneliness… And yet, when there's no one around you, it rings with… terrifying truth. Even in this dense, seemingly vibrant forest — not a trace of life. No squirrels, no mice, no mosquitoes. Just wind and emptiness.
Well, except for the seagulls. Yes, seagulls constantly circle here. They're the only living things around us.
Living?
She — is dead. Died long ago. But her soul, as they'd say in ancient times, remains wandering. Sealed here. Forever. *Forever* — a word that reeks of cold.
Should one feel pity for such a person?
A trick question. A question with thorns. A question that can't be answered with "yes" or "no" without selling yourself entirely. The answer might seem obvious… but not in this case.
She forces us to play. A survival game. To obtain something cherished… you must kill.
Kill. Just kill. Each other. For a phantom dream. What foolishness. No, *what utter nonsense*.
Though — we all strive for something. Even me. *Especially* me. Everyone had their goals, their dreams. But none of us ever achieved them.
That's why we're here.
They died without ever knowing life's joy. The joy of life… an empty phrase for those who knew only suffering. And suffering — is universal. Like death: it comes for everyone.
Now they're given a new chance. A dream in exchange for survival. A toy scented with blood.
The task seemed simple. Survive until the seventh day — and you win. But we all understood: it's a lie. A beautiful, ringing promise wrapped around a knife.
What does she gain from this game?
It's hard to believe this is all just boredom. Boredom that can summon death. Boredom with a proper name.
Still, I've stopped thinking about it. Right now, it doesn't matter. All that's before me — is the enemy. The one I must destroy.
I almost gave up. Almost lost. Almost let go. *Almost*. But...
— A gorgeous, big-breasted girl is counting on me—how the hell can I afford to lose?!
That's our hero for you.
— I can't wait to see your pathetic face after another defeat, Aragi!
Like flipping a switch, Aragi snapped back to himself. Finding strength when there's none left — that's victory. Even if temporary. Even if only internal.
The witch has one advantage — magic. A simple answer to any question. Which means the game's rigged. As if it were ever fair.
— Let's return to the moment when all participants first reached the library door…
And another round of words began. Like chess, but with taunts and shouts.
— This is *your* doing, I know it…
— You've chosen to attack me in such a pitiful way…
*"I don't have a grand plan. I can only rely on what I've got."* Sounds logical. Almost.
— Let's start with the fact that you can't prove my involvement…
— Don't forget, everyone else's alibis were proven that night…
*"I knew it might not work, but I tried anyway…"* — otherwise, why even speak?
A moment flashed in his mind. A gunshot. The bathroom. Seven bodies. *Seven!* That can't just be a coincidence.
— What about the number of shells in the shotgun? Sheryl said…
And suddenly — laughter. Laughter you'd want to bottle and toss into the sea. Let the seagulls choke on it.
— Exactly, — said the witch. Like a verdict. Like a compliment.
— What was *that*? — Aragi was genuinely shocked. *Too* shocked.
— Hm? What do you mean?
*She was reading his thoughts.* This whole time. Or just now. Or *always*.
— Whatever. Just surprised. Witches are nothing but trouble…
— Really? That's small-time… want me to show you something *truly* interesting?
— Why the sudden generosity? — Aragi cuts in. And rightly so.
— Got carried away, — she replies. — Your arguments are so weak I nearly fell asleep.
Aragi was left with one last card. His final ace in the hole. And if it failed — all was lost.
— The door opening, — Aragi declared.
And the most crucial move began.
— In the first game, on the second day, Yahweh opened the door. In the second — Sheryl. Why?
He answered himself. Magic. Manipulation. A world reset — and new rules. A new stage. A new performance.
The witch wasn't surprised. But… was she impressed?
— You really are an interesting person.
It sounded almost like praise. Almost like acknowledgment. Almost like… an invitation?
Aragi pressed on.
— In other words, Yahweh couldn't open the door — because you changed the rules. But you made a mistake. A glitch. And now it's all exposed.
The final strike. A blow straight to the heart of her game.
— You've prepared quite well…
But — her face was radiant. With joy. With excitement. That *someone was finally playing well*.
— Except it's nothing like you think!
And again — laughter.
— Then prove me wrong! — Aragi doesn't back down.