The door behind Hiragi dissolved into ink, vanishing like breath on a mirror. Ahead lay a field of crimson tents under a sky stitched with meat and thread. A distorted merry-go-round spun slowly in the distance, its horses made of sewn-together faces, smiling and weeping in sync.
Welcome to the Carnival of Skin.
A thin man in a red tuxedo greeted him at the entrance. His face was stretched unnaturally long, as if sculpted from wet clay then pulled by invisible strings.
"Another contestant," the man crooned. "We haven't had a Void-born in centuries. How delicious."
Behind him, the carnival pulsed with life. Limbless clowns danced. Children made of wax laughed and bled confetti. A woman with no skin played violin strings stretched from her own tendons. There was no music. Only the echo of twitching.
Hiragi clenched his fists. "I'm not here to play."
"Oh, but here in the Spiral," the man leaned close, voice dripping like spoiled honey, "you must. Every layer demands it. Every truth costs a skin."
A shriek tore the sky apart. Something descended.
A parade.
A grotesque procession slithered through the red field. Giants stitched from hundreds of torsos. Dancers with no eyes. Masks that moved on their own.
And at its heart—a float carrying someone Hiragi knew.
"No..."
It was his mother.
But her head was replaced with a mask shaped like his own face, weeping black tears.
The crowd chanted in a tongue only dreamers and madmen understood. The parade halted before him.
A masked child stepped down. It handed Hiragi a card.
Rule of Spiral Two: You cannot leave until you give up the skin that holds your guilt.
Hiragi's hand trembled. His arms began to itch—burn—as if remembering something carved long ago. Old scars. Older pain.
Suddenly—
Ishigami's voice rang in his mind.
"Don't fall into the theater, Hiragi. Not all shows are illusions. Some are memories wearing costumes."
Hiragi bit his lip. Blood dripped.
"Fine," he growled. "Let the show begin."
He stepped into the Carnival, toward the float.
Toward the memory that was not supposed to be alive.