The light was blinding when it came.
One moment, they were climbing the final stair of the tower, their bodies trembling, clothes stained with blood. The next, they were standing in the middle of an empty street at dawn. The air was fresh, too fresh, as if mocking the stench of iron still clinging to their hands.
For a long time, no one spoke.
Aya clung to Arata's arm like a child who had just survived a nightmare. Her eyes were red, swollen from crying, but she wouldn't let go. Haruto stood a few paces away, hands shaking at his sides, his jaw locked so tightly veins stood out in his neck. Riku leaned against a lamppost, his face pale, breathing hard, hatred burning behind his eyes.
Ren? She stretched her arms above her head and smiled faintly, like someone stepping out of a theater after watching a good show. "Well," she murmured, "that was entertaining."
Arata said nothing. He simply looked at the morning sky, his face unreadable.
They tried to scatter, to return to their normal lives, but the tower stayed with them.
Aya followed Arata everywhere in the days after, her voice soft, trembling: "If you're not with me, I can't breathe, Arata-kun." She stared at him too long, too close, like a girl drowning and clutching at the only thing keeping her afloat.
Haruto avoided him, but the rage in his eyes was constant. He drank too much. He snapped at coworkers. And at night, he dreamed of Arata's calm voice saying That's one.
Riku threw himself into work, pretending the world hadn't changed. But his hands shook when he typed. His reflection seemed to smirk back at him. He couldn't forget the confession: I don't see people as human.
Miyako Ren, however, grew bolder. She sent Arata messages at odd hours. "I wonder how many you'll break in the next game." Sometimes, she would appear outside his office building, leaning casually against the wall as if waiting for him. When he asked nothing, she only smiled.
Arata himself slipped easily into routine. The office. The train. The quiet dinners. He lived as though nothing had happened, but something in his gaze was sharper now, stripped of its timid mask. He no longer hunched his shoulders or avoided eye contact. His coworkers noticed the change but said nothing.
At night, when he stared into his bathroom mirror, he thought of the glass in the tower — how it had smiled back at him.
The world felt flimsy, like paper over steel.
One week later, the message came.
"The Second Game will begin soon. Prepare yourselves."
It appeared on their phones, their computers, their televisions. There was no escaping it.
Aya clutched her chest, trembling but smiling through her tears. "It's starting again… we'll be together again, Arata-kun."
Haruto punched a hole through his wall. Riku cursed under his breath. Ren only licked her lips, whispering, "Finally."
And Arata… he simply smiled faintly, like someone who had been waiting all along.
The Tower Game had ended.
The Army Game was about to begin.