~There are events that don't kill you… but split you into two.~
1. The Pandora Box I Opened Myself
The evening sky turns red again in my memory—
the same color I now see from my bedroom window.
As if time circles back only to force me to face the wound I once abandoned.
That memory lived like a lie I accepted as truth for years.
Like Pandora's box—the longer it stays buried, the more terrifying what it holds inside.
I opened it myself.
With my own hands.
With full awareness.
And from that moment on,
there was no way back.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
2. A Day That Should Have Been Ordinary
Room assignments were random. This time, Hiroshi shared a room with several of his close friends. I wasn't much different—my roommates were classmates, including one who had often been my group partner on school projects.
The other two were quiet and distant, yet their silence felt calming. No awkwardness—just a light presence, like shadows that stay without pressing in.
Compared to staying with Hiroshi and his noisy circle, this room felt like a small oasis. A place to breathe. To be still for a while. To let my thoughts drift without interruption.
The first day at the villa passed without any sign of danger.
It began with room assignments, continued with lunch together, and a walk among Edo-style buildings that looked like stage sets—quiet corners filled with stories. Simple moments, but they left a gentle imprint on memory.
Then came the warm steam of the hot spring—the main attraction, soothing both body and mind. Even though we visited the site, we weren't scheduled to actually bathe on the first day. Our turn was set for the second day at five in the afternoon—pleasure deliberately delayed, as if waiting for a quieter, more intimate hour.
A time that now feels like a mark of fate.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
3. Fifteen Minutes
While soaking in the bath, the world felt perfect.
Red dusk sky.
Rising steam.
Birdsong.
Children's laughter—still unaware that within hours, something would be lost forever.
Hiroshi went back to the room.
He said he left something behind.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Unease began to bite at the edges of my thoughts.
I remembered his parents' faces.
His mother's request.
Please take care of him.
What would I say if something happened to him? If he was hurt somewhere quiet and unseen? It would feel like betraying the trust they had given me so sincerely.
Leaving the warm bath felt like tearing away my own calm. Heavy—but I told myself it would only be a moment. I would bring him back, make sure he was safe, then return.
I stepped out of the hot spring.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
4. The Door I Should Never Have Found
My first destination was Hiroshi's room. I knocked and called his name several times. No answer. When I opened the door, the room was empty.
I headed back toward the bath path, but my mind stayed restless. I decided to circle the villa for a bit, hoping I'd run into them by chance.
The corridor was long.
Quiet.
At the far end stood a small door—half hidden by a fence and general neglect.
I only noticed it when the day was nearly dark.
My awareness shifted slightly.
And in that shift, I heard a whisper—
one of Hiroshi's roommates.
I ran toward the sound without thinking.
Not knowing that those steps would become the most important—
and most cursed—steps of my life.
The door was heavy.
It creaked open.
Behind it stretched a narrow passage leading toward the back wall of the bath area.
Voices.
Girls laughing.
Water sounds.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
5. What Hiroshi Was Actually Doing
I wasn't very good at guessing—but when I heard the girls' voices more clearly beyond the wall, suspicion slowly took shape. Maybe this path connected the men's and women's bath areas to the central courtyard.
My worry that Hiroshi might be caught up in something reckless pushed me forward.
And there they were.
Hiroshi.
Kenta.
One other friend.
They had opened a small gap in the wooden wall.
I understood the situation before my mind even finished processing what I saw.
Kenta rushed toward me and covered my mouth.
"Quiet."
In that instant—
I knew what they were doing.
And for the first time in my life,
I felt disgust toward someone I called a friend.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
6. A Mistake Called Sympathy
I grabbed Hiroshi's hand.
"Let's go."
I chose to believe a comforting lie—
that he was there because he was pressured.
The truth, which I still struggle to accept, was this:
He wanted to be there.
He pulled his hand away.
He even asked me to join them.
I refused. We argued in tense whispers.
I was still a fifteen-year-old who believed a friend could be saved with words alone.
I was wrong.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
7. The Final Seconds Before the World Cracked
Humans are sensitive to irregularities. Not coincidence—something psychological, a quiet alarm when behavior feels off.
Like a story about a wife who sensed betrayal not from proof, but from small unnatural changes—sudden excuses, unfamiliar complaints, unusual details. What is out of character often reveals more than confession.
Ironically, attempts to hide truth often expose it.
But I chose to close every path of suspicion toward Hiroshi. I let my feelings guide me instead of caution. Protecting something fragile felt more important than confronting something wrong.
We argued for about ninety seconds. I told them to stop. They refused.
"Fine. If that's what you want, I'm leaving. You deal with the consequences if you're caught," I said, exhausted.
"Where are you going?" Hiroshi asked.
"Back to the bath. Don't worry—I won't report you."
I turned to leave.
He tapped my shoulder.
"I'm canceling," he said after a pause. "You're right. Too risky. But I need to grab something I left nearby first."
"Want me to come with you?"
"No. Wait here. Let me borrow your phone—I need the flashlight. Mine's dead."
I laughed at the irony—someone planning something inappropriate, yet forgetting to charge his own phone.
That was my real sin:
I trusted him
when I should have been alert.
He walked down the narrow corridor.
I waited—
expecting him to return with the others.
I kept waiting.