The wind howled outside the wooden house on the western slope of Kobashi Island. Rain tapped against the tiled roof as lightning flashed in the far distance, casting brief, sharp shadows of the mountains onto the sea.
Inside the dim room, lit only by a single oil lantern, an old woman sat on a tatami mat, her back hunched like the arch of a bridge worn by time. Her wrinkled fingers traced invisible lines in the air as she spoke.
Her granddaughter, barely nine, hugged her knees and listened with wide eyes.
"Do you know why we bow before the shrine, Yuki?" the old woman asked.
Yuki shook her head slowly.
The old woman nodded, her voice turning low, like a whisper carried by the waves.
"Long, long ago... this island wasn't even on the map. It was nothing but trees, rocks, and the cries of seagulls. Then one day, a boat washed ashore — broken and barely held together."
"A boat?" Yuki whispered.
"Yes. In that boat were two people. A young man — a fisherman — and a woman in strange, royal robes. She was no ordinary girl. She was the daughter of a mainland emperor... a princess who had run away from her palace to be with the man she loved."
"They ran away?" Yuki gasped.
The old woman nodded, her cloudy eyes reflecting the lantern's flicker.
"They eloped, escaping the chains of status and rule. But the sea punished them. A storm tore through their journey and left them stranded here — on this very island."
"They were happy here," the woman continued, "for a while. They built a hut by the shore. He fished, and she sang songs she learned in the palace."
"But then..." the old woman's voice dipped.
"What?" Yuki asked, leaning forward.
"She fell ill. A strange disease crept into her body. Her skin began to rot in patches. Her hair turned to ash. Her beauty faded. They called it the 'Decay Curse.' No doctor or herb could stop it."
Yuki's eyes trembled. "Did he leave her?"
The old woman gave a slow shake of her head.
"No. He stayed. He cried every night but never left her side. Then... one day, he climbed the East Mountain and lit a fire by the cliff. A wizard came — no one knows from where — and he made a deal."
"A deal?" Yuki blinked.
"He offered his life," the old woman said, her voice nearly a growl now. "In exchange for the princess's health. The wizard agreed. The man's soul was torn from him that night."
The fire in the lantern hissed, as if reacting to the words.
"The next morning, the princess awoke, healed — whole again. Her beauty returned. But she was alone. The fisherman had gone to the water to repair the boat, he wonder he is still alive no soul was taken , he thought maybe that he is a good wizard."
"That same day," the old woman continued, "her father's ships found her. The emperor's army stormed the island and took her back — to the palace she had abandoned."
"But she didn't want to go!" Yuki protested.
"Perhaps," the woman said. "But she was too afraid. Her people thought she had been kidnapped. They saw her love as disgrace. They beat the fisherman until he bled."
Yuki covered her mouth.
"That night," the woman said, her voice now cold and sharp, "he limped into the palace. The gates were open, for it was the day of her engagement ceremony. To another man."
"No!" Yuki shouted.
"The king saw him barging in so he said, 'If my daughter chooses you, I will allow the marriage.'"
"He smiled," the woman said slowly, "hope returning to his shattered body. He turned to her... and she looked away. Silent. Ashamed. Afraid."
"She said no."
Yuki began to tremble.
"That was the end," the old woman said, leaning closer. "His heart broke. But worse... something inside him twisted."
"He cursed her," she whispered. "He stood on the palace steps and cried out:
'All who stand close to you will perish... and be forgotten. Their names erased by time.'"
"And then... he vanished."
Lightning cracked outside. The lantern flickered again.
Yuki didn't speak.
The old woman leaned back. "The curse spread fast. Her fiancé died mysteriously that very night. Then her mother. Her best friend. One by one... they vanished. No one remembered their names as if they were not born though they knew they were present but not a image of them in mind or in any albums ."
After decades..
"But someone broke the curse," she added. "A brave man, years later, offered prayers and sacrifice. This shrine," she pointed toward the shadowed hill behind their house, "was built to honor the cursed soul of fisherman, the lover. So we remember."
Yuki stared into the lantern.
"And now?" she asked.
The old woman smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes.
"Now? We tell the story. We remember the fisherman. We honor his love. Because if we forget... the curse returns."
Just then, the wind outside stopped.
And somewhere, far in the mountains, a faint sound of waves crashing echoed — though the tide ...
.
.
Bix curled under the blanket, but sleep never came. His thoughts swirled like the sea outside — dark, chaotic, endless. Miyuri's scream. The blood. The way her lifeless body had just... appeared.
He sat up, drenched in sweat.
He shivered.
His eyes drifted toward the wall. Room 37. That was his room. Hiroshima was two doors down. And Miyuri… she had said Room 135, hadn't she?
He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
Throwing on his jacket, Bix stepped out into the quiet hallway. The dim hotel corridor stretched ahead, humming faintly from old fluorescent lights. He made his way down the stairs and reached the reception counter. The young woman there was half-asleep, scrolling through her phone.
"Excuse me," Bix said softly.
She looked up, startled. "Yes?"
"I… I wanted to see the CCTV footage. From the third floor. Just a few hours ago."
She blinked at him. "Sorry, sir. That's not allowed for guests."
"It's important. Please," he said.
She began to shake her head, but he gently slid a folded note across the counter — a crisp bill from his wallet.
She paused, then slowly turned the screen toward him.
The footage was grainy, black and white. They rewound the timestamp. He saw himself walking down the corridor, Hiroshima entering his room, and then… nothing.
The space where Miyuri had stood earlier — completely empty.
His heart skipped. He leaned forward.
"She was right there," he whispered. "Standing exactly there. You see?"
The receptionist frowned in confusion. " Thre is who ..? I see none...."
He nodded slowly. "Okay… then the register. Can I see the room bookings?"
She hesitated. "That's not—"
He pulled out another note. Her resistance dissolved again.
She opened the old registry log and turned it to the current date.
Bix ran his finger along the entries.
Room 134: Occupied.
Room 136: Occupied.
Room 135: — blank. No name. No check-in time. No signature.
Just a wide, empty space. As if it had never existed.
"Why is this empty?" Bix asked, a chill crawling up his back. "Why is Room 135 missing?"
The receptionist blinked, visibly confused. "Maybe… maybe a mistake. Maybe it's under maintenance?"
"But she was staying there," he insisted. "Miyuri I saw her going ."
The woman checked her system again. "We have no active keycards or records for 135. Maybe it was closed long ago…"
She looked bix and asked whether he is alright.
But Bix stared at the page. It felt wrong. Like the room had been erased from memory — just like Magic.
He stepped back.
"I need some air," he muttered.
Before he could leave, the receptionist added, "Be careful, sir. The police said there might be a killer on the island."
Bix gave a silent nod and walked out through the glass doors.
---
The road outside was empty and dim, washed in orange from a distant streetlamp. The salt in the air was thick. A lone cat dashed across the pavement and disappeared into the bushes.
He crossed the road and stepped onto the narrow beach just in front of the hotel. The waves whispered in the dark, lapping at the sand. His shoes sank slightly as he walked the shoreline.
The moon hung low over Kobashi Island, its silver light dull and smudged by the salty mist.
Bix walked alone along the shore, the sea murmuring to his right, the hotel far behind. His breath clouded the air despite the summer heat.
Then—he saw someone ahead, standing still where the sand met the slope of trees.
Goto.
"Goto?" Bix called out. "What are you doing out here… with no light?"
Goto turned slowly. The moonlight revealed a strange smile stretching across his pale face.
He raised his right arm casually and said, "Just enjoying the breeze."
His voice was too calm. Too smooth.
Still, something about it settled Bix for a moment.
Goto stepped forward and said, "You remember those three good days? When nothing was wrong?"
Bix smiled faintly, the unease softening just a bit. "Yeah… during the cultural fest in Class 11. You got sick on day one. But still showed up just for the fireworks."
"And we shared that terrible takoyaki," Goto said, chuckling.
Bix nodded. "You almost threw up on Sora's shoes."
Goto laughed. "Worth it. That night felt endless."
They stood in silence for a moment, swept in that warmth.
Then Bix tilted his head and said, "You remember how I once mixed up your twin daughters ..?"
Goto squinted. "Mitsu and Satsu? Yeah. You made me think one of them went to school while stayed home due to fever
But in reality both stayed , cuz you did some makeup and they were similar."
And also that one time..
"I told Mitsu you were mad at her for eating his sandwich," Bix grinned, "and told Satsu you found her light novel stash. I swear, you fell for it."
Goto smiled. "Well, they're identical."
"I thought you had one daughter, not two," Bix stated.
Goto stiffened.
"What?"
Bix narrowed his eyes. "I mean… you just said three good days. But you only ever had one daughter."
Goto's smile faded. His eyes trembled.
"I… I just played along…," he mumbled.
Bix took a step back. His voice was quiet. "Who are you?"
Goto stared at him, still trying to smile. "I'm Goto. Your friend."
But Bix's eyes dropped to Goto's right arm.
It was moving freely — swinging with ease.
That shouldn't be possible.
Goto had shattered his arm years ago during a bike accident. Since then, he wore a stiff metal casing that wrapped his forearm tight like armor. It never moved like that.
Bix's voice was low now. Cold.
"That arm shouldn't move like that."
Goto's face tensed. Bix stepped back again.
"I'm calling the cops," he said, fear bubbling in his throat.
But Goto just grinned.
"No," he said softly. "Don't call the cops."
He leaned forward.
"Call the God."
His grin widened — too wide.
His mouth tore open at both ends like wet cloth, splitting across his cheeks.
Triangular teeth — jagged, black, wet with rot — glinted in the moonlight.
Then… Bix noticed something else.
The sand around Goto shimmered faintly, silver under the moon.
But no shadow stretched behind him.
Bix's breath stopped.
The creature giggled.
The giggle turned to a laugh.
The laugh became a howl.
Then the skin around its mouth peeled back, revealing veins like seaweed. Its torso sagged, half-decayed, flesh sloshing like something pulled from a deep trench.
Bix turned and ran.
But the thing jumped and — its inhumanly hand had grabbed his ankle.
Bix screamed, tumbling into the sand.
He kicked with his other leg — once, twice — landing a sharp heel into the creature's jaw.
It didn't budge.
The monster began to pull.
Swallowing him.
Its mouth gaped wider than any human should, devouring him whole. First his feet. Then his legs. His waist.
Bix clawed at the sand, screaming, eyes wide with panic.
"HELP! ANYONE—"
But the beach stayed silent.
The thing's breath smelled like salt and rotting skin. It reached his chest, then his shoulders.
He screamed in pain as it clamped down on his neck—and with a sickening crunch—
His head was bitten clean off.
---
Darkness.
A voice echoed from that Creature..
"Oi, Bix! Snap out of it!"
Pain bloomed in his cheek.
A punch.
Bix's eyes flew open.
Then, out of nowhere—WHAM.
Tento walked up and punched Bix straight in the face.
Bix staggered backward, hitting the wall.
A stunned silence followed.
Tento turned to Hiroshima. "What the hell are you doing still hanging around this murderer?"
"Come on. You're better than this. Join us. We'll stay on the clean side."
Hiroshima stared at him blankly, then chuckled.
"Oh please," he said, brushing off his shoulder. "You still talk like we're in high school. Grow up, musclehead."
Tento's face darkened. "He doesn't belong here."
And there—by the front desk—stood Miyuri, alive. Looking at her phone. Smiling faintly.
Exactly like earlier that day.
Bix touched his throat, his chest, his legs.
He was whole.
No bite marks. No blood.
He had leapt back — just a few hours.
His death was gone.
But the fear remained.
Somewhere beneath the skin of this island… something was watching.
Something he couldn't outrun.
Not even through time.....