I shouldn’t have been sitting on creaking wooden bleachers.

A second ago, my face was pressed against cold dirt and the stench of old paper. Yet now, a blinding spotlight burned into my retinas, drowned out by the deafening roars of a high school crowd.

"Kyaaa! Ishihara!!"

Beside me, girls were laughing and squealing with joy, jumping up and down, pointing at the figure waving from the field below.

Art performances. School uniforms. Unfamiliar faces with no names in my memory.

"Hey, Ishi, look down! He's waving this way, crazy!" The girl to my right enthusiastically patted my shoulder, her force far too much for a normal greeting.

"See! He's clearly looking at Ishi!" the girl next to her exclaimed, giggling as she nudged my arm roughly. "Quickly wave back, Ishi! Don't embarrass us, your face is as stiff as a museum statue!"

My eyes, slowly adjusting to the light, caught sight of a man standing upright in front of the stands, directly under the spotlight.

Our gazes met.

The next second, his smile spread perfectly—his lips lifted into a friendly curve that contrasted with the chill of the night, instantly causing the girls around me to shriek hysterically, covering their mouths with their hands.

The hands, that had been resting on my shoulder, were now pushing me forward—urging me on.

"There! He's smiling at you! Go ahead, come over or blow him a kiss!"

But I didn't smile back.

My face remained stiff, unmoving, as if my facial muscles had been frozen by an unnatural chill. My mind was completely blank, and my heart was unmoved—even as the man spread his arms wide, inviting me into a warm embrace.

What were they expecting? What did he expect? Me jumping into his arms?

Those smiling eyes were clearly expecting something—they felt like a mask painted over a predatory trap.

Perhaps that was exactly why I stood up and walked away, leaving him behind without a second thought.

⊹ ⁛ ⊹

My feet wandered aimlessly through the dimly lit hallway. The clock on the wall read 9:30 PM, but its hands remained frozen—no ticking sound broke the eerie quiet. I quickened my pace until I arrived at a well-lit courtyard.

There was neither moon nor stars in the sky, only pitch-black void that felt as hollow as the corners of my heart. I looked around, but I couldn't find a way out of this place.

Maybe I'm expecting too much, I thought.

Overcome with fatigue, I finally slumped onto a park bench. The chill of the night wind pressed against my skin—it felt too real, too vivid to be a simple dream.

"My God... where am I now?" I whispered softly, my fingers gripping the edge of the freezing wooden bench.

Lowering my gaze, I realized I was no longer wearing my casual clothes, but the same school uniform as the girls in the stands. Well, I admit it was nice, but there was still no attachment—as if my body and this uniform were two separate entities.

Step, step…

Quiet footsteps approached from the hallway I'd exited from. My head remained bowed until a pair of black shoes stopped at the edge of my vision.

I watched them for a long moment, but they didn't budge. The hem of his robe fluttered gently, despite the lack of wind.

"You'd rather look at my shoes than my face, wouldn't you?"

The voice was soft and warm, carrying an unsettling familiarity—as if we were close friends. I looked up lazily, only to be met by his soft, amused chuckle.

It was him—the same figure who had smiled so brightly and extended his arms toward me earlier. Our gazes met again with a different feeling in my heart.

His slender frame—wearing an ankle-length black robe with a hood that had been deliberately pulled down—made him look nothing like a student, although his face could still easily pass among high schoolers.

"I don't mind how long you admire my face, but you need to know that this place will soon collapse," his voice rang out again, carrying a sudden, grim seriousness that caught me off guard.

My brow furrowed instantly. "Collapse?"

He didn't answer or explain further, but the silence was enough to trigger my panic.

My gaze wandered again. The trees, the park lights, the school building, and even the bench beneath me were slowly melting, as if the entire scene were a watercolor painting running in the rain.

Thick paint dripped onto the lawn, hissing as it turned into a pool of corrosive water that spewed sharp steam.

​I bolted up. The smell of rust immediately hit my nose. Amidst the chaos, he remained perfectly still, reaching his hand out toward me.

​"Who are you?" I glared at him, my instincts flaring. "Why should I trust a demon?"

​"You shouldn't," he smirked, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "But you have no other choice. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to burn here and never wake up in your little shed."

My heart leaped into my throat. How does he know about the shed?

​Before I could demand an answer, he stepped across the corrosive floor—unbothered as the acid ate at his shoes—and grabbed my wrist without permission.

"Hey! What the hell is this?!" I yanked back, my knuckles white against his sleeve. "Let go—"

"Calm down, Sweet Lady. You'll ruin your clothes if you keep struggling on that corroded floor," he whispered near my ear, pulling me flush against his chest before I could pull away. "You can repay your debt to me after I get you out alive."

My face pressed against his soft robe. I could see nothing but darkness, yet it felt different now—no longer empty. It was calming, filled with a faint rumble that sounded like crashing waves.

WHOOSH!

My body felt weightless, pulled up from some unknown depths. A biting chill rushed through my bones.

"Next time, don't wander off too far."

The echo of his deep baritone whispered directly into my ear, followed by a deafening, high-frequency ringing.

GASP!

My eyes snapped open as my body bolted upright on the hard floor.

​I gasped for air, greedily inhaling oxygen as if I had just drowned at the bottom of the ocean. My chest heaved erratically, my heart pounding violently against my ribs until it ached.

​"Hah... hah..."

The cold sensation of his robe still clung tightly to the skin of my face, neck, and chest—so tangibly real. My trembling fingers reached up to touch my collar, trying to channel any remaining warmth to dispel the burning frost.

​My ears were still ringing. The scent of old dust and decaying paper slowly brought me back to reality.

The shed ceiling. A cell phone with a flickering screen on the floor. A pile of my grandfather's books.

I was back. And I was completely alone.

But deep down, I knew... I would meet him again.

Him, the Black Robe.