Even in his dazed state, Lee Haru burned every change he observed in Zero into his memory. He had to gather whatever information he could—his survival depended on it.
“Ugh… ngh…”
But the unrelenting, violent Guiding left him utterly defenseless. Eventually, the whites of Haru’s eyes began to roll back.
Even after his body went limp, Zero continued to drain him without pause, siphoning off every last trace of Guiding energy from within.
***
“God… everything hurts…”
It felt like he had just finished an extreme military training session. Every muscle in his body ached, and his eyelids were so swollen it felt like glutinous rice cakes were stuck on top of them.
He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. The last thing he remembered was blacking out while Guiding Zero. Now, he had woken up in a pitch-black room.
“I’m gonna lose my mind in here… Just like that white room—but in a whole different way.”
The bed frame was black. The blanket, also black. The walls were completely covered in jet-black paint, and even the nightstand beside the bed was the same.
The only light came from a ceiling lamp and the dim glow of a small desk lamp perched on the nightstand.
“How much time has passed…?”
Each word scratched at his raw throat like sandpaper. Hoping for the best, he reached out and groped around the nightstand—but no water bottle.
You would think that if someone had passed out from over-Guiding, they would at least be given a drink.
Just in case, he shifted his body. His underwear and clothes were still on.
Judging by the fact that he had been left lying face-down on the bed without even a blanket, it looked like he had been dumped here the moment the Guiding ended.
“So thirsty…”
He tried to gather his thoughts, but the dryness in his throat made it impossible. The thirst was so intense it drowned out his hunger entirely.
Like a newborn fawn, his legs trembled and lacked strength, but he managed to drag himself out of the room.
He paused at the doorway, listening closely for any signs of life. He was trying to sense whether Zero might be nearby—but he soon let out a dry laugh.
Even at the mansion, those S-rank Espers had snuck up on him so silently that he lost count of how many times he had been startled.
There was no way his ears could pick up on them—unless they intentionally made themselves known.
Resigned, Haru leaned against the wall and began wandering the house, searching for the kitchen. If he remembered correctly, there had been a table next to the living room where he had Guided Zero.
“Excuse me…?”
After trudging down a long hallway, he finally spotted a familiar-looking sofa—the kind that sticks in your memory after just one glance. The living room was empty.
He called out hesitantly, but no response came. Haru, still wary, quickened his pace and made his way to the refrigerator.
“…Even the fridge is black.”
Come to think of it, the group was called “Black.” Their leader was clearly obsessed with the color.
But black or not, as long as there was food inside, it did not matter.
The fridge was a large, double-door model. Haru gripped both handles and, with a sliver of hope, flung the doors open wide.
A gust of cold air from both the fridge and freezer hit his face.
“…What the hell is this?”
The greater the hope, the sharper the disappointment.
Though the fridge towered over him in size, its contents were pitiful: a few bottles of water, some beer, and a couple of cans of Spam.
The freezer was completely empty.
Still gaping, he noticed something odd—the frosted interior was streaked with pink in scattered patches.
Some spots were as large as two palms side by side, while others were smaller, spaced out unevenly.
“That… kinda looks like blood.”
He muttered without thinking, then slammed the freezer shut with a shudder.
He desperately hoped the image forming in his mind was not reality.
Instead, he grabbed a bottle of water and examined the cap carefully.
He checked for any sign it had been opened. Thankfully, the seal appeared untouched.
It was still possible someone had injected something inside with a syringe, but he was far too parched to care.
“Ugh… ngh…”
His hands were so weak it took forever just to twist off the cap. The rough edge scraped at his palm, making it sting.
After rinsing his mouth and spitting into the sink a few times, he chugged the rest of the bottle in one go.
The water was so cold from the fridge it made the back of his head ache, but his throat gulped it down again and again.
“Krahhh…”
Letting out a groan like a middle-aged man, Haru crushed the empty bottle in his hand. The rush of hydration felt like he had just downed a healing potion—strength was slowly returning to his limbs.
“Better bring some water back to the room, just in case.”
There was nothing to eat besides canned Spam, but thankfully, there were over ten bottles of water visible at a glance.
He took five and set them on the table, then grabbed the three cans of Spam—the only food available.
“Surely he is not petty enough to get pissed over some food, right?”
But he could not be certain. It was not like it was anything expensive, but based on everything that guy had done so far, even touching his stuff without permission seemed like a good enough reason for him to lash out.
“Better eat it before he takes it away.”
That was when anxiety surged within him.
If he was going to get hit anyway, then he might as well take the blows on a full stomach. That thought alone gave him urgency.
He scoured the kitchen, but not a single spoon or fork could be found. In the end, Haru had no choice but to yank the Spam straight from the can.
Gripping the half-palm-sized slab of Spam in one hand, he bit into it in small, cautious nibbles.
“So salty… but damn, it tastes good…”
It made sense—it was a product famously dubbed a “rice thief,” designed to be eaten with hot, white rice.
Eating it raw, straight from the can, filled his mouth with a briny intensity, but the savory depth was equally strong.
Haru opened another bottle of water and used it as a stand-in for rice, polishing off the entire can of Spam in a matter of moments.
He even sucked the salty residue off his fingers before hiding the empty can in a corner of the kitchen.
Then he took three more water bottles and the remaining two cans of Spam and stashed them carefully beneath the bed in the room where he had first regained consciousness. Only after securing his supplies did he head to the bathroom to wash up.
There was toothpaste, but no toothbrush. He squeezed a dollop onto the tip of his finger and brushed his teeth as best he could.
“Come to think of it… I didn’t wash up at all yesterday.”
After he had thrown up everything in his stomach, that bastard had hoisted him up and tossed him into the shower—telling him to clean himself up.
But Haru, gripped by the terror that any action could lead to his death, had simply curled up and dug himself into a mental hole. In that state, the bastard had reappeared and dragged him out to the living room.
“Oh… so that’s why he only touched my face and neck?”
Looking back, his whole body had been soaked but unwashed. He might have even smelled faintly sour.
Funny how that ended up working in his favor.
If he had actually followed instructions and scrubbed himself from head to toe, it was entirely possible the Guiding would have involved even more invasive, full-body contact than yesterday.
Being forcibly Guided while choking had been painful enough to make him lose consciousness—but compared to what else could have happened, it had almost felt merciful.
It seemed quite a bit of time had passed since then. His once-soaked clothes had completely dried, and the bedding no longer felt even remotely damp.
Despite having been choked to the point of fainting, the reflection in the mirror showed his neck was spotless—not a single bruise.
That alone suggested one thing: the bastard was not planning to kill him. At least, not yet.
“Well… I’m fed. He seems to be gone. Might as well figure out where the hell I am.”
Cowering in fear and doing nothing felt like a waste now. This quiet moment alone was too valuable to pass up. Haru left the room and began a proper search of the house.
“Three rooms, one bathroom…”
It was slightly smaller than the officetel he had lived in before, and yet somehow felt emptier.
The bedroom where he had woken up had nothing but a bed, a nightstand, and a lamp, all placed in a wide-open space. The living room had only a sofa and a low table.
Of the two remaining rooms, one had nothing but a single chair sitting squarely in the middle. The last was locked, making it impossible to see inside.
The room with the chair made his skin crawl. It reignited the same dread he had felt when he looked into the freezer. Dried bloodstains surrounded the chair. He had opened the door—and immediately closed it again.
“No idea how long I’ve been here. The doors are locked. No windows, either.”
He had spent a good thirty minutes searching the place for information, but had uncovered almost nothing.
He had even checked what appeared to be the front door, but it had a security system on the inside. After trying a few combinations on the panel, he had given up.
It was not a number code—it used a fingerprint lock.
“…Is the ventilation even working in here?”
The thought struck him out of nowhere, and dread pooled in his stomach. Now that he considered it, the place was completely sealed off.
He resolved never to touch the gas line. There were no cooking tools anyway, so using it was not feasible—but he had briefly considered grilling the Spam, at least on the surface.
Not anymore. The risk was too great.
