Feel the fury closing in
All resistance wearing thin
Nowhere to run from all of this havoc
Nowhere to hide
From all of this madness, madness, madness
Madness, madness, madness

The lobby had changed back overnight. Just yesterday, it had been a dazzling wonderland of lights and bright colours. But the magic was gone. Now it was back to what it was before: a place where people cheered their leader as they sold their lives to him for the illusory hope of freedom.

I pulled the zip of my thin jacket a little higher and tried to move through the crowd as inconspicuously as possible. As always, the hall was packed with people crowding around the stairs and the entrance, waiting euphorically for Hatter's daily speech. The rhythmic clapping and chanting of his name echoed between the marble columns.

Hatter, Hatter, Hatter.

I carefully pushed past a few people, keeping my head down. The likelihood of Makoto turning up here was rather slim - as far as I knew, he didn't have a game to go to today. But still... just the thought of meeting him made me feel strangely tense.

I had to confront him sooner or later. Tell him that this kiss had been a mistake. That I was sorry. That I no longer felt anything for him.

But not today.

Today I didn't want to have to think about it. Today I just wanted to concentrate on the game.

The crowd almost swallowed me up as I continued to move through the rows, always careful not to attract anyone's attention.

But then, in the midst of the chaos of people, my eyes crossed with Kuina's. I quickly turned my head away, trying to look somewhere else.

But it was too late. She had already spotted me. And she certainly wasn't going to let me get away with it.

"Izzy! Hey, wait a minute!"

Damn.

I knew that running was pointless, so I stopped.

Kuina struggled towards me. Relief flitted across her face when she finally stood in front of me.

"Man, I'm glad to see you. Where were you yesterday? We've been looking for you everywhere. Are you all right?"

She scrutinised me carefully. I forced myself to smile and nodded.

"Sure, everything's fine. I just didn't take the alcohol so well. I went to the infirmary to get something for my headache and then went back to my room."

I wasn't sure why I was lying. Whether I just didn't want to tell her about the botched kiss or whether it was because of Chishiya.

Maybe it was both.

Kuina crossed her arms and looked at me reproachfully.

"You really could have let us hear from you. We were all worried about you. Thought the military had got their hands on you."

I grinned apologetically and brushed a strand of hair out of my face that had come loose from my plait.

"I'm sorry, honestly. I was just a bit rattled."

"Because of your ex?"

I froze.

"What makes you think that?"

Kuina sighed.

"Come on, Izzy. We all saw what happened. He nearly went for Chishiya, and right after that, you vanished into thin air. And breakfast this morning was super salty." She made a face, as if the taste still lingered. "Did you two argue?"

"Argue? Erm... no."

Kuina raised her eyebrows. She didn't believe a word I said. I tried to hold her gaze, but after a while I gave up.

"Maybe a little..." I mumbled quietly and stared at my scuffed trainers as if they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

Kuina scrutinised me for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, you don't have to tell me, but..." Her voice softened a little. "I just want to know one thing: are you okay? Honestly now."

I looked up. There was no more curiosity in her eyes, just honest concern.

I began to chew on my lower lip.

"I'll be fine. I think I just need a little distance from all this," I said as my fingers unconsciously played with the ribbon of my cardigan.

She furrowed her brow.

"Is that why you're here? Because you're up to a game? Honestly Izzy, you do realise there are less deathly ways to avoid someone, don't you?" she chuckled, giving me a playful little side swipe.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"But none of them will secure me extra visa days, will they?" I replied, putting on a careless grin.

She put her fingers under her chin thoughtfully.

"You're right about that. I have to play again too today. Hey, maybe we'll even get into a game together," she said with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye. "That would be awesome, wouldn't it?"

I smiled painfully.

"Yeah, sure!" I said, rolling my eyes. "What could be better than running for our lives together?"

She snorted softly.

"Well, it's better than dying alone, isn't it?"

Was it really?

It wasn't that I didn't want to be in a game with Kuina, but what if we didn't come out of it together - or if, in the worst case, we even had to kill each other? The very idea sent a cold shiver down my spine.

I forced myself to push the thought aside. What was the point of worrying now about something that might never happen?

Instead of answering, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my cardigan and looked around the crowd. The hall had become more manageable by now. Excited murmurs could now be heard from all sides. Some people lined up in front of the lottery drum, while others were already standing at the edge - gathered in small groups, their eyes fixed on the ticket numbers they had drawn.

"So? Are we going or what?"

Kuina snapped me out of my thoughts. She tilted her head and scrutinised me with that typical look - a mixture of curiosity and underlying concern.

I took a deep breath and nodded resolutely.

"Yes. Let's get this over with."

Together we joined the long queue.

When everyone had their ticket in their hands, we stood a little apart at the edge of the hall.

"On three?" I asked.

Kuina nodded.

"1...2...3."

At the same time, we unfolded our pieces of paper and compared the numbers.

"Four," said Kuina.

I pulled a face.

"Seven."

"Shit, that would have been too good." With a resigned sigh, she lowered the piece of paper. "Well, I guess it looks like we're back to fighting alone."

I stared thoughtfully at my piece of paper with the number 7 on it. Finally, a sly smile crept onto my lips.

"Well, maybe not," I said with a grin and waved the ticket in front of Kuina's face. "I have an idea..."

Kuina raised her eyebrows with interest and leant down towards me.

"Let's hear it."

Only a few minutes later, we made our way to the car park with the number 4. Two players were already standing next to the vehicle and seemed to be waiting for more passengers.

One of them was a young, lean man whose gaze twitched restlessly back and forth. I watched as he twirled his crumpled ticket between his fingers, lost in thought, while biting the fingernails of his other hand.

Perfect.

I set my sights on my victim and approached him with a casual attitude.

"Hey." I beamed at him with a broad smile. He raised his head in astonishment. "Let me guess. You're not particularly happy with your number?"

He blinked at me in confusion, as if he hadn't expected to be approached.

"Er... well." His gaze slid to his number again. "I don't know. It's just a number, isn't it?"

He shrugged, but it seemed forced, as if he was trying to convince himself that it meant nothing.

"Hmm, are you sure?" I tilted my head slightly, as if I recognised something ominous. "After all, the 4 stands for death. I've heard that the last players with that number all failed to return."

His eyes widened and he stared at me in disbelief.

"That... was probably just a coincidence. That's just some ridiculous superstition."

"One that exists for a reason, right?" I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Can I see your right hand?"

He frowned.

"What? Why?"

"Just for a moment, okay?"

I smiled mysteriously and he hesitantly held his hand out to me. His fingernails were fringed, as if he had gnawed them all off with his teeth. A nervous tic, then.

I turned it over and looked at his palm instead.

"Ah yes," I said, nodding as I studied his palm lines, tracing them with my fingers hovering over his hand as if deciphering something significant. "Just as I thought."

"What do you mean?"

His voice sounded an octave higher than before.

I sighed softly, as if wrestling with a bitter truth.

"The 4 is linked to the fate of bad luck, especially in fatal games," I explained, deadpan. "See this fine line here? That's your line of fate. It's interrupted. It indicates that one wrong decision could plunge you straight to your doom."

The man scrutinised his palm with interest.

"Oh, er...really?"

I nodded seriously and slowly let go of his hand to pull out my note.

"But today is your lucky day!" I smiled exaggeratedly charmingly and winked at him. "I have exactly what you need: a 7. It stands for new beginnings and cooperation. A team game that's sure to secure you victory. What do you say?"

He frowned deeply, his eyes travelling back and forth between my number and his. I raised my eyebrows expectantly, but he still didn't seem entirely convinced by my theory.

"Well, I don't know. If the 4 really is as bad luck as you say, why do you want it?"

"Well, I told you that there's a discrepancy with your fate line, which is why the 4 would be a risk for you today, but not for me," I said quickly. "So, do we have a deal?"

I held my lot out to him as if the swap had long already been done.

But he didn't move.

I sighed softly and glanced briefly at Kuina, who was also grimacing.

Looks like I'll have to go to plan B after all. I reached into my bag and pulled out a small bottle of strong ibuprofen.

"If you swap, I'll add these painkillers on top. They're always useful," I said in a low voice and shook them briefly as if I'd just thrown out some tasty bait.

This time his expression changed. A brief glint entered his eyes.

"Deal."

He almost snatched the tablets out of my hands and hastily pressed his lot into my hand.

"Goood luuuck!" I whistled after him as he headed for car park number 7.

I could have had it so much easier, but giving away the painkillers had been my last trump card, because even though I had free access to medication, it was rare in this world, even in the infirmary. But somehow my gut feeling told me that it was right to go to a game with Kuina today. She was standing just a few inches away and had been watching the game.

"I can't believe it," she squealed when I came up to her and waved the lottery ticket with the 4 triumphantly back and forth in front of her nose. She raised both hands and I smiled. "You're a fox, Izzy. Didn't think you'd be such an ace negotiator."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Well, maybe I just have a knack for business," I said, smiling modestly.

She shook her head, still mesmerised.

"But...can you really read palms?"

I snorted.

"Of course I don't. Makoto taught me a thing or two once, but this was just improvised."

Kuina burst out laughing.

"I can't believe it. I love it."

I smiled, pocketed the ticket with the 4 and took a deep breath.

It was done.

The last players gathered and when our group was finally complete, the engines began to roar all around us. The car park emptied rapidly as we climbed into our vehicle.

Only four people had drawn a 4 - four players, four fates.

As our vehicle rolled up, I leaned against the cold window and let my gaze wander over the site. The neon lights of the Beach gradually faded into the distance. Neither of us knew where this journey would take us and whether we would ever see this place again.

But at that moment, as the hotel behind us got smaller and smaller, it wasn't Makoto I was thinking about.

No.

I was thinking about Chishiya.

I wanted to see him again. To find out if there really was something between us - or if there ever could be.

My fingers unconsciously slid to the folded note tucked safely in my bra. A tiny piece of paper, hidden like a talisman. And I wondered once again if he was thinking of me at that moment.

The route we took led us far away from the main roads, out of the dense network of skyscrapers and into a neighbourhood that was completely foreign to me.

The further we drove, the greyer the surroundings became. The modern facades disappeared and made way for old-fashioned, drab concrete blocks. In between, a few half-hearted attempts to add colour to the desolation: a few yellowed playgrounds, painted walls, loveless green spaces.

Finally, a wooded area stretched out in front of us, looking almost ghostly in the gathering darkness. The last signpost directed us to an overgrown driveway, flanked by tall trees and overgrown fences.

There, half-hidden by ivy vines, was an old, rusty sign saying "welcome" in faded lettering:

黒川精神病院
昭和三十八年設立（1963年）

Kurokawa mental hospital
founded Showa 38 [1963]

"There's supposed to be a game here? I've seen crime scenes that looked more inviting," our driver grumbled, running his fingers through his light, reddish-grey hair.

"Whitmore, Koji Whitmore. Commissioner off duty - unfortunately without a badge, but with style. You can also call me Whitty or Inspector Moji if you like nicknames."

With these words he had introduced himself - with the self-confident grin of a man who thought he was more entertaining than he really was. His accent, his unusual name and the faded colour of his hair hinted at British origins, but the softer features on his face, the slightly almond-shaped eyes betrayed Asian roots. He had been talking for most of the journey, entertaining us with bad jokes, anecdotes from his supposed career and a fair amount of self-congratulation.

He was the exact opposite of his passenger: Aya. A young woman who hadn't uttered a single word during the entire journey. She was the personified silence - serious, introverted, with an almost tangible aura of aloofness. Her appearance was as striking as it was sombre: black dress, black boots, raven-black hair. Her skin looked almost ghostly pale, as if she hadn't seen the sunlight for years. She reminded me of one of those gothic Lolitas you sometimes see in Harajuku - a walking extreme between fashion and mystery. Unapproachable. And yes, somehow a little scary too. But still less unsettling than what awaited us outside the car window.

Ominously, I glanced outside. A huge complex of buildings stretched out before our eyes, covering the entire site and rising up from the shadows like a relic from a bygone era. It was a loveless building, angular, grey on grey, functional - a colossal fortress of concrete and steel.

Not a place where people were brought with the intention of healing them, but rather to lock them away forever.

But that seemed a long way back.

Unlike the other buildings on the way here, this one seemed to have already grown into the surrounding forest, as if nature had slowly reclaimed it. Wild vines and climbing plants were growing up the walls, broken window panes hung in loose frames, and where there might once have been paths, weeds were crawling out of the ground as if they wanted to swallow the site whole. The forest that once surrounded it was reaching out towards it - slowly but inexorably. A narrow crescent moon hung in the sky, shimmering silvery in the twilight, like an ominous omen above the treetops.

A brief chill crept up my arms, but I was sure it had nothing to do with the falling temperatures.

"Wow, cosy," Kuina said dryly. "The only thing missing is Sadako waving out of the window."

"The pain of the lost souls still hangs in the air. I can hear their distorted screams."

I almost flinched. The soft, toneless voice came from the passenger seat - Aya. For the first time since we set off, she had said something.

I exchanged fleeting glances with Kuina. The look on her face told me what I was thinking: okay, creepy, level 100.

"Is there still a return guarantee on exchanged tickets?" I mumbled with a nervous smile as we came to a halt in a large, empty car park.

The engine died down.

We got out without saying a word. Even Whitmore, the inspector, who had always had a casual quip on his lips, seemed momentarily speechless at the sight of the clinic building, which was apparently to be our playing arena for the evening. An earthy odour crept into my nose. Moss, mud and a hint of stale water. Possibly from a nearby pond.

I looked up and scrutinised the building in front of us with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Now that I thought about it, the late shift with Chishiya would probably have been the more pleasant alternative. Even a confrontation with Makoto seemed more tempting than entering this dilapidated building, which looked like something out of a bad horror film. But I had wanted it that way.

There was no turning back.

My gaze wandered over to Aya, who had closed her eyes and held her hands in front of her body in a strange, devout pose, as if she was trying to make contact with the spirit realm. Then suddenly her body began to tremble uncontrollably. She raised her arms, covering her ears with a pained expression.

"Hey, what's going on?" I asked in alarm.

Kuina and Whitmore also gave each other sceptical looks. Aya's eyes were still firmly closed, but her facial muscles began to twitch strangely, as if she was sensing something we could neither see nor hear.

"They... they don't want us to enter the place. They're telling us to turn back," she said in that monotone, leaden tone of voice.

Whitmore looked at Aya in silence for a moment, then clicked his tongue.

"Well, sure, the dead will object. Then why don't you tell them that we're behaving properly? If we have to, we'll even knock politely before we go in. It would be a shame if one of the ghosts had a heart attack."

He laughed heartily. Nobody laughed with him.

I saw Kuina roll her eyes in annoyance. Aya, meanwhile, had opened hers again and was staring as if in a trance at the gloomy building in front of us. By now I wasn't sure which gave me the creeps more: her or this place.

"It's too late to turn back now," Kuina said, crossing her arms. "So we'd better get this over with quickly before Aya carves a pentagram into the ground and exorcises us with holy water."

She was the first of us to turn round and head for the supposed entrance to the building. Aya mumbled something unintelligible to herself, but eventually decided to follow her.

Whitmore let out a tense giggle and made an exaggerated hand gesture towards the entrance.

"Ladies first."

I swallowed hard and involuntarily pulled my jacket tighter, as if it would protect me from what was to come. Then I started walking, Whitmore close behind me.

"Great," I muttered to myself. "Creepy building, weird people - can only get better."

At least Kuina was there. That meant I wasn't completely alone in this macabre nightmare.

A small consolation, but it was the only one I had.

The entrance area was only sparsely lit. Flickering neon lights cast ghostly shadows on the walls, adding to the haunted house atmosphere. The steps leading up to the entrance were old and crumbling, barely recognisable under the thick layer of overgrown leaves and weeds.

Kuina pushed open the ajar metal door, which opened with a deafening screech - a sound that went straight to the core. Shortly afterwards, I heard the soft ringing of the laser barrier.

It was impossible to turn back.

The reception hall was spacious and sterile, but just as run-down as the outside façade. A large, old-fashioned reception desk formed the centrepiece. A clunky computer monitor sat enthroned on it, looking as if it had been stolen from a historical museum of computer technology.

Even under the dim light of the loudly buzzing neon tubes, you could see the thick layer of dust that had settled on every piece of furniture like a grey veil over the decades.

All around were several overturned shelves, scattered folders and loose documents, probably files of former patients. On some of them, you could still recognise names or words like "electroshock therapy" or "paranoid schizophrenia" in faded ink.

Electric shocks?

A lump formed in my throat.

Had these people ever made it out of here? Or were their souls now trapped in the abandoned walls forever?

My gaze slid uneasily through the hall, over the places where the wallpaper was peeling off the wall in strips like old, dead skin.

And then I realised that we were not alone.

Four players had already gathered around the round table, which looked strangely out of place with its shiny white surface. Those present raised their heads briefly and eyed us sceptically. They all had a mobile phone in their hands and seemed to be waiting for other participants. Nobody said anything. A few at least gave us a brief nod.

The atmosphere in the hall was strangely tense, as if everyone sensed that this game would test our limits.

We approached the table hesitantly.

Four highly polished smartphones lay ready on it.

But that wasn't all.

There was also a delicate etageré made of white porcelain in the centre of the table. On it were eight pretty cupcakes with a pink cream topping and colourful sprinkles - a strange contrast to the drab surroundings. Inside were small skewers with little flags with "Eat Me" written on them in squiggly lettering.

Strangely, the cupcakes at the ball looked almost exactly the same.

Just 24 hours had passed between this moment and last night, but it felt like a different life. The world of the Beach - Chishiya, the infirmary, Makoto - it was all so far away right now, and yet I could feel the light scratching of the paper on my skin, still stuck in my cleavage.

Try not to die until then.

Chishiya's voice echoed in my head as if he were standing next to me.

I could give it a try.

"Oh, how thoughtful, a welcome snack," Whitmore remarked in amazement, approaching the table to take a cupcake. "Finally some decent service in this dump. But surely a welcome drink would have been in order?"

I forced myself to smile, but the unease remained.

"Why are they just standing there like that?" I hissed at Kuina.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know, but I don't trust anything that comes from people who want to kill us."

She was right. Cupcakes in a madhouse. Something about that screamed ambush.

The others hadn't touched the sweet either - a silent warning signal that also made me hesitate. Only Whitmore bit into it with relish. He of all people. As an ex-cop, shouldn't he have been more suspicious?

Everyone involuntarily held their breath as he bit into the cupcake - as if everyone in the room expected him to go down foaming at the mouth. But nothing of the sort happened. On the contrary: he smacked his lips with relish and licked his fingers demonstratively.

"Really good. You should try it too," he munched with his mouth full.

Kuina's eyes met mine. She shook her head almost imperceptibly - whether as a warning or out of sheer bewilderment, I couldn't tell. Instead of reaching for a cupcake, she picked up one of the smartphones from the table. I hesitated for a moment, but then followed her example.

The screens lit up so brightly that I had to blink at first.

A loading screen appeared.

Then a static crackle interrupted the silence, followed by a shrill, piercing beep - the sound reminded me involuntarily of the loudspeaker announcements at my old school. Reflexively, we covered our ears.

Then it fell silent - and was replaced by a voice that sent a chill down the back of my neck.

The registration is complete. The number of participants is 8. The game will now commence.

I stared at my screen, on which my name now popped up. The tension inside me reached its peak. Then the image of the playing card finally appeared on the display.

White area. Red hearts. Seven of them.

My own heart contracted painfully.

Difficulty level: 7 of Hearts

Game: Alice Dee

Hint:
Before the game will start, you must take the biscuit provided. It contains a psychoactive substance that will alter your perception. One biscuit is provided per player. Refusal will result in immediate disqualification.

I stared at the display in my hand. And suddenly everything started spinning.

Not again.

I swallowed, but my throat felt like sandpaper. As the voice continued to speak, the device slowly sank into my hand.

My eyes travelled to Kuina.

She looked at me too. Her expression reflected what was raging inside me:

Disbelief. Tension. Fear.

I lowered my eyes. I wanted to say something, but my lips felt numb. Instead, my gaze swept across the table. The cupcakes stood there as if it were a child's birthday party.

"Eat me" was written on the little flags.

I almost had to laugh.

Or cry.

Maybe both.

Like I mentioned before this is the last chapter I was able to translate because I'm still working on the next one but I am not making good progress, not only because it's rather challening to write but also because my health is putting a spanner in the works at the moment. But I'll try of course.