Morning came slowly, as if the house itself was unsure whether it should allow the light in.

The storm had passed sometime before dawn, leaving behind a heavy stillness that pressed against the windows and settled into the corners of every room. The air felt different now—cooler, quieter—but not safer.

Nothing felt safe anymore.

Rika stood near the window where the knocking had come from the night before. The glass was streaked with dried condensation, faint outlines still visible where something—someone—had pressed against it.

She hadn’t slept.

None of them had.

Rei sat on the edge of a low chair, her tennis racket resting across her knees, her grip loose but ready. Her eyes drifted toward the window again and again, as if expecting it to happen a second time.

Shizu moved quietly near the kitchen entrance, wiping the same spot on the counter for longer than necessary. Her motions were steady, controlled—something to focus on.

Something normal.

But nothing about this was normal.

“Do we open it?” Rei asked finally, her voice low.

No one answered right away.

Rika didn’t turn from the window.

“He knocked,” Rei added. “That means he’s… not like them.”

Rika exhaled slowly.

“Or he’s pretending.”

That hung in the air.

The idea wasn’t unreasonable anymore. Nothing was.

Shizu set the cloth down.

“If he wanted to break in,” she said softly, “he would have tried.”

Rei glanced at her. “You don’t know that.”

“No,” Shizu replied. “But he waited.”

That mattered.

In a world that had suddenly lost all rules, waiting—asking—felt like something worth noticing.

Rika finally turned.

“We don’t open the window,” she said. “Too exposed.”

Rei nodded. “Back door?”

“Too far from here,” Rika replied. “If something goes wrong, we can’t see it.”

Shizu looked toward the side hallway.

“There’s the service entrance,” she said. “Near the kitchen. It’s smaller. Easier to control.”

Rika considered it.

“Okay,” she said. “We check first.”

They moved together, slow and deliberate.

Every step felt louder than it should have.

The house, once expansive and elegant, now felt like a maze of blind corners and long sightlines. Every doorway carried the possibility of something waiting just beyond it.

Rei led slightly, her grip tightening on the racket.

Rika followed close behind, scanning ahead, then behind.

Shizu stayed just a half step back, eyes alert, posture calm but ready.

They reached the service entrance.

The door stood closed.

Silent.

Rika raised a hand.

Wait.

They listened.

Nothing.

Then—

A soft sound.

Not knocking this time.

More like… shifting.

Someone on the other side.

Alive.

Rika stepped forward.

“Who’s there?” she called.

There was a pause.

Then a voice.

“…Tanaka,” the man said. “Hiroshi Tanaka.”

His voice was rough, unused. Careful.

Not desperate.

“I work the grounds,” he added. “The greenhouse.”

The three girls exchanged a quick glance.

Shizu’s expression shifted—just slightly.

Recognition.

Rika noticed.

“You know him?” she asked quietly.

Shizu nodded once.

“I’ve seen him,” she said. “He doesn’t come to the main house often.”

That matched.

Rika turned back to the door.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

Another pause.

“I saw movement,” Hiroshi said. “In the house.”

He hesitated.

“I thought… maybe someone was still alive.”

The way he said it—not hopeful. Not relieved. Just stating a possibility—sent a quiet weight through the hallway.

Rika placed her hand on the handle.

“Stand back,” she said.

There was a brief shuffle on the other side.

Rei shifted her stance.

Shizu straightened.

Rika opened the door.

Hiroshi Tanaka stood just beyond the threshold.

He looked older than she expected.

Not elderly—but worn.

His clothes were stained with dirt and streaked with dried mud, the kind that didn’t come from walking paths but from kneeling, working, staying low. His sleeves were rolled, revealing forearms marked with scratches and small cuts.

In his hand, he held a short-handled pruning saw.

Not raised.

Not threatening.

Just… held.

His posture was rigid.

But not in defense.

In restraint.

As soon as the door opened fully, he stepped inside—

Then immediately stopped.

He lowered his gaze.

Not cautious.

Not fearful.

Respectful.

His eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

“I apologize,” he said quietly. “For coming unannounced.”

The tone was formal.

Measured.

Rei blinked.

Rika didn’t respond right away.

Shizu stepped forward slightly.

“I am Shizu Sakamoto,” she said.

Hiroshi’s posture shifted—subtle, but immediate.

He straightened just a fraction more, but his gaze remained lowered.

“Sakamoto-san,” he said.

The honorific came naturally.

Automatic.

The hierarchy was already in place.

Even now.

“I didn’t expect—” he began, then stopped himself. “I didn’t know anyone from the house had survived.”

Shizu hesitated.

There was a brief moment—barely visible—where she almost accepted it.

The role.

The distance.

Then she shook her head.

“I’m also just a worker,” she said.

The words were simple.

But they changed everything.

Hiroshi paused.

Not confused.

Processing.

Slowly—carefully—he lifted his head.

Not all the way at first.

Just enough to look at her.

Then fully.

His eyes met hers.

The tension in his shoulders eased—just slightly.

“Then…” he said quietly, “…we are the same.”

Shizu gave a small nod.

“Yes.”

That was enough.

The air shifted.

Not safe.

But human.

Rika stepped forward.

“I’m Rika,” she said. “And that’s Rei.”

Rei gave a small, quick nod.

Hiroshi inclined his head to both of them—no longer looking at the floor, but still careful, still measured.

“You came from the greenhouse?” Rika asked.

“Yes.”

“How did you survive?”

Hiroshi glanced toward the window at the end of the hall.

“The glass structure,” he said. “Strong. Reinforced.”

He shifted his grip on the pruning saw slightly.

“I stayed inside,” he continued. “Closed everything. Watched.”

“Watched what?” Rei asked.

Hiroshi didn’t answer immediately.

His expression tightened.

“Them,” he said finally.

No one needed clarification.

“They move differently,” he continued. “Not like people.”

“They’re not,” Rei muttered.

Hiroshi gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“I saw some of the staff,” he said. “At first.”

He swallowed.

“They didn’t recognize me.”

Silence.

Shizu lowered her gaze slightly.

Rika’s jaw tightened.

Rei’s grip on the racket hardened.

“They came to the greenhouse,” Hiroshi said. “Not many. I locked the doors.”

He glanced at his hands.

“I had tools.”

That said enough.

Rika studied him.

“You waited until now to come here?”

Hiroshi nodded.

“I don’t come to the main house,” he said. “It is… not my place.”

Even now.

Even after everything.

That line still existed for him.

Shizu looked at him carefully.

“You came anyway,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Hiroshi met her eyes again.

“Because I saw movement,” he said. “And because…”

He hesitated.

“…being alone is worse.”

That landed harder than anything else he’d said.

Rei shifted.

“So what now?” she asked. “We just… add another person?”

Rika didn’t answer right away.

She looked at Hiroshi.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t push.

He just stood there, waiting.

Again.

Waiting mattered.

Rika exhaled.

“You can stay,” she said.

Rei looked at her.

“Just like that?”

Rika didn’t look away from Hiroshi.

“He knocked,” she said.

That was enough explanation.

Hiroshi bowed his head slightly.

“Thank you.”

Simple.

Direct.

No excess.

Shizu moved toward the kitchen.

“We have water,” she said. “And some food left.”

Hiroshi followed—but slower, as if unsure how close he was allowed to be.

Rei watched him the entire time.

Still not convinced.

Still not relaxed.

Rika lingered near the doorway.

She glanced outside.

The morning light stretched across the grounds, pale and quiet.

Too quiet.

Nothing moved.

No wind.

No birds.

Nothing.

She stepped back inside and closed the door.

Locked it.

Inside, the house felt different.

Not safer.

But… steadier.

Four instead of three.

A small change.

But not a meaningless one.

At the kitchen table, Hiroshi sat at the edge of the chair, posture straight, hands resting carefully on his knees.

He hadn’t touched the water yet.

Hadn’t reached for the food.

He was waiting.

Still.

Shizu noticed.

“You can eat,” she said gently.

He nodded.

Then, finally, he reached forward.

Rei leaned closer to Rika.

“You trust him?” she whispered.

Rika watched Hiroshi for a moment.

“No,” she said quietly.

Rei blinked.

“Then why—”

“But I trust what he did,” Rika interrupted.

Rei frowned.

Rika nodded toward him.

“He waited,” she said.

Rei followed her gaze.

Hiroshi sat quietly, eating in small, measured motions.

Not rushing.

Not taking more than he needed.

Not looking at anything but what was in front of him.

Rei exhaled.

“…yeah,” she said.

Outside, the estate remained silent.

No voices.

No movement along the paths.

The hedges stood still. The gravel drive untouched.

But the quiet didn’t feel like safety.

It felt like something that could break at any moment.

A figure moved far off near the edge of the grounds—slow, uneven, drifting without direction.

Then another.

Not gathering.

Not watching.

Just… wandering.

Inside, the house held together for now.

Four people.

Doors closed.

Windows locked.

For the first time since it began, they weren’t alone.

And for now—

That was enough.

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