Arms. Hands. Cold fingers clutching my neck, my chest, my legs. Every part of me was being pulled by those empty bodies, as if I were a prize in some sick game.

They didn't just want to kill.

They wanted to take me. To make me part of it — part of that twisted mind, that thing that erased who you were on the inside.

And there, there was no logic. Only instinct. Only fear.

The world spun, and the smell of something ancient and rotten filled my lungs. I thrashed like a cornered animal, but my body was already starting to give in.

Then, a sharp sound. A gunshot.

One of the attackers crumpled backward, as if the strings holding him up had been cut. The others froze for a second. Just one second — but it was enough.

Yuki was there. Gun in hand. Face set hard. The same strength as always.

I ran to her.

We raced up the stairs, as if something worse than death was chasing us.

The footsteps behind us didn't sound like footsteps — they were like a living, hungry mass moving. A noise echoed behind, reverberating through the walls, vibrating in our chests as if we were inside a scream.

— It hurts! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!!! — they screamed. Many voices. All together. All in panic. A chorus choked by desperation.

We didn't look back. Neither of us had the courage.

But I... looked. For a moment.

And I regretted it.

It wasn't dozens anymore. Not hundreds. It was as if the entire building had awakened, overtaken by bodies. The hive had stirred — and we were at its center.

The exit was close. But every corner seemed infested. Bodies came from everywhere.

We started shooting. Not to win. Just to clear space. To breathe. And for a moment, I thought we had a chance.

Until I heard the sound.

A thud.

And another.

And another.

I turned my head again — and my blood ran cold. They were throwing themselves. From above. From the windows. From the upper corridors. Falling as if they could fly. As if they no longer feared anything.

— Yuki, the car! NOW! — I shouted.

We got in. She turned the key with trembling hands. Reverse was brutal. One of them hit the windshield — the glass cracked, but held.

And we escaped.

We sped through the gates of that cursed place. Left the orphanage behind. For now.

The silence inside the car was an echo of the panic that still gripped us. Just the engine noise and the weight of adrenaline trapped in our chests.

My voice came out before I could stop it:

— What the hell was that?

— You're asking me, old man? I thought we were going to die back there. I thought... — her voice broke. — I've never seen anything like it.

My hands were still shaking. My heart felt like it was chasing a train that had already left.

— We need to rest. And think. You got the photos?

— Yeah. They're saved here. — she said, showing her phone, still trying to keep her hand steady.

— Let's go to my apartment.

She nodded. No one argued. No one wanted to stay any closer to that place.

The car was going way too fast, as if we were still fleeing, the engine sound filling the uncomfortable silence. Part of me never wanted to arrive.

But we did.

We climbed the stairs like two ghosts: exhausted, empty.

Yuki collapsed onto the sofa. Her eyes were red. Her mouth slightly open. She looked like she wanted to cry... but no longer had the strength for it.

I sat in the armchair.

And stayed there, feeling a strange weight in my chest.

Yuki looked at me. Her expression was the usual one: teasing. But there was tenderness there. A silent concern.

— Old man, are you okay?

The question hit me full force.

— I want to know everything about the orphanage. And about the list of children. I think we've found the source of the disappearances... — my voice cracked. — Maybe Emi was there. Maybe she suffered...

I felt my body weaken.

And I cried.

I was confused, thinking about everything that had happened. And on top of that, I was scared. Scared of what I might find next. Just imagining the possibilities haunted me, my hands trembling slightly. And Yuki noticed — and hugged me. Hard. Silently. Her fingers ran through my hair, as if trying to stitch together the pieces of me that still remained.

And in that embrace...

Came the question I never wanted to ask:

After everything I saw today... do I even want to find out what they did to my daughter?