The doorbell in the studio apartment chirps like a bird.
Chirp, chirp.
“I didn’t order any delivery…”
The walls in this place are thin enough that you can clearly hear sounds in the hallway—like when someone’s food is delivered or when their bell rings.
But this time, it was clearly my door. Unit 203.
I don’t really have anyone who would come visit me.
Another chirp.
“I didn’t order anything. This is 203.”
I called out when I heard the fake bird sound again.
Sometimes, people from those strange little churches tail a resident inside after they enter their door code.
Could it be those missionary ajummas?
I’ve never lost a religious argument, so part of me wanted to open the door and counter-preach.
“Um, excuse me. It’s 202.”
“Huh? Oh, yes.”
Oh, 202… The one who cried in fear when her mom was yelling and fighting during move-in day?
I opened the door.
I feel a bit indebted to both the landlord and to 202.
Even if my Gate is like a honey jar, I still want to be able to accept things like pest control, gas inspections, or delivery food.
Luckily, I had just woken up, and Ricecooker Man was plugged in and warming.
So whatever popped out of the Gate, it had to withstand the “keep warm” setting of my rice-dungeon.
If I hear the thoughts of an otherworldly being, I can always pretend I’m having a mental breakdown.
And if those thoughts reached someone else? Like 204, the guy with all the Japanese girlfriends who spends every other day in bed with one of them? He would’ve already done something about it.
“…Yes.”
“Oh.”
I opened the door.
It was my neighbor from 202—a young woman, hiding part of her face by pressing her hand to her forehead.
With neat bangs covering her brow and no makeup but a dab of BB cream, she was plain yet cute.
But why did she always walk around with her face lowered?
“What is it? I’ve never accidentally taken your package before.”
I asked because, back when I lived alone in a similar hallway-style studio, I’d once had that happen to me.
“Oh, n-no. I’m sorry, but… did you hear anything strange?”
“Strange sounds?”
I had heard a woman crying for her mom. It sounded like 202, but I didn’t mention it.
“Yes. Like someone screaming ‘Save me’ or something. Maybe you were watching a disaster movie last night?”
“Ah, well… I did stay up late, but I don’t know about that.”
I had stayed up most of the night, not because of strange noises, but researching youth start-up support programs.
Turns out, if you register your address here, the city has grants for young entrepreneurs.
I was thinking: maybe I could lease one of those empty shop spaces behind the studio complex, start a little restaurant, or maybe a health food center.
One has to make a living, right?
“You really didn’t hear anything?”
I’d have to ask RiceCooker Man.
But asking him in front of her would just out me as the local lunatic.
Still, when she had spoken in a trembling voice, it did send a chill down my spine.
“C-can I take a quick look?”
Since my bulk was blocking the doorway, she leaned a little, scanning around my entryway.
“Sure, go ahead.”
I stepped aside.
She wasn’t wearing shoes inside. Her feet were pale and neat. Maybe she forgot socks since she only came next door.
The room was unexpectedly tidy.
After all, I couldn’t risk letting bug-ridden monster remains fester and turn into respawning mosquitoes.
“Oh, you keep your rice cooker here?”
“I like rice.”
“…I see.”
She glanced further in. Because of the bathroom partition, she had to step a bit inside to see the mattress that came with the studio.
Then her eyes caught something immediately: the boy band idol posters I’d slapped on the wall to cover up the holes I’d punched through the wallpaper.
Better to look at their plump lips than at my face, right?
“You’re… a fan of male idols?”
“I just like the color purple.”
“…Hm.”
Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t want to put them up either.
She squinted as though the posters were dazzling, though the sun wasn’t even streaming in. She lowered the hand that had been covering her face.
What, did her guard drop just because of some idols?
Not that strange. Most students had grown up idol-obsessed. And she looked like a college student herself.
“That’s unusual.”
“They’re popular enough.”
Good thing I hadn’t put up a schoolgirl anime pin-up instead.
“…By the way, you really didn’t hear those noises?”
“Noises?”
“Like… you know this room is usually empty during the semester, right? No one moved in during spring.”
“That’s true.”
“Some say a girl committed suicide here. Or that she was killed by a stalker.”
I hadn’t heard those rumors. But even if it were true, rent still got collected, right?
Still, I thought quickly.
If 202 moved out, it wouldn’t hurt me.
That crying at night—calling out for “Mom”—had creeped me out too.
And yeah, the walls weren’t exactly soundproof.
“Well… I’m not sure, but it looked like they did an extra round of wallpapering. And maybe cleaners came in.”
“What, really?”
Me? Yeah, I did it myself. But isn’t that normal? If a new tenant moves in, the landlord should take care of that.
But if I pointed that out, I’d basically be ratting on myself.
“…I thought I heard a woman crying last night too.”
“And you didn’t think anything of it?”
Could it have been you, 202?
“Well, it woke me up.”
“So you did hear a woman crying?!”
“…Sounded like a calf calling for its mom. Didn’t feel scary.”
“Not that! You didn’t hear anything else? You did, right?”
So she really had been calling for her mom.
“Yes.”
“Wait—you’re not the one making the voice, are you?”
“Why would I?”
“A horror movie?”
“I didn’t watch one.”
“Then… a Japanese girl’s scream? No?”
Ah, so she heard that too.
Figures—the walls here were so weak I could punch right through them.
“…Anyway, if you hear anything else, please tell me.”
“Instead of dropping by, why not exchange contact info?”
“Huh? Oh, uh…”
Wouldn’t it be easier by phone? Why knock in person?
Sure, it’s just a few steps in slippers, but still.
For a woman, entering a man’s room is bound to feel more uncomfortable.
She hesitated, stepped back—then her eyes lingered on the idol posters again.
She gave a little nod.
“…You’re not going to contact me first, right?”
“I’ll call if I hear anything.”
“Okay, fine. Um… You don’t think it’s weird to ask a woman for her number?”
“Why would it be weird? Could be for interest, could be for practical reasons.”
“…I see. You’re very casual about it. Well, thank you. Sorry for bothering you.”
She left.
***
“…Why do I keep getting dragged into this?”
I considered filling the whole room with fumigation smoke.
I was already conducting my own pest control.
Priority target: those drain flies that kept showing up in the bathroom.
I poured hot bleach water into the drain.
Their combat ability was weak—too weak to ever mutate into giant monsters like mosquitoes.
Probably.
Still, their breeding rate was high. What if one did evolve?
Summer was already bad enough with pests.
While I was spraying in the bathroom, I heard a voice.
“…Yeah, mom. No, nothing serious, just some noises.”
“No, you don’t need to come. Ugh, that damned rosary, I said I’d go. What, I’ll die if I don’t go out for a day?”
“The neighbor guy? I don’t know. But, mom…”
“Ugh, just shut up already. Why don’t you go have another kid if you want one? Why are you nagging me? God, you’re crazy.”
It was 202’s voice on the phone.
I even heard her toilet seat drop.
People always raise their volume when talking to parents.
I couldn’t hear her mom’s side, but the tone was obvious—nagging and harsh.
They sounded close, but the words were rough.
“…That neighbor guy. Honestly, he looks normal enough, but he’s… I swear, he’s gay.”
……
Wait. That’s me she’s talking about, isn’t it?
Why??
“I can hear some of it, you know. The walls are crap. I’ve heard him saying ‘I love you’ over and over in there. So I thought maybe he had a girlfriend. But no…”
She heard that?
I was just… expressing affection for my potted plants!
…Or, well, I had been.
“But it sounds like he’s saying it to those male idol posters. Why would a man like male idols? It’s weird.”
…Even I admit those posters make me uncomfortable.
But seriously? If a guy has male idol posters, he’s automatically gay?
By that logic, girls who like girl idols must all be gay too.
Absurd. But whatever—it was just her private opinion.
Getting upset over eavesdropping on her call would only make me lose.
School kids had gossiped about me plenty before. No need to let it bother me now.
After finishing pest control in the bathroom, I moved to the balcony wall.
On top of the spare fridge, a spider was crawling along.
Technically not in thin air, but on a nearly invisible strand of web.
“Kill it, or let it live?”
Whether at home, in the dorms, or now, I’ve never killed spiders. They eat mosquitoes. Why kill a useful creature?
Of course, they don’t eat for my sake—they eat because they’re hungry.
But what if, while I was sleeping, one got hungry enough to eat an otherworld being?
How many levels would a spider like that gain? What if it grew huge and cocooned me in webs?
“…Release.”
Still, since the balcony is separated by sliding glass doors, I could let it be. Or just toss it outside. It’d survive.
But then I noticed—its belly had faint yellow stripes. Didn’t look like an ordinary spider.
Since I’d been recording other otherworldly beings anyway, I snapped a photo.
<Wraith LV 44>
“…..”
Something hovered near the spider’s web.