Ruka Minazuki stands at the ferry dock, clutching a worn, empty notebook. Beside her, her friend Madoka Tsukimori shivers despite the summer humidity. Neither speaks about the other two: Misaki Asou, who refused to come, and Soya Yomotsuki, who vanished during their original escape ten years ago.

The gate creaks open. Behind them, the ferry’s horn wails once, then cuts dead. Inside Rogetsu Hall, time is a wound. Corridors loop. Grandfather clocks tick backward. Ghosts flicker like faulty film reels—nurses in bloodstained aprons, orderlies with their faces replaced by Hannya masks, children playing janken (rock-paper-scissors) in the dark.

Every forgotten sorrow. Every suppressed scream. Every childhood terror buried in the dark soil of Rogetsu Hall. All of it bloomed at once—and the dead rose to reclaim their stories.