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🕑 Added 2025-04-29 02:14:15 +0000 UTCChapter 291: Speculation
"This case has no connection to the previous ones."
Faced with relentless questioning from reporters, Yamamoto instinctively offered an explanation.
However, his response immediately gave journalist Takayama an opening.
"In other words, the previous student deaths were connected to each other?"
As soon as he heard Takayama’s words, Yamamoto realized he had misspoken. Looking at the aggressive journalist before him, his expression turned cold.
"That’s just your speculation. Besides, I never agreed to this interview. Takayama, if you continue, I will arrest you for obstructing a police investigation—"
"That would be an abuse of power!"
Takayama’s expression shifted slightly at the warning, but he remained firm.
He had worked hard to get this opportunity, to find a breakthrough. He wasn’t about to let it slip away so easily.
"No, I believe this is entirely justified."
"The public has the right to know, and as journalists, it is our duty to reveal the truth."
"The truth will also be disclosed to the public once the investigation is complete."
"No, you’re going to cover it up…"
"That’s your bias, Takayama."
Staring at the emotional journalist before him, Yamamoto replied in a cold voice. Without waiting for Takayama’s response, he turned and got into the police car.
"……"
Watching the police car drive away, Takayama clenched his fists in frustration.
"I will uncover the truth and expose you all!"
He wasn’t doing this just for the public—he was doing it for himself as well.
---
## "What Exactly Is This, Yoshikuma?"
At the Kojima household.
Looking at the red stitching that had appeared on his body, Yoshikuma’s mother wore a worried expression.
"What did the doctor say?"
"The doctor just told me to apply some ointment. He said he still needs to investigate what’s causing this, to see if it’s some kind of rare skin disease."
In response to his family's concern, Yoshikuma could only repeat what the dermatologist had told him.
"A skin disease?"
Yoshikuma’s father furrowed his brow as he examined the stitching on his son's body. "This doesn’t look like any skin disease I’ve ever seen… Did you stitch this, dear?"
"What nonsense are you talking about?!"
His mother immediately looked offended at the accusation. "Why on earth would I sew something onto Yoshikuma’s body? Besides, I’m busy running the household every day—I don’t even have time for something like this!"
"I know, I was just thinking out loud."
Seeing his wife’s strong reaction, Yoshikuma’s father shook his head, realizing it was unlikely.
"I know what this is!"
While the couple was arguing, the grandfather, who had been silent up until now, suddenly spoke up.
"?!?"
Hearing his grandfather’s words, Yoshikuma instinctively turned toward him. The old man’s deeply wrinkled face was serious as he said, "This is a sen-nin-bari!"
"Sen-nin-bari?"
Both Yoshikuma and his parents looked at him in confusion.
"That’s right, a sen-nin-bari. During wartime, mothers or wives would take a piece of cloth to the train station and ask a thousand different women to sew one stitch each into it. The purpose was to pray for protection. Everyone carried a piece of cloth embroidered with stitches from a thousand women."
"A sen-nin-bari? That’s ridiculous…"
Yoshikuma’s father couldn’t help but speak up.
"The war ended a long time ago. Japan surrendered ages ago. And besides, Yoshikuma’s stomach isn’t a piece of cloth!"
"Sen-nin-bari were usually wrapped around the stomach, so it’s not surprising for it to appear on his body."
"So… this really is a sen-nin-bari?"
After hearing his grandfather’s explanation, Yoshikuma lowered his gaze to the red stitches on his body.
Compared to the idea of a rare skin disease, he found his grandfather’s theory much more believable.
"But why would a sen-nin-bari appear on my body?"
"In fact, your late grandmother was skilled at sewing sen-nin-bari."
As Yoshikuma stared at him in confusion, his grandfather continued, speaking with absolute certainty:
"It’s possible that this sen-nin-bari was made by your grandmother."
"That’s impossible!"
His parents immediately dismissed the idea.
"Yeah, Dad, why would Mom do something so cruel to her own grandson?"
"No, it’s precisely because he’s her grandson that she did this. This isn’t meant to hurt Yoshikuma—it’s meant to protect him. It means that in the near future, Yoshikuma will face a great disaster. Your grandmother must have stitched this from the afterlife to shield him… It’s a protective charm!"
"A great disaster?"
Hearing his grandfather’s solemn warning, Yoshikuma’s expression grew tense.
He looked down at the crooked red stitches on his skin, then back up at his grandfather’s serious face. Instinctively, he asked,
"Grandpa, what kind of disaster is coming?"
"How should I know? Go ask your grandmother!"
Yoshikuma: "……"
---
## Horikawa High School
After the police left, the entire school fell into silence.
Hiding around the corner of the hallway, Endo watched as the dim light outside the school building gradually faded. The confidence he had earlier began to waver.
"Maybe… after seeing me yesterday, that guy got scared and won’t show up again?"
Thinking about what he had done the night before, Endo couldn’t help but consider the possibility.
But deep inside, a voice kept telling him: He will come. Just wait a little longer. Just a little longer…
He hesitated, glancing toward the empty shoe lockers not far away.
His expression slowly shifted to one of determination. He had already waited this long—turning back now would be pointless. If he went home, he’d just get scolded anyway, so he might as well stay a bit longer.
And so, he continued to wait.
Another ten minutes passed.
Just when Endo was about to think all his efforts had been for nothing, a long shadow stretched across the dimly lit school entrance, stopping in front of the shoe lockers.
Hidden in the shadows, the figure cautiously stepped into the school building. After glancing left and right, they looked up toward the spot where Endo had hidden the night before.
"He really came!"
Noticing the figure’s movement, Endo quickly shrank back into the corner.
He gripped the strap of his bag tightly and took a deep breath.
This time, no matter what, he wasn’t going to let that guy escape.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 292: The Rooftop
Dusk fell in front of the main school building of Horikawa High School.
The last rays of the setting sun stretched every shadow long and thin.
In the crisscrossing darkness, a figure stepped forward to the shoe lockers.
From their pocket, they pulled out a prepared "farewell letter." The obscured face, hidden by the shadows, revealed a hint of anticipation as they reached out to place the letter into Endo's shoe locker.
*Thud, thud, thud—*
Just as the figure extended their hand—
The rapid sound of footsteps suddenly echoed from around the corner of the school building.
The next moment, Endo appeared, gritting his teeth, his face filled with fury as he charged forward.
"This time, you won’t escape!"
With a determined shout, Endo sprinted toward the shoe lockers where the figure stood.
Seeing Endo’s aggressive approach, the figure hesitated for only a moment before swiftly tossing the farewell letter aside. Under Endo’s astonished gaze, they spun around and bolted toward the school stairwell.
*"What?!"*
Caught off guard, Endo was unable to stop them from slipping past his reach.
He watched as the figure darted up the stairs, their footsteps echoing loudly through the stairwell.
Without hesitation, Endo halted his forward charge, quickly turning to pursue them up the building.
"Stop running, you bastard!"
*Huff, huff—*
They raced up the stairwell, neither closing nor widening the gap between them.
Endo refused to give up, and though he couldn’t catch up, the figure also couldn’t shake him off.
Then, right before Endo’s eyes, he saw them run straight onto the rooftop.
*"Now you’ve got nowhere left to run."*
Seeing this, a surge of excitement flashed across Endo’s face.
Stopping at the rooftop entrance, he braced his hands against his knees, catching his breath and steadying his racing heartbeat. Only then did he step onto the rooftop.
*"Huh? What the—?!"*
The moment he entered, Endo was met with an empty rooftop.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
Just seconds ago, he had seen them run onto the rooftop with his own eyes.
Yet now, they had vanished without a trace.
*"No way…"*
But in the very next second—
Endo realized something.
No one could simply disappear into thin air.
That meant they had to be hiding somewhere.
The rooftop was wide and open, offering almost no places to hide.
Except…
A single spot.
Endo instinctively turned toward the iron door at the rooftop entrance.
And in that instant, a figure lunged at him from the doorway.
*"What?!"*
Endo instinctively tried to dodge.
But as he turned, his face twisted in shock and disbelief.
Bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, he finally saw the figure clearly—the one who had been placing farewell letters in his shoe locker all this time.
It was himself.
---
### Late Night – The Kojima Household
“Don’t worry about what your grandfather said, Itsukuma.”
That night, at the Kojima residence.
After listening to his grandfather’s explanation about the Thousand-Person Stitch, Itsukuma Kojima couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling from his mind.
Standing before the family shrine, he gazed at his grandmother’s gentle face in the framed photograph.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't connect the loving woman in the picture to the mysterious red stitches now appearing on his body.
After some comforting words from his mother, Itsukuma returned to his room.
Lying on his bed, he felt no drowsiness whatsoever.
Yesterday, he had fallen asleep… and by the time he woke up, those red stitches had mysteriously appeared on his body.
If what his grandfather said was true—if these were indeed stitches from the Thousand-Person Stitch—
Then his grandmother would surely return tonight to continue the process.
After all, there weren’t yet a thousand stitches. And without reaching that number, the Thousand-Person Stitch would be meaningless.
His grandfather had spoken of a great disaster looming in the future.
Gazing down at the red stitches on his wrists and arms, Itsukuma pondered.
He had no idea what sort of catastrophe awaited him, but wasn’t the existence of these stitches already a disaster in itself?
Because of them, his classmates cast strange and fearful looks at him at school.
He was isolated.
*"Maybe I should tell Grandma to stop. If she truly wants to protect me, there must be another way."*
Making up his mind, Itsukuma glanced at the clock on the wall.
As he waited, time seemed to crawl unbearably slow.
Lying there, he wasn’t sure how long had passed.
Half-dreaming, half-awake, he suddenly heard a faint rustling sound in his room.
*"Such a poor child… after everything we’ve done, he still hasn’t changed."*
*"Maybe it’s because there aren’t enough yet. He needs more… many more…"*
The whispers sent a chill down Itsukuma’s spine.
His eyes snapped open.
The room was filled with figures standing around his bed.
And in the very front—was his grandmother.
She looked exactly as she did in the framed photograph.
Smiling warmly, her face full of kindness.
In her hands, she held a needle and thread.
She sighed.
*"…My dear Itsukuma."*
His breath caught in his throat.
*"Grandma…?!"*
Seeing his startled expression, his grandmother’s smile deepened.
*"Ah, Itsukuma, you’re awake."*
Behind her, the other figures murmured in eerie unison.
His grandmother gently lifted the needle and thread in her hands.
*"I brought many helpers tonight. Come now, be good and take off your clothes so they can stitch you up properly. The more stitches, the more others will change their perception of you. Then, that child will come back to you."*
His grandmother’s helpers—every single one of them—held their own needles and threads.
They stepped closer.
And as they did, Itsukuma finally saw them clearly.
Their rotting flesh.
The eyeballs dangling from their sockets.
These were not living people.
They were spirits.
Just like his grandmother.
Itsukuma’s eyes darted around the room, his body frozen in terror.
Seeing their needles glint in the dim light, he finally found his voice.
*"Grandma, please! I don’t want these stitches anymore!"*
*"Don’t be afraid, Itsukuma."*
His grandmother’s voice remained warm, reassuring.
The others echoed her words, their tone eerily gentle.
They continued reaching for him.
They pulled off his shirt.
They raised their needles.
And, smiling, they began to sew.
*"Don’t be afraid, child. This is all for your own good."*
*"Yes… with enough stitches, you’ll be able to reconnect with that child. Then you won’t be sad anymore…"*
*"It won’t hurt… just endure it a little longer. Soon, it will all be over…"*
---
(End of Chapter)
*Chapter 293: A New Will*
"Endo, where did you run off to again yesterday?"
The next day, at Horikawa High School.
Shimada looked at Endo as he arrived at school, furrowing his brows and scrutinizing his friend.
"If you had something going on, you should have told me earlier."
"Your family called again. I wanted to cover for you, but I didn't get to the phone in time. My dad picked up instead, so…"
"It's fine."
Hearing Shimada's explanation, Endo shook his head.
"I've already explained everything to my family. Yesterday, on my way home, I heard that a new arcade had opened nearby. I couldn’t resist the temptation and ended up playing for so long that I lost track of time and got home late."
"A new arcade? And you didn't tell me?"
Hearing Endo mention the arcade, Shimada's attention was immediately drawn to it.
"I only found out about it yesterday too."
Shrugging, Endo put on an innocent expression.
"Then let's set a time to go check it out together."
"Sounds good."
Having made plans to visit the new arcade, the two walked into the school building, one behind the other.
When they reached the shoe lockers, Endo swapped out his shoes and placed them in the empty locker. Just as he turned around, he noticed a strange expression on Shimada’s face.
"What’s wrong, Shimada?"
Casually asking, Endo watched as Shimada pointed toward his shoe locker.
Inside, a letter lay there, quietly resting.
"No way…"
Seeing the letter, Endo's face showed a mixture of disbelief and suspicion.
"It's highly possible."
Nodding, Shimada reached out and picked up the envelope, flipping it over.
Sure enough, on the front, the words *"Will"* were written clearly in large characters.
"I, Shimada, will die in three days!"
The same envelope. The same message.
But this time, instead of Endo being the recipient, the letter was addressed to Shimada.
As he stared at the letter, Shimada finally understood how Endo must have felt a few days ago when he received his.
"This stupid prank still isn’t over."
Though a bit irritated, Shimada didn’t take the contents of the letter too seriously.
After all, if the message were real, Endo should have already been dead—his time was supposedly up yesterday.
Crumpling the letter along with the envelope into a ball, Shimada stuffed it into his pocket with a look of indifference. He then turned to Endo and said, "Looks like whoever's behind this realized their prank didn’t work on you, so now they’re trying me instead. But they picked the wrong target—I’m not taking this seriously at all."
Endo simply nodded, saying nothing as he watched Shimada shove the "will" into his pocket.
As Shimada finished changing his shoes and slung his bag over his shoulder, he turned to leave but suddenly winced, sucking in a sharp breath.
"You okay, Endo?"
Noticing the pained expression on his friend's face, Shimada asked with concern.
"It's nothing. I just accidentally hit my shoulder the other day."
Endo reached up and rubbed his shoulder, shaking his head as he casually explained.
---
Carrying his backpack, Kojima walked toward the classroom.
Along the way, he couldn't help but notice that people were looking at him strangely.
"Is it because they think I was trying to kill myself yesterday when I used the box cutter to cut the stitches?"
The thought flashed through Kojima’s mind as he became aware of the stares.
To be honest, breaking up with Miharu had been painful, but after all the strange red stitches appearing on his body, he had barely had time to think about the breakup.
Compared to heartbreak, he was more concerned about the bizarre red stitches.
Last night, he saw his long-dead grandmother, leading a large group of people who were piercing needles into his body. He had thought he'd wake up covered in stitches, but when he got up this morning, everything seemed normal.
It was as if the whole thing had been just a bad dream.
But if his grandmother wasn’t the one responsible, then where did these red stitches on his body come from?
Pondering this, Kojima walked into the classroom.
As expected, his classmates looked at him with odd expressions.
Ignoring their stares, he went to his seat and sat down.
"Did you not look in the mirror this morning, Kojima?"
A classmate who was usually on good terms with him finally spoke up.
"Mirror?"
"What do you mean?"
Hearing this, an intense sense of unease welled up inside Kojima.
He dashed out of the classroom and ran straight to the restroom.
"What the hell is going on?!"
Looking into the mirror, Kojima was horrified to see red stitches covering his face.
It was real.
His grandmother and those people had really left *Thousand People’s Needle* marks on him.
"Kojima, you should go to the infirmary…"
"Sorry, but this isn’t something the infirmary can treat."
Because of the stitches on his face, the strange looks from his classmates only intensified.
Even the teachers sent him to the infirmary multiple times. But even real dermatologists wouldn’t be able to diagnose his condition, let alone the school nurse.
And so, he muddled through the morning classes.
With his face in this state, Kojima had no appetite.
Of course, none of his classmates wanted to eat with him either—his appearance was simply too disturbing.
Sitting alone on a stone bench in the schoolyard, Kojima was consumed with resentment.
If it weren’t for his grandmother… if she hadn’t brought those people to pierce him with their needles… he wouldn’t have ended up like this.
Nearby, several students noticed him and instinctively stepped away.
Some of the more timid girls even let out frightened gasps, clearly startled by his appearance.
And their reactions only fueled the growing hatred in Kojima's heart.
"Kojima, I knew I'd find you here!"
Just as he sat there wallowing in self-pity, a familiar voice rang out in front of him.
Looking up, he saw Miharu standing before him, staring down with an expression of disgust.
*(End of Chapter)*
*Chapter 294: The Red Thread of Fate*
"Miharu."
Seeing Miharu appear before him once again, Kojima's expression remained surprisingly calm.
His attention was entirely captivated by the red stitches now covering his body, leaving him with no room to dwell on the heartbreak of his recent breakup.
"Do you have any idea how much I've been ridiculed by our classmates because of you these past few days, Kojima?"
Miharu's gaze fell upon the red stitches on Kojima's face, her expression filled with anger as she loudly accused him.
"We’ve already broken up, yet you insist on using such childish tricks to provoke me, making me the subject of ridicule!"
"Childish tricks? What are you talking about, Miharu?"
Baffled by Miharu’s sudden outburst, Kojima looked at her in confusion.
He hadn’t done anything these past few days, not even gone to her class to see her.
"Are you seriously going to tell me that those stitches aren’t your way of getting back at me for breaking up with you?"
"You always used to say that we were bound by the red thread of fate, that we were meant to be together. But now that I’ve dumped you, you use this ridiculous method to mock me, turning yourself into this… just to tell me that these are the red threads I cut off?"
"What nonsense are you talking about, Miharu?"
Hearing her mention the so-called "red thread of fate," Kojima’s expression turned incredulous.
What had appeared on his body was clearly his grandmother’s Thousand-Person Stitches.
"In any case, stop bothering me. If you keep using these bizarre methods to mess with me, I’ll call the police."
Without waiting for Kojima’s response, Miharu turned and walked away.
Watching her leave without hesitation, Kojima opened his mouth as if to call out to her, but in the end, he didn’t chase after her to explain what had happened to him.
He could see it clearly now—Miharu only felt disgust toward him. Any past feelings she had for him were completely gone.
"But... the red thread of fate?"
Recalling Miharu’s words, Kojima lowered his gaze to the red stitches on his wrist, his expression thoughtful.
He had indeed frequently told Miharu in the past that they were connected by the red thread of fate, destined to be together. He had read about it in a book about a deity who controlled relationships. According to the book, the deity would bind two lovers together with a red thread, ensuring that no matter how far apart they were, they would always reunite.
However, the book never mentioned what would happen if the red thread was severed.
"Could it be that these stitches appeared on my body because the red thread was cut?"
As he speculated, Kojima also recalled his grandfather’s stories about the Thousand-Person Stitches and felt lost in thought.
Both explanations seemed equally plausible.
"No… No, that can’t be right. If I think about it logically, these theories don’t make any sense."
Shaking his head to rid himself of these chaotic thoughts, Kojima looked at the red stitches on his wrist and ultimately decided to believe what the doctor had told him.
Maybe this was just some rare skin condition. In time, it would heal.
---
"No… this won’t work."
Kyoto, Kyodo News Branch Office.
The editor-in-chief shook his head as he reviewed the news article written by Takayama.
"Why not, Chief?!"
Takayama’s face was filled with disbelief as he saw his meticulously researched and carefully compiled report being rejected. He couldn’t help but press for an explanation.
"I have thoroughly investigated this. Everything in my report is completely factual, with not a single false detail. There have been multiple unexplainable deaths at Horikawa High School recently, all beyond any reasonable explanation. And just recently, the corpse of a female student was unearthed from a time capsule. I even got confirmation from attendees of that reunion that the body belonged to a student from twenty years ago—Keiko Watanabe! This is a massive scoop! If we publish this, it will cause a huge sensation!"
"I know, Takayama."
Unlike Takayama’s agitated demeanor, the editor-in-chief remained completely calm.
"If we publish your article, it will indeed make waves. But have you actually read what you wrote? Kyodo News is not some tabloid. I cannot allow an article that involves supernatural elements to be published as legitimate news. If anything goes wrong, the consequences won’t just fall on me—the entire agency will be under pressure."
The chief’s words were clear. Although Takayama’s report was sensational, its content was too controversial. Especially the sections concerning the time capsule and interviews with the families of the deceased—such stories, involving mysterious deaths, could cause a significant public outcry.
"You’ve been in journalism long enough to understand the implications."
"There have been plenty of incidents at Horikawa High School. But why do you think none of the major newspapers, aside from online sources, have ever covered them seriously?"
"Chief, are you saying…?"
Takayama finally caught on to what the editor-in-chief was implying.
"The authorities have made it clear that the press should avoid reporting on Horikawa High School’s incidents as much as possible. Even if they do, the details must remain vague. So, Takayama, no matter how much effort you put into this article, the outcome will remain the same—it will never be published."
"..."
Takayama fell silent at the chief’s revelation.
He had believed he had caught a big story, dreaming of making a name for himself with an explosive exposé.
But reality had given him a harsh slap in the face.
Kyodo News would never publish his article. In fact, no newspaper in Japan would.
Which meant the public would never know the truth about Horikawa High School.
Because the Japanese government didn’t want them to.
"No… I won’t let this happen!"
As he stepped out of the editor-in-chief’s office, Takayama looked down at the report in his hands, his eyes gleaming with determination.
He had spent days collecting these interviews and painstakingly piecing together the truth from the Kyoto Police Department.
If he simply let this go, he would be throwing away the biggest opportunity of his career.
If he gave up now, there was no telling if he’d ever get this close to success again.
"This is my chance. The people have the right to know. I’m only revealing the truth… I’m just telling them what really happened at Horikawa High School…"
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 295: Stirring the Waves
"Keiko Watanabe in the Time Capsule!"
"A Female Corpse Found in the Time Capsule—A Student from Horikawa High School, Twenty Years Later…"
"Kyoto City—At the Horikawa High School class reunion for graduates of Heisei Year 2, alumni unearthed a time capsule buried twenty years ago. However, inside the capsule, they discovered a dried-up female corpse wearing a school uniform. According to attendees at the reunion, the corpse closely resembled one of their classmates from twenty years ago—Keiko Watanabe. Strangely, several attendees reported receiving mysterious phone calls from someone who sounded like Keiko Watanabe just days before the reunion…"
"The Kyoto Metropolitan Police Department has remained silent regarding the incident at Horikawa High School. However, in the days following the discovery of Keiko’s body in the time capsule, a series of mysterious deaths began occurring at the school. The deceased students all shared the same appearance—dried-up as if they had been dead for a long time. At the same time…"
Kyoto, An Apartment
Placing his freshly written news article online, journalist Takayama hesitated for a moment.
He knew that once he published this piece, there would be no turning back.
However, after considering the immense effort he had put into this report, a rush of determination overtook him. Without another thought, he uploaded the article.
As the article went live, Takayama slumped into his chair, feeling as if all his strength had been drained.
There was no going back now.
Under his watchful gaze, the article appeared online.
At first, "Keiko Watanabe in the Time Capsule!" received little attention. The response was lukewarm, and it failed to cause much of a stir.
However, for some reason, more and more people gradually took notice of the article.
Curious readers clicked on the headline, only to be greeted by a blurry photograph of Keiko Watanabe inside the time capsule—an image Takayama had painstakingly obtained from one of the reunion attendees.
It was this very photograph that had solidified his resolve to investigate the Horikawa High School case.
As the eerie image spread, discussions about the article surged across the internet.
Soon, self-proclaimed students of Horikawa High School began posting online, supporting the article’s authenticity from their own perspectives.
Under Takayama’s astonished gaze, the article's views skyrocketed. It was shared, reposted, and discussed widely.
What had initially been suppressed—the story of Horikawa High School—was now becoming a major online sensation. And before long, the online frenzy started spilling over into the real world.
People who had read the article began flocking to Horikawa High School.
Their actions, in turn, attracted even more attention, sparking a bizarre phenomenon.
Due to Japan’s unique cultural tendencies and collective mentality, trends and movements often take on a life of their own. Once something gains traction, the truth becomes secondary—people will follow blindly, trusting public sentiment over expert opinions.
Of course, the viral spread of the Horikawa High School story wasn’t solely due to Takayama’s article.
If one were to analyze the situation carefully, it would be clear that an unknown force was at play.
After all, Takayama was just an ordinary journalist with no significant following. It was highly unusual for a single article to gain such overwhelming attention so quickly.
Undoubtedly, someone was pulling the strings behind the scenes.
San Marino
Watching the live system feed displaying the growing crowd in front of Horikawa High School, Allen nodded in satisfaction.
There was no doubt—he was the one orchestrating everything.
By spending Plot Points from his system, he had influenced Takayama to upload the article. Then, using additional Plot Points, he amplified its reach, ensuring that the story about Keiko Watanabe in the time capsule spread like wildfire before the Japanese government could react.
Now, the entire country was in an uproar over the article.
Judging by the results, Allen's plan had been a massive success.
In fact, as the crowd outside Horikawa High School continued to swell, television networks also jumped on the story.
Once the situation escalated beyond what the authorities could ignore, even TV stations—unlike the government, which preferred to stay silent—began broadcasting detailed reports on the events at Horikawa High School.
Some channels, eager to boost ratings, even rushed to produce special programs overnight, featuring so-called spiritual mediums discussing the possible supernatural nature of Keiko Watanabe and the murders linked to her.
"Without a doubt, this is the work of a vengeful spirit. The reunion attendees dug up Keiko Watanabe from the time capsule, releasing an evil entity that had been sealed away. This is what triggered the series of tragic events…"
"So, Master, do you have any solutions?"
"Exorcism. The only way to restore peace to Horikawa High School is to perform a purification ritual and dispel Keiko’s lingering resentment. Otherwise, her curse will continue to haunt the school, claiming more lives."
"Really?"
"That’s terrifying…"
"Without a doubt."
Morning—The Kojima Household
As the alarm clock buzzed, Kojima groggily reached out and silenced it, slowly opening his eyes.
However, in the next instant, he froze in shock.
His entire body—from his hands to his feet—was wrapped in dense red stitching.
The red threads weren’t just on his limbs; they covered his face entirely, making his features unrecognizable.
"…"
Dazed, he climbed out of bed and headed downstairs.
"Good morning, I—"
His family members' faces twisted in horror as they took in his appearance.
"Grandpa, it looks like your 'Thousand Stitch Curse' theory was wrong. Judging by my current state, I’d say I’ve far surpassed a thousand stitches."
"Uh… Hmm… Yes, you’re absolutely right…"
His grandfather was at a complete loss for words.
"Ichikuma, let’s go to the hospital," his mother said anxiously.
"I’ll stop by after school," Kojima replied in an eerily calm voice.
In truth, he already had a suspicion about the origin of these red threads.
(End of Chapter)
