“Brother!”

  I forgot it was nighttime in the cathedral and shouted as I ran.

  My brother, resting in Mr. White’s lap, looked just like that sculpture from ancient religious art—the one called Pietà.

  A savior—probably someone like the Darkness in our faith—collapsed, lying in the lap of a beautiful woman.

  My art teacher had said they were mother and son, and that the man was already dead.

  …There was something strangely sensual about it.

  I immediately scolded myself for thinking such a thing.

  It felt like seeing the Darkness in a sexual light. Shame on me.

  But then, it hit me.

  What I was drawn to wasn’t the savior himself—

  It was the image of someone dead, and someone grieving that death.

  I was horrified.

  If it had only been something sexual, I could’ve brushed it off—at my age, anything can make you feel things. That’s normal.

  But to be fascinated by death and mourning—

  That’s not normal. That’s disturbing.

  Maybe it’s a miracle I’ve never committed a crime.

  I never told anyone about that sculpture.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  And now, right before me, the scene was playing out in real life.

  What happened to my brother?

  I was filled with fear—and something else entirely, something I didn’t want to name.

  “Kiyosumi-san…”

  It wasn’t me who reached him first, but Tsurubami.

  He knelt down and gently took my brother’s hand.

  My brother stirred, his eyelids fluttering open.

  “Thank goodness…”

  Tsurubami’s voice trembled.

  He had truly been worried.

  I dropped to my knees a moment later and asked Mr. White,

  “What happened?”

  Before he could respond, the owner cut in sharply.

  “You didn’t do anything to him, did you?”

  He glared at Mr. White.

  “Me? No, of course not! Kiyosumi-san just collapsed out of nowhere. I was as surprised as anyone!”

  Mr. White shook his head vigorously, denying it.

  But honestly—I had my doubts too.

  He didn’t seem surprised at all when we arrived.

  In fact, when I first saw his face in the shadows,

  I could swear he was smiling slightly.

  When he heard our footsteps, he quickly replaced that expression with one of concern.

  Either he did something—

  or he has the same twisted attraction I do…

  “Akisumi…”

  My brother’s soft voice snapped me out of it.

  “Are you okay? What happened? Did you… get one of those headaches?”

  The owner offered him a bottle of water.

  “I saw… a bell in the shape of a person. Then everything went black.”

  My brother took a sip of water and spoke slowly.

  What was he talking about?

  Did Mr. White give him some kind of strange drug?

  He is a pastor of the Church of Medicine. It wouldn’t be impossible.

  “I saw it too,” Mr. White said.

  “But it didn’t affect me. Maybe our bodies react differently.”

  Wait—Mr. White saw the same thing?

  “A person-shaped bell? Like the ones I use at my shop?” the owner said.

  “I run it alone, so I put those bells on tables so customers don’t have to yell when they need me.

  They’re shaped like women with balloon-like skirts.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said reflexively.

  But then my brother responded:

  “That’s exactly it.

  Dull silver, massive. It was floating above the altar.”

  He took another sip of water.

  I fought down the rising panic, waiting for his next words.

  “Then the bell swayed side to side once, rang loudly… and when it did, my consciousness was in the underground world.”

  And so my brother began to describe something truly strange.