Manabe, the southern most city of the Hokkaido prefecture; sleepy, cold, dull, uncertain. The developments made in this city was done with the intention that it would be the next Sapporo, an attempt at an urban sprawl in the chilly mountains of the northernmost region of my country, Japan. Yet despite the city's efforts, it ended in utter failure, a total economical disaster that no one in the city wants to talk about. The popution is 80k, well under half of expectations, a pity. I used to come to this city, back when I was a kid, at least three times a year. A family friend had a home here, but had to move due to the economic decline, I haven't been here since I was fourteen.

  If you're thinking I'm here reminiscing, you have a wrong idea about who I am. I'm not the type who looks back on his time in school, not ever, and especially not in a wistful manner you'd see in a typical sequel to a generation's slice of life series. I was only in the writing club very briefly, and that was my first year in high school. I never had any sort of sting friendship. And I most certainly am not the sort that teacher's could tell stories about, unless if they wanted to bore their fresh faced audience of teenaged captives to death.

  I am in Manabe for a very specific reason, on this particurly chilly March afternoon, a library visit. I came all the way up to Manabe for it's famous, or infamous, public library. Akahoshi Public Library, it's Kanji being the same one you'd see as a surname, a way of referring to Antares, or Jupiter. An architectural nightmare, a 12 story tall building in the center of Manabe, it has an outer shell, made of thick gss windows framed with steel beams, each lining up perfectly to create grids upon grids of rhombi. The shape of this shell is... weird, to put it lightly. I've heard it's meant to look like a stack of books, or a novel being pulled open, or even something as hyper specific as "a child's bag full of school supplies" which sounds like an answer to annoying game of Shiritori. The inside is a series of 12 ptforms, each varying in size and width, containing the various sections you'd expect in a normal library, just vertically so instead of horizontally.

  I am looking for the records, ones that pertain to this city, as nothing really exists online. Officially it's merely a school trip, your average Liberal Arts major coming to a library to read it's stuffy records, which smell of old linen and dust. But that's not really my intention, I'm here for a case, one for my online detective work.

  Allegedly, upwards of thirty people have up and vanished in this city from the year it was built to the current year, that's twenty years of mysterious disappearances unaccounted for. As the dedicated archiver of events like this occurring in Japan, I cannot stand for that. So after waiting for the st day this week I had csses, and a stretch of three days which my part time job won't need me, I made the expedition up north.

  The northern entrance, an almost sheer surface leading up, with a sudden curve at it's very top. The spine of this outdated encyclopedia, baring it's title just above an automatic door, I wonder how many people may have thought that this pce specialized in astrological studies with such a specific name. I take a few cautious steps forward, the motion causing the doors to slide open cleanly, the warm air inside wafts towards me enticingly. Admittedly, as I step into the main entrance, in all my waxing philosophical, I got really cold outside. I'm a shut in at heart I suppose, the draw of a warm building during a frigid winter is more alluring than anything in my opinion. Even compared to a bowl of ramen after a long walk, a bed freshly washed begging for a flop into it's embrace, an athletic junior asking if I could massage her sore thighs...

  You know what I can't in good conscious ever imply that the st part isn't anything but heavenly, you'd have to have a cold heart to not find a sort of joy in that. The mere thought of hearing the carefree yelling of "Senpai!" whilst being approached by a girl in a ponytail. That is justice, hope, truth! And I am getting distracted!

  Shaking off the impure thoughts unbefitting of a researcher, I look around the floor, expecting to see fellow students and academics walking about. Yet the third floor has what seems to be no other residents, save for yours truly. Compared to it's outndish exterior, the main floor seems retively standard for a library, about as standard as this pce can get at least. A rge and open floor, with a long stretch of dark gray linoleum flooring from here on the north entrance, to the other side of the building on the south. The linoleum side houses things such as desks meant for studying, chairs you could read on casually, and most oddly enough what seems to be a mostly empty gift shop that seems more like an office cubicle than a little shop. Peering inside, it's specialty books, t-shirts, and even puzzles depicting the building itself. Who the hell buys a t-shirt for a library?

  The other side of this floor, the rows upon rows of shelves, all situated on top of carpet. Walking through them, I see various cssical literature, modern novels, and transted works of science fiction which I've already read more than likely. At least that is what captured my attention. Curiously, I still have yet to find another member of the public among these dispys of books, or anyone really. You'd think they'd have librarians walking about, answering inane questions they've heard a million times before. Or hell, even a librarian manning the check out counter, but after emerging from the rows and heading to the front, the final stop of a library trip is entirely devoid of any help, even I wanted to check a book out.

  I look around, sucking on my cheeks, as I see what I need to do, speak somewhat loudly in a library. "Hello?" My unimpressive voice beckons for anyone to answer. Hell I'd take an irritating kid disrupting the silence of this scene at this point. You'd expect a library to be quiet, but this isn't that, it's silent, save for my own footsteps breaking the stillness of the utter vacuum that is the air in this floor.

  After my initial search failed, I found the second floor, or the entrance to it. In the middle of the third floor is a massive opening, surrounded by chest high railings made of steel. Or it should be open, but the top entrance to what I'd ter discover was an auditorium was shut, an equally rge bck partion pulled over it, decorated with white stencil drawings depicting an empty theater painted on.

  An escator down, a still operating one at that. Any fears that I'd walked into a closed library can atleast be at ease. I step onto the descending steps, entering a downwards tunnel, lit with overhead strip of pure white light, giving the wood paneled tunnel a warmth to it. The silence has thankfully been cut by the gentle whirring of the automated stairs under me, the typically forgettable drone of gears and pulleys seems like a comfortable symphony compared to the rest of this pce.

  The first floor, the southern entrance, the more commonly used one. This building takes up an entire city block, the 44th block of Manabe-Chou, seems like a waste of space to me. Exploring the ground floor is even more normal than the third, I'd believe you if you said this was all there was to the library if I came in through the south. How odd, someone's opinion of this pce can change by the door you came in.

  The first floor is entirely built on solid wooden paneling, or imitation wood. To my left, rows of nguage books, an empty help desk, and what seems to be rooms you could rent for longer studying sessions behind. An odd selection of transted magazines, newspapers from all over the world, and manuals for common appliances. I stop, the newspaper recounting events from America is dated yesterday, so someone changed it very recently. Next to it, the news coming from Russia is also only a day old. Even after snooping around for nearly 10 minutes, checking the papers from Argentina to Pakistan to Korea, all up to date.

  Peering down the hall, I can see what is by far the most normal section I've seen yet. Protected by an empty security table, a section meant entirely for children 12 and under. Peeking inside, rows of children's books, manga, early study guides, and books depicting artworks from around the world. What an odd thing to make me smile, considering no one's here to even enjoy this dispy.

  "Hey, hey, look!" A voice from my past told me, showing me the photographic guide to the works of Michengelo. "You can see this guy's weiner!" His observation got us in serious trouble.

  Curse the brain and it's associations it forms.

  Pushing that aside, I returned to the third floor, and headed up another set of escators. This time, the tunnel was painted a stark yellow, the lights giving the entire tunnel a very sickly glow, maybe if it was night it'd look nicer.

  The fifth floor, odd I never found anything that lead to the fourth, though maybe that's intended. Superstitions are alive and well even now a days. A computer b, built on solid metal paneling. The desks are out in the open, no partions, walls, or anything giving you any sort of seperation. My feet give off a loud cck as I take every step, rather distracting flooring, maybe that's why this pce is empty. That or everyone else here just knows it's too much of a pain to go through, which I am quickly learning. I approach the end of the ptform, looking down at the floor under me, the library floor. Maybe I should yell something, if no one's here it'd be fine. But if someone is here, I'd be kicked out faster than I could finish my scream.

  "Penis!" I whisper, my attempt to be funny didn't travel far, as the grids absorbed my childish blurting out. I chuckle to myself, maybe this could at least be an amusing trip, having a library all to myself was always a dream of mine as a kid. Unlike my contemporaries, I was a very sheltered child by choice, save for some experiences I had thrust upon me. "Vagina!" Yeah it's not as funny if it doesn't echo...

  Another escator, notice that I used a singur denomination. Before me, in the middle of the b, is a thin escator, colored the same garish yellow as the other escator. It only goes up, and after a scanning of the area, it's the only way up it would seem. How am I supposed to get down exactly? You know I really see why this pce isn't popur now, this feels like some pretentious bastard's idea of artistic design.

  With my back hunched forward, a grimace on my face, and my hair hanging past my eyes, I step up onto the escator. I let out a grumble, I'd have to find a way down ter, that record is my number one priority after all. And where do perverted fantasies of athletic women and saying dirty words fit into that priority list, you may ask? Shut up. Go jump off a cliff. Shoo. Find a field and plow it as the Irish say.

  I quickly become entrapped in a very narrow tunnel upwards, lined with glowing yellow paneling covering the walls, rails, and at this point I wouldn't be shocked if the steps themselves glowed in this shithole! I look around, staring up at my ascent, only to see I'm not even half way up yet. The worst part of it is that the yellow isn't some nice bumble bee, Bruce Lee, hot foreigner in an anime hair yellow. It's the sort of yellow you'd get when the puke green crayon rubbed against your nice golden one, ruining it forever sort of yellow.

  Getting bored, and since I'm alone, I sit down on the escator, facing backwards as it takes me up. Peering down I blink rapidly, unable to comprehend what I'm looking at. I've barely gone up far at all, only having just entered the tunnel in the ceiling. I sigh, maybe I'm just a horribly impatient person, makes sense, I always blow summoning resources in Gacha on single summons.

  I swear to all that is sane, however, belying my attempts to deny the oddity of this escator, that I've been on here for a whole minute. Shutting my eyes for a moment, I quickly am woken up by the motion of falling backwards, nding on the soft bck pstic flooring at the top of the escator. I quickly stand up, brushing myself off of any grime or dust, why did I sit down on the ground, in public no less?

  Just then, the sounds of that loud ccking rings out below me, someone is here after all. I rush over to the edge, hoping to see someone.

  To my horror, I see someone in my old high school's uniform. A tall boy with messy bck hair, walking by casually, that same carefree gaunt with his hands tucked in his pockets. I shut my eyes, it was either just a visiting student or a trick of the eyes, you're grounded, you're here, there's no danger. I grip my head, turns out I'm trembling, I need to see, I have to. But the fact that I'm stuck up here becomes readily availible, the escator is way too fast for me to descend by simply walking down it.

  "Just your imagination..." Like an idiot I talk to myself, spping my cheeks, and turning around. I ascend the rest of the escator, it going by gruelingly slow, as expected. The paneling ends, and in it's stead, gss windows giving a view into the non fiction section of this library. Old history books, the sort of records I'm not looking for, all in these painfully sterile looking rooms. White walls, floors, even the shelves are white, I swear even the books are white! I rub my eyes, I'm going to pass out!

  I reach the top, my hopes of finding what I was looking for being immediately dashed as I reach the top. Seems like I overshot it, no, how could I there was only the escator? There was only just that odd ptform, but there wasn't any doors or stairs or anything. Walking along the steel panels, I peer out over the railing, to see I'm at the absolute top of the building. The library's third floor looks dizzyingly low where I'm stood, directly below me, are what seems to be rows of metal drawers locked shut. Where the hell are the records?

  I lean against the railing, and sigh, I may as well check this floor out. It takes me three loops to realize that all I've reached is an observatory, who the hell builds an observatory so you could look out into a building!? Just empty desks, empty chairs, empty! I lean over the railing, and sigh again, nothing, zip, nada, zero.

  My wandering eyes suddenly stop, as I look at the center of this ptform. In the middle is a rge column shaped strutcture, the support for all the ptforms that make up the pages to this misbeled dictionary of a building. What catches my eye, is a guide, not a map but an expnation of every floor, drawn in stark white on the pin gray cylinder made of metal.

  Floor 12: Observatory, how arrogant!

  Floor 11: Manabe-Chou Building records. Why do you need a floor for just that!?

  Floor 10: Waxing area? What does that even mean?

  Floor 9: Pondering area!? That's the same thing!

  Floor 8: News Records.

  I blink twice, salvation! I can find what I'm looking for there, I'll take a few pictures of the articles I'm looking for, then leave. I'm going to go to a manga cafe, drown my sorrows in cheap tea and Ecchi until I pass out. Also Ice Cream, I hope they have Ice Cream. Though that must be the Tokyo Boy audacity in my talking.

  The elevators are out, I was hoping to take them down, but it seems like the lifts aren't even in the shaft anymore, how did they manage that? I sigh once again, if I got money for every sigh I'd be mildly wealthy, not too much so. I'd take any kind of money at this point though.

  I approach a door I saw earlier, one I really didn't want to go in, the stairwell. I saw it a few times walking around aimlessly, and hoped to any voice that could hear me that the elevator would be working, yet it would seem I am destined to start my own divine comedy, my descend into hell. That's not very funny.

  I pull the door open, and step into the stairwell, the metal door making a loud snap as it closes shut. The well itself is lit in an unworldly glow, it's almost completely dark inside, with deep orange flood lights lining each corner of each wall. It's so weirdly ominous in here, like something out of a bad horror movie. To my left, the stairs going up to the roof, which has been blocked off with an orange chain. My right, the descent proper. Ignoring any childish thoughts, I begin my descent to the eighth floor, but stop as soon as my foot hits the first step. I pause, and take the next, then the next, and the next one after that. Silent, deathly so, even more so than the ground floor was. The ambient noises of cars outside, the air from heating vents, even just my own footsteps, gone. I open my mouth, considering talking to myself as to fill the vacuum, but stop, I feel like that is an awful idea. Like something wants this quiet, something demands this quiet, that if I make so much as a peep whatever it is will rip me limb from limb.

  Ridiculous, this library is just getting to you man, forget it just keep going. Downwards I go, swallowing my fear, denying the primordial unease in my gut as simply tricks of the mind. If you have ever been completely alone in the wilderness, you know that if it's completely silent, something is there that is causing said quiet. A predator typically, that is the only analogy I can make. I feel like I'm being stalked, by someone or something, just behind me, dancing amongst the shadows, pying out of sight. I whip my head around, only to see nothing behind me, this paranoia is really getting to me. Maybe the security is going to toss me out for my immature callings.

  I count four floors descended, the eighth floor I was aiming for should be right here, good I can get out of this creepy...

  4.

  Written in blood red stenciling, is the number four, lit up surprisingly well by the orange light. What? I only went down four floors? I counted, I knew I had to given how dark this pce is, that makes no sense at all? Did I just go into auto pilot and miss a few floors? I'd certainly feel it in my legs if I descended almost the whole building without noticing. Maybe, though, I'm not exactly the most lucid guy you'll meet. Never mind that, I'll just go up.

  CLIK!

  Suddenly, previously unseen overhead lights switch on, giving the shadowy descent a blindingly bright white fsh. I grunt, shutting my eyes, the sudden lighting change hurting my eyes. Just when I got used to the dark, someone turns the lights on. I rub my eyes, groaning as I do, that hurt like hell. Squinting, I begin my ascent, trying to make up for lost time, I hurry up, hopping up the steps at a reasonably fast speed.

  4.

  Again? Now I know something's wrong, I just went up four floors, why am I back here? That I cannot mistake, I just went up! I look again, the same four written in blood red paint, even the dark couldn't hide that unmistakable feature. I must have missed something, I did not just loop back around. Wait the st time, that four was in the dark, maybe I misread it. I ascend again, trying to shake this off.

  4.

  I know I saw four st time, I know did! I counted four floors exactly! That same bloody red four, the same looking ptform, same pipes, it's all the same. I look up the steps, if I started at four I'd be back up at the top, yet the chain blocking my entering the roof access is gone. I decide to go up one floor, that will clear things up.

  4.

  Someone must have vandalized this pce, spray painted fours over the original numbers. But that doesn't make sense, I should be at the roof by now, I know so! I was at the top floor! I should go down, I'll just leave and come back ter when there's employees. That will clear things up.

  4.

  The same going down too? I'll try again.

  4.

  I just went down two floors and am still at four, the same ptform, same pipes, same stencil same everything! I'll go up!

  4.

  This isn't possible, not at all, I must just be imagining things. If I keep going up I'll see the chain that stopped me from going onto the roof!

  I run up, not holding back, I sprint up the stairs, practically crawling on all fours to propel myself up.

  4.

  4.

  4.

  4.

  4.

  It's all four! I've gone up what must be 12 floors! But I'm still here! This isn't possible, this is breaking every w of physics that you could imagine! This is wrong, so wrong. I grab my phone, hand shaking as I brandish my smartphone. No service, I can call for emergency help! I mash the prompt asking if I want to make an emergency call, nothing, absolutely nothing. I mash for what feels like minutes before I drop my arm to my side.

  Nothing, I'm completely stuck in this stairwell, I can't go up, or down, I'm stuck on the hidden floor, four. The fourth floor which had no stairway up, no escator, nothing! Panting, I look up at the sign, the forbidden floor of four.

  Red Room. That is all that is said under the number four, every other floor gave you an idea of what id beyond, or just the general gist, but this? What is a red room? Is it like a green room you'd find at a venue? What am I doing? If I'm lost then I need to go in, I'll find something to get me out of here. Hell I'll even break a window if I have to.

  I swing the door open, fearing that I'd find another stairwell on the other side. But my fears would be answered in a far different way, beyond what I could imagine. Outside the door, was only red. as far as I could see, an endless hallway, covered from wall, to floor, to ceiling, to what should be windows. Red, blood red, a sheen over the sanguine covering that gave it the appearance of blood coating every inch of this Red Room.

  Every fiber of my being, from the deepest and oldest parts of my soul, are saying the same thing. Don't go in, starve in the stairwell, it's preferable. I swallow a spiky ball of spit, and step out into the blood soaked hallway, the room of red as it called itself. I wonder who named it that? The room itself? Don't be absurd this is reality. You are really here. You are here.

  The door sms shut behind me, startling me to the point of almost falling over. I twist around, to see the door behind me is as red as the rest of this hellish hallway, spattered with red paint and a sickening sheen. I turn around again, and begin walking down the hallway.

  The clicking of my feet on the linoleum is almost comforting, almost, given the gruesome appearance of the hallway I'm in, I can't find any sort of comfort.

  I stop, finding a red door like the one I saw before, twisting the knob revealed that it was more decoration than anything, the knob not even jiggling. My breathing is ragged, my legs shake, from exhaustion and utter terror. I continue down the hall.

  My head feels like it's being spun, every centimeter of space save for me is red, so red, all so damn red! I feel dizzy, stopping for a moment, as I press my hand on the wall besides me. I look up, and see what was waiting for me at the end of the hall.

  Four branching paths, each hall aside from my own seems to have what seems to be painted over windows, blotted out with bloody red paint. I stumble forwards, standing in the intersection. I spin my body around, begging the universe for some kind of discerning feature, but no matter how many times I turn, how fast I turn, red as far as my eyes can see. I'm in a sea of blood, isoted, without any signs of life.

  I approach window on the left most hallway, staring at the caked on paint. Without hesitating, I kick it, as hard as I can. I let out a pathetic grunt as I do, leading to what feels like my entire body shaking from the impact. I step back, wincing from the pain, and then swing my leg again. Nothing, not a crack.

  I kneel down, and start scratching at the window with my thumbnail, hoping to get through it I'd do anything to see color again. Nothing, not a scratch, I could do this for hours, until my finger was bone, just a nub. And it'd be nothing. I stand up, and extend my right arm out, leaning against the window.

  "What?" The first word I've said aloud in what must be two hours, and that is all I can muster. I have so many questions, where am I anymore? Am I awake? Maybe I've just lost it?

  THUD

  I hear a loud impact to my right, and see what seems to be a rge crater in the red floor, just under my right arm. A crater roughly half a meter in diameter, with what looks like five rge gashes at the top. I didn't even feel it, the ground just impacted.

  I hear a disgusting noise, a sloshing, slickened sound. And then, what sounded like soft flesh spping against hard tile, just to my right. And then, water, pouring down. I look just below the crater, and to my horror, ying on a clear puddle, is my severed right arm. Red blood gushes out of my elbow, like a waterfall.

  I don't even scream, letting out a startled grunt, looking at the bloody arm on the ground. Whatever cut my arm off, whatever made that impact, takes a step, crushing the ground under it. I step backwards, the pain from my wound finally hitting me. A sharp, burning, agonizing pain, so horrid I feel like vomiting.

  At st, a noise emerges from deep within me. Terror, dread, agony, and a long silent sorrow. The ending of a life that was meant to be normal, the side character in the cast to the lead. I was just dismembered by an invisible demon, my arm cleaved clean off, barely even fraying the ends of the threads that make up my bzer. From deep within, a rumbling my from my chest, a scream.

  A bloodcurdling scream.