Chapter 43

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Standing in the dimly lighted warehouse, Shota could feel the cold concrete beneath his feet. Other yomigaeri surrounded him, their eyes unseen and their faces expressionless. They were the dead living, or maybe better put, the living dead.

The warehouse itself had become barren and dilapidated, a mere shadow of its former bustling self. The walls were covered in rusted pipes, the exposed metal dripping with rust. The yomigaeri's calm, steady breathing seemed to be rhythmed by the sound of pouring water resonating in the great expanse.

Shota's eyes turned to the windows, where fragments of moonlight were peeking through the broken glass. The broken glass illuminated the dirt and debris that had accumulated over the years, creating a pattern across the floor resembling a diamond.

A big circle had been painted on the floor in the middle of the space. Engraved into the concrete were symbols and mysterious inscriptions, which only the yomigaeri understood.

As Shota scanned the setting, his mind raced with thoughts as he tried to make sense of his own existence.

With deliberate slowness, Shota raised his head to look at the yomigaeri's faces. Their features were fixed in an unchanging state of death, and their emotions were emotionless. But it was the realization of what he had done that terrified Shota, not their emptiness.

Shota felt fear shoot through his veins like icy water, numbing his limbs and nearly reviving his already-dead heart. His hands shook as he grasped at the edges of his torn clothes, and his breathing came in short, terrified gasps.

It seemed as if he were perched on the brink of some unfathomable fate, perched on the edge of a vast chasm. He felt as though the darkness was choking him as it closed in about him like an unseen vice.

A yomigaeri tore away from the gathering, walking purposefully in Shota's direction. His eyes seemed to pierce the darkness with an unsettling intensity, yet being hollow and soulless. A sarcastic smile stretched across his face as he got closer, transforming his normally expressionless features into a hideous look of laughter.

"So, Shota, I hear you've enraged the mistress," the yomigaeri remarked, his voice dripping with a malicious joy.

Shota could feel the energy that freed the yomigaeri giving him chills on his dead skin. He made an effort to control his breathing, but the yomigaeri's oppressive presence was engulfing him from every angle.

"What do you mean, exactly?" Shota stumbled, speaking hardly audible above a whisper.

Shota shuddered at the sound of the yomigaeri's laughter. "Oh, don't be so stupid," he scoffed. "Everyone is aware of your actions. Mistress is not happy about this. Actually, she's enraged.

"I didn't mean to..." Shota started, but a piercing, sarcastic chuckle from the yomigaeri interrupted him.

His smile grew as he added, "Of course you didn't." But now, intentions don't really matter, do they? How you plan to make amends is the only thing that counts. I can assure you, Shota, that the mistress is demanding a steep price.

With a chilly breath, the yomigaeri pushed in closer, covering Shota's face. In a whisper, he said, "You should be afraid." "A great fear."

A cold sweat spread across Shota's brow. His thoughts were a maelstrom of fear and confusion. Shota felt that whatever lay ahead of him would be nothing less than a nightmare as the yomigaeri's words lingered in the atmosphere like a foreboding omen.

A second yomigaeri advanced, severing the tension like a blade. Even with the same lack of vitality, his look conveyed a sense of authority that demanded notice. With an iron grasp, he planted a solid hand on the yomigaeri's mocking shoulder.

The second yomigaeri spoke calmly but with a clear weight in his voice, "Enough." The mistress has finished speaking. Shota now has an opportunity.

The first yomigaeri's sarcastic smile wavered, giving way to a reluctant acceptance expression. Shaking off the touch on his shoulder, he stepped back while keeping his gaze fixated on Shota.

"Let it be," the stern Yomigaeri went on. "It is obvious what the mistress wants. It is not our place to meddle.

With resolute eyes, the commanding yomigaeri turned to face Shota. He uttered, "Do not waste this chance," in a tone that was both reassuring and cautionary. "The mistress's patience is not well-known."

The first yomigaeri crossed his arms and gave the authoritative figure a glare, his mocking expression having been replaced with a pouting scowl. "It's unfair," he complained, a hint of resentment in his voice. "Shota and other weaklings are not deserving of second opportunities. He ought to have been put to better use in her investigation.

The stern yomigaeri turned to face him, his stare unflinching. He firmly said, "It is not for us to question the mistress's decisions." "We don't know what her plans are for Shota."

With disdain, the first yomigaeri's gaze flicked back to Shota. He spit out, "He's just a liability." "A time and resource waster."

With the weight of the words bearing down on him, Shota stood still. He strained as the icy pavement underfoot appeared to get much colder as he struggled to keep his composure.

The commanding yomigaeri repeated, "Enough," in a tone that allowed for no resistance. Where you fail to perceive value, the mistress does. We are not to question her will, but to submit to it.

The yomigaeri continued to whimper, huffing in exasperation. He gave Shota one last snide look and then turned away, vanishing back into the shadows along with the others.

With a lingering sense of wrath and animosity, Shota watched him leave. He inhaled deeply, attempting to dispel the residual doubt. Regardless of how others saw him, the mistress's second opportunity was a lifeline he couldn't afford to throw away.

The commanding yomigaeri hovered for a while, his face enigmatic. He gave Shota one last icy look, his gaze bearing a mixture of warning and expectation. Without another remark, he turned and walked back into the shadows, disappearing completely as the darkness progressively engulfed his figure.

With the stifling silence closing in on him, Shota stood by himself in the poorly lighted warehouse. The experience stayed like a harsh aftertaste, but in the middle of uncertainty and anxiety, a resolve that blazed hotter than ever before surfaced.