[Alice~]
They continued calling out.
[Alice~]
Even though they had long since died, even though they were nothing but residual fragments and dregs.
[Alice~]
They still remained here, calling out again and again for that person to appear.
These people's forms had been eternally fixed. With the extinguishing of their lives, all their thoughts, all their consciousness had vanished, leaving behind only these hollowed-out husks—and the final lingering desires and obsessions embedded within them.
The remnants gathered here knew nothing except [Alice].
They—no, these things could no longer be called human, nor even mononoke, for they no longer possessed the [obsession] necessary to act. They were nothing more than meticulously crafted… tools.
Nothing remained within them but Alice's name, Alice's existence. Like tape recorders fashioned from human flesh, they existed solely to amplify the concept of [Alice].
Perhaps… these husks were the final destination of those "patients" specially cultivated at Hirohota Mental Hospital.
Takakai silently pondered this.
Fujii Hiroshi, in his mad quest to resurrect the dead Alice, had tortured and murdered countless people. And now, they were all gathered here.
Hah. This "Alice" thing—born from the deaths of countless students, a murderer in life, and even in death, her followers continue the slaughter in her name.
"It reeks."
The overwhelming metallic stench of blood filled the air, thick enough to choke on. Takakai's voice was calm as he delivered his verdict.
[This stage is a recreation of the one where Alice first performed as an idol. The layout matches the photo left in the director's office.]
Maki's voice transmitted through the mental link as she observed the surroundings via Gotou #1.
"For the sake of 'ritual symbolism,' I suppose. He chose the most 'significant' stage."
Kumami, a cigarette clamped between his teeth, carefully surveyed the area as he slowly circled the stage.
He, too, noticed that the figures seated in the audience were neither mononoke nor truly alive. Their state was… peculiar. Similar to cursed objects, yet more stable, for they no longer possessed a coherent [obsession].
Tap—
Meanwhile, Gotou #1, under Ichi's control, was the first to attempt stepping off the stage—only to be blocked by an invisible barrier.
The stage was now inescapable.
Was this the prelude to the final act?
"..."
Only Miko remained silent, instinctively taking a step back.
In her vision, the audience members were all smiling—blissful, as if lost in another world.
She could see the bloodied wounds covering their bodies, the cruelty they had endured in life.
She could see the pulsating, purplish-red umbilical cords writhing from their forms, stretching upward into the endless darkness, vanishing into the void.
"They…"
She could hear their ceaseless calls for Alice.
Cries brimming with sincerity.
Yet devoid of any true emotion—just mechanical, mindless repetition.
Calling.
Still calling.
For how many years had this gone on?
A futile plea to an empty stage.
From life, to death—never stopping.
[Alice~]
[Alice, ah~]
[My Alice, return to me~]
In those voices, Miko felt nothing but dread.
"Can't break it. Damn it, this might've been a mistake."
After fruitlessly attempting to destroy the stage or force her way out, Kumami shook her head in resignation.
"It seems our arrival has… activated this place."
Takakai looked up. The stage lights, dim at first, now burned brighter, as if something was awakening.
A sinister presence gathered.
The footsteps of the security guards had vanished.
It was as though, the moment they set foot on this stage, the hospital had ceased to exist. The world had shrunk to this single, isolated space.
Click— Click—
Multicolored lights flickered to life, illuminating the stage in full.
The audience roared to life.
They clapped. They whistled. They screamed, leaped, waved their hands—some even stared with rapt, hungry eyes.
And upon the stage—
A figure materialized.
Takakai watched as Alice, clad in an ornate, elegant dress, appeared—microphone in hand, singing. His first instinct was to draw his blade and cut her down.
But he didn't.
It would be meaningless.
There was no aura.
Despite the oppressive, paralyzing miasma of the mononoke that had gathered earlier, the entity now on stage radiated nothing. No malice. No killing intent. Not even a presence.
Just… a phantom.
A hollow illusion of Alice, singing and dancing.
"So that's how it is."
Takakai understood.
To her fans, Alice had never been a complete being. They saw only a fragment—a beautiful, enchanting idea, stripped of all ugliness.
No matter how many died, no matter how many were sacrificed to create more devotees… the result was the same.
He reached out.
His hand passed through the illusion.
A facade, born from fanatical delusion, could never manifest anything real.
Fujii Hiroshi's obsession was doomed from the start. He never knew Alice—not truly. He refused to acknowledge her true nature. And so, failure was inevitable.
Which meant…
He would have changed tactics.
Is that why [Hirano Sousuke] appeared at the hospital?
Takakai didn't have the full picture yet. He didn't know what had transpired in this stage's final act.
But beside him—
Miko saw it.
A different performance from what the others witnessed.
Flames.
Flesh sizzled in the inferno, fat bubbling and popping.
[Yes! YES! This is it!]
Someone was howling in ecstasy.
[Execute the sinners! Give them the punishment they DESERVE!]
[And then—Alice shall be REBORN!]
[She will return to us! We will have her BACK! And this time—NO ONE will take her away again!]
The director's tearful screams rang out.
The crowd's chants grew louder, wild.
Miko slowly turned her head, tearing her gaze from the twisted, frenzied faces—
—and looked behind her.
There, in the flames—
A body, burning.
The stretcher was charred black.
The restraints—iron shackles—left no chance of escape.
Within the fire, it looked back at her.
Eyes empty.
And then, despair.
The audience's cheers drowned out the crackling of the blaze.
As always.
This was how it ended.
And then—
A voice.
Cold. Dead. Devoid of anything but resolve.
[Then come with me.]
[All of you—
—join me in HELL.]
The flames, once dying, erupted.
Fire surged, devouring the stage.
Yet the crowd's smiles never wavered.
Even as the inferno consumed them, they stayed.
[Be reborn in the flames! BE REBORN!]
Fujii Hiroshi prayed, fervent.
[The ones who hurt you have been PUNISHED! It's time to come BACK! Return to the world you LOVED! Alice, oh Alice—RETURN TO ME!]
The others joined in, pleading.
And the fire—
—answered.
A figure emerged from the blaze.
They shrieked in joy, rising to their feet—
Miko, too, stared.
Was that… Alice?
Then—
A policeman.
Tall, clad in tattered uniform.
His eyes—no longer human—scanned the crowd.
The gun in his hand clicked.
Safety off.
Aim steady.
At the nearest fan—
BANG.
Miko was shoved down—Takakai's body shielding her.
The bullet grazed his back, shearing through flesh. Blood fountained.
Only then did Miko's mind clear.
The stage—the audience—
Gone.
Instead—
A fifth figure stood on the platform.
A man.
Pistol raised.
Finger on the trigger.