The neon sign "Karaoke Palace" flickered erratically, like a dying insect clinging to life. Its sputtering glow cast an uneven, ghostly light on the cracked pavement, while the faint buzz of its struggle was drowned out by the slurred murmurs of drunks sprawled across the sidewalks.

It was one of those nights—the kind where the lost drifted aimlessly, hollow remnants of who they once were. Others prowled the streets with restless urgency, their eyes desperate and hungry, chasing anything to fill the void. A night that felt alive with a quiet, lurking menace, leaning in to whisper, You really shouldn't be here.

Yet, here I was.

Why did I agree to this again? 

Oh right—because Satoshi swore there'd be no trouble!

He always promised that, and I always found myself regretting it.

 I checked my phone—no new messages. 

Typical.

The karaoke bar's entrance loomed like the mouth of a cave. I pulled my hoodie tighter, feeling the damp fabric cling to my skin. The city's hum seemed to fade as I stepped inside. The door closed with a heavy thud, sealing me into a dimly lit corridor lined with posters of long-forgotten pop stars and idols.

I approached the counter where a bored-looking middle-aged man barely lifted his gaze.

"Room?" he asked with a flat voice.

"Room 7," I replied.

He grunted and pointed his hand toward the hallway. "Go ahead."

The lights flickered overhead, casting jittery shadows on the peeling wallpaper as I walked toward the room.

"Satoshi?" I called, keeping my tone casual. The sound came out thin, as if my voice was trying to hide behind me.

"Over here!" His muffled voice came from down the hall.

There he was, sprawled across the couch in Room 7 with a half-empty bottle of sake beside him, the TV frozen on the image of some bubblegum pop singer.

"You made it!" he grinned, his eyes a bit too bright.

"Yeah, just like you said," I muttered, glancing around. The air was thick, musty, with the sharp scent of stale beer and mildew—mold, maybe. My stomach churned.

"Don't be such a downer. Here, drink." He shoved the bottle towards me. I took it, mostly to keep my hands busy.

I perched on the edge of the couch and took a sip. The sake burned all the way down, but at least it gave me something else to focus on.

"So, what's the plan?"

"No plan, just a little get-together," Satoshi replied.

I raised an eyebrow, not buying it.

"What?" he asked, catching my expression.

I didn't respond, just held his gaze as the silence grew heavier between us. Satoshi shifted, a hint of unease creeping into his expression.

"You're just paranoid. Can't we hang out without you thinking there's some grand scheme behind it?"

His eyes flicked toward the door, just for a fraction of a second.

Ah. There it is.

A sudden, loud bang jolted me out of my seat. Sake splashed onto my jeans as the door slammed open, revealing two figures stepping inside. The first—a tall guy in a battered leather jacket, his face was rough and bruised, but his smirk made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The second was a girl with dark, tangled hair and vacant eyes. As they stepped inside, the air seemed to shift, growing colder, heavier. They didn't belong here—and neither, I realized, did I.

"Meet Kenji and Mei," Satoshi announced, far too casually. "Friends of mine."

Kenji glanced at me, amusement dancing in his eyes as he took in the sight of my sake-stained jeans. "Looks like someone's already started the party."

I forced a smile. "Nice to meet you."

Kenji flopped onto the couch, sprawling out like he owned the place—or was about to. Mei lingered near the door, her gaze fixed on me, unblinking, as if dissecting every move I made.

Satoshi grabbed the mic and began singing a rendition of some overplayed pop song. I leaned back, sinking into the worn cushions, hoping to blend into the background. But something felt off. The atmosphere was thick with an unspoken tension, like everyone else was in on a joke I didn't get.

Kenji's phone buzzed on the table, snapping my attention back. I glanced over at Satoshi, but he was too lost in his off-key singing to notice. Kenji, however, hadn't missed a beat. He was watching me now, that smirk slowly creeping across his face.

"Your phone's ringing," I said, pointing to the table.

Kenji didn't look down. "I know." His voice dropped a notch. "Does it bother you?"

I shrugged. "Not at all, just thought you'd want to know."

Kenji chuckled, letting the phone buzz until it went silent. Satoshi kept singing, his voice overly loud and painfully upbeat, a forced attempt to drown out the uneasy silence Kenji seemed to create.

Alright, just relax. Let's try this again.

"Yeah," I said, forcing a casual tone. "Didn't want you to miss anything… important, you know?"

Kenji took a long, deliberate sip from the sake bottle, not breaking eye contact. "I don't miss things. Ever."

Satoshi laughed, "Guys, come on. We're here to have a good time." His eyes darted back to Kenji's phone, the faintest flash of worry staining his face.

The song ended, and the room was swallowed in silence again. Kenji passed the mic to Mei, who accepted it without a word. She picked a song I didn't recognize—slow and melancholic. Her voice, delicate yet unsettling, wove through the air, each note lingering with a chill that settled into my bones.

I have a bad feeling about this.

Mei's voice filled the room, and I scanned my surroundings, searching for a casual escape. Slowly and carefully, I inched toward the door, every instinct screaming at me to leave. But even the slightest movement felt like it might draw all their attention at once. My hand, slick with sweat, trembled as it closed around the door handle.

"Where are you going?" Kenji's voice sliced through the music, sharp as a knife.

"Just need some air," I stammered. "Be right back."

I slipped into the hallway, the door creaking softly as it closed behind me. The cool air brushed against my skin, a fleeting moment of relief before dread crept back in. A few steps down, I froze. Outside—a group of hulking silhouettes gathered near the door, their presence strong and threating. They didn't speak, didn't move. Just stood there, a silent warning that no one was getting in—or out.

Clearly not here for a "little get-together"

As I backed away, something caught my eye—the clerk from earlier, slumped behind the counter. He wasn't moving. Unconscious, or worse. My stomach twisted, each piece of the puzzle clicking into place with a sickening finality. The truth hit me hard: I wasn't just in over my head—I was drowning.

I turned back, retracing my steps to the karaoke room. The music had stopped. Satoshi, Kenji, and Mei were all watching me.

"What happened?" Satoshi asked, trying to break the silence with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Nothing. Just… bathroom," I replied, forcing calm into my voice.

Kenji's smirk faded, replaced with a cold, predatory stare. "What did you see?"

I kept quiet, letting the silence speak for me. Mei leaned over to Kenji, whispering something too low for me to hear. Her words were muffled, but the sharp glance she shot my way told me everything I needed to know—it wasn't good.

Without another word, Kenji slid his hand into his jacket. My pulse spiked, thundering in my ears, but I held my ground, refusing to flinch.

Satoshi's voice, usually so steady, wavered. "Hey, come on, we're just hanging out, right?" The crack in his tone betrayed the nerves he was trying—and failing—to hide.

Kenji froze, his gaze cold and impossible to read. Slowly, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a brown envelope. Relief rushed through me, but it didn't last long. He tossed the envelope onto the table, its contents spilling out haphazardly.

"We've got a job for you," Kenji said, his voice firm and commanding. "Something that only you can do."

I hesitated. "And if I refuse?"

Mei stepped forward, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl. "We have ways of making you cooperate," she said, her voice cold, leaving no room for doubt.

I glanced at Satoshi, but he avoided my gaze, his eyes fixed on the floor. His face was a mix of guilt and fear—a look I'd seen before but never truly understood. Now, it was impossible to ignore. He looked like a cornered animal, tense and ready to bolt, if only he had somewhere to run.

"Alright," I replied, exhaling slowly. "What do you need me to do?"

"Smart choice. Kenji's eyes gleamed with satisfaction

"Let's get started."