Trapped on a Terrifying Island, This Good-for-Nothing Just Wants to Survive

1.

After a long wait, the food finally arrived. Following a hearty meal, Mikagawa, flushed and unsteady, eventually leaned against a wall and fell asleep.

The owner chuckled at the sight: “Ah, the young man’s drunk again, seems he won’t be waking up soon! I’ll have my son take him to a single room on the first floor, and we’ll waive the room charge. Rin, come here!”

A young man with sharp eyebrows and a tall figure came over. He and Genji struggled to carry the inebriated Mikagawa to a bed near the room’s entrance.

“Huff… huff… Senior really needs to watch his diet; it’s tough even for two guys to carry him!” Genji, exhausted and breathless, couldn’t help but complain loudly.

The guest room lacked a TV, so Genji spent the afternoon scrolling through his phone, with no new messages from his father. He considered visiting the Cicada Hidden Town police station for updates but couldn’t leave Mikagawa alone, risking aspiration.

As Genji pondered this, Mikagawa turned over with a start, mumbling semi-consciously, “Meio, don’t join that project, you might…”

Before he could finish, he resumed his deep, steady breathing, not waking up until dinner. The disaster prevention broadcast rang out on time, signaling the approach of evening.

To match Cicada Hidden Town’s “Russian Week,” the broadcast played “Tired Sun,” a Polish tango popular in the Soviet Union during the 1930s.

Mikagawa slept soundly and seemed to need no further care. Genji quietly left the room, finding a seat by the window to listen to the melancholic melody.

The mournful violin and deep baritone voice, mixed with the static of old records, took on a haunting quality in the sunset glow.

With few customers left, the staff slowed down and immersed themselves in the sad tune. A burly man with Slavic features hummed along with the song, his deep voice cracking, turning away to wipe away tears discreetly.

Why was he crying? Was it for a lost love? Genji, who had never been in love, couldn’t fully grasp such nuanced emotions.

While pondering, Rin brought over his food.

“It’s getting late; are you staying with your friend? We can add a fold-out bed by the window in the single room.”

Rin’s Japanese was fluent, without a hint of a Chinese accent.

Gratefully, Genji nodded. Without Mikagawa to guide him, he wasn’t sure he could safely return to the dormitory.

And what had the girl said that day?

“Stay here from 7 PM to 5 AM. Don’t go to Cicada Hidden Town. It’s an unbreakable rule.”

Right, if he got lost in Cicada Hidden Town and couldn’t return to the institute by 7 PM, he would be breaking the rule. Better to stay overnight at Duanmu Pavilion.

2.

Near 7 PM, the landlady reminded Genji to close and lock the room’s doors and windows, turn off the main lights, draw the curtains, and leave only a nightlight on.

Leaning forward, she whispered a cautionary note: “The messengers of the gods will perform an exorcism soon. Don’t interfere, or you’ll be punished!”

Seeing him comply, the kind-faced middle-aged woman left reassured.

Intrigued, Genji contemplated sneaking out to take a look.

Despite his usual cautiousness, like hiding when he witnessed security personnel assaulting a student, he felt unusually bold now, probably because he didn’t believe in ghosts and spirits.

Had his grandparents not been consumed by a new religious movement after his mother’s death, praying and seeking divine intervention, their later years wouldn’t have been mired in suffering.

The gods never blessed them, but instead, the couple, lifelong scientists, got drawn into hardship.

Scam artists playing god, the worst.

3.

The windows of the old inn were covered with shoji paper. If he opened a slit to peek out, the view would be limited.

Fortunately, their room was on the first floor, making entry and exit easy. Genji silently opened the window, slipped out, and quietly closed it. He held his breath and quickly hid in nearby bushes.

From beyond the hills came the solemn sound of a shakuhachi, seemingly a signal.

Was it starting?

Genji tensed up, ready to face what was coming.

After a long wait, the messenger of the gods finally arrived.

Under the dim streetlight, a slender figure in white kimono and red hakama, wearing a mantis mask, approached. She carried a bow and arrows, a sword at her waist, and a pot in hand. Whenever she encountered one of the wedge-shaped stones, she stopped, dipped a brush into the pot, and hastily wrote charms on the stone.

Genji

recognized those dark red stones, exuding an ominous aura like bloodied livers.

After the priestess moved on, he cautiously approached the Bloodstone, touching its surface to find a wet, red liquid. A strong scent of blood hit him.

“There’s actual blood. It’s not just iron-rich rock.”

He hurried forward, maintaining a safe distance behind her.

Just when Genji thought he was undetected, the priestess vanished. Despite looking around, he couldn’t find her, eventually sighing in resignation.

“Ah, lost her. Better head back.”

Suddenly, an arrow flew by, grazing his clothes. Genji fell to his knees, his legs weak.

That was close!

By the time he recovered, a blade was already at his throat.

“You have violated the rule.”

Behind the mask came a cold, unemotional voice he had heard before in his mind.

It was her, no doubt about it.

Genji cautiously looked up, stealing a glance: “Have we… met before, at the Wall of Sages?”

The blade trembled slightly before being sheathed, its sharpness retracted.

“It’s not safe at night. I can pretend nothing happened, but others might not…” She adjusted her disheveled clothing, sighing softly, “Go back, and don’t sneak out again.”

Declaring an irrevocable edict like a divine messenger, she turned and left, not waiting for his response.

A faint birdcall echoed from afar. Genji remained frozen, watching her figure dissolve into the dense night.