Whispers of Shikiban:The king walks among us-Chapter 3 --

Reika's eyes snapped open, the world swimming in a haze of dim light and pounding pain. Her head throbbed like it had been cracked open and stitched back together wrong. The ceiling above was unfamiliar—wooden, cracked, smelling like dust and damp rot.

Where the hell am I?

She tried to sit up, and a jolt of pain lit up her back like a live wire. Her limbs were stiff, bruised in places she didn't even remember hitting. As she adjusted, something soft brushed her skin. Her brows furrowed.

Her clothes were different.

Gone was the blood-stained, torn-up shirt from before. In its place, a black nightdress, delicate and silky. The fabric felt alien against her rough skin—too clean, too dainty, too... wrong. She ran her hands down the sides, heart thumping harder now.

"What the hell..." she whispered.

Her memories were fragmented—blurs of chaos, pain, Souta's face twisted with something cruel. The scent of smoke, the sound of something inhuman screeching. Then, nothing. Just darkness.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the icy wooden floor. A chill shot through her, but it didn't ground her. The room was too quiet. No windows. Just four walls, one closed door, and a table. On the table sat a tray—steaming rice, teriyaki chicken, a glass of water, and a pristine glass of golden apple juice that shimmered almost unnaturally.

Her stomach growled, vicious and loud.

Before she could move, a voice sliced through the silence like a blade.

"Eat this, Kagetsu-san."

Her heart jumped into her throat. Reika spun toward the voice—no one. It wasn't human. It wasn't anything. Just a mechanical tone, emotionless, like it had never spoken to a person before.

Her eyes darted to the corners of the room. Nothing.

"Who's there?" she called out, fists clenched.

Silence.

Then, again, colder this time:

"Eat your morning meal, Kagetsu-san."

Morning? She didn't even know what day it was. The last thing she remembered clearly was blood. Hers. Someone else's. Maybe both.

She hesitated, lips pressed into a thin line. Then she moved to the table, slow and tense, as if the food might explode. She picked up the chopsticks with trembling fingers and forced a bite into her mouth. It was warm. Real. Maybe even good—but none of it tasted right. It was survival food. A trap, dressed up like comfort.

"There is a uniform beside the cabinet. Please wear it," the voice commanded again.

She almost cursed out loud. She was done being ordered around like some puppet, but... what choice did she have?

Dragging herself to the cabinet, she pulled open the door. A crisp black uniform hung inside—tailored, military-cut, with silver accents. A slim badge shimmered on the left breast. Beneath it, black boots and a long white coat that looked expensive enough to fund a small war.

She ran her fingers over the fabric, and a shiver skated down her spine.

It fit perfectly.

When she stepped outside, the cold hit her like a slap. She tightened the coat around her, boots echoing on the stone as she walked down a narrow alley lit by flickering lanterns.

That's when she saw them.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of people. All in the same uniform. Faces blank, eyes empty. No one spoke. No one looked at each other. It felt like a graveyard where the corpses hadn't figured out they were dead yet.

And then the voice returned, cutting through the silence like a scalpel.

"Follow the alley. You'll find a large door. It will open for you."

Reika clenched her jaw and obeyed, resisting the urge to snap back. Her nerves were taut, ready to snap, but she wasn't stupid. She needed answers, and whoever ran this freakshow clearly had them.

At the end of the path, a massive obsidian door loomed. It creaked open as she approached, groaning like some ancient beast. She stepped into a cavernous hall, ceiling swallowed by shadow, walls smooth and unnatural. Every step echoed loud, too loud, like it was daring her to make noise.

People filtered in, lining up without a word. Reika did the same, tension

Reika's eyes snapped open, the world swimming in a haze of dim light and pounding pain. Her head throbbed like it had been cracked open and stitched back together wrong. The ceiling above was unfamiliar—wooden, cracked, smelling like dust and damp rot.

Where the hell am I?

She tried to sit up, and a jolt of pain lit up her back like a live wire. Her limbs were stiff, bruised in places she didn't even remember hitting. As she adjusted, something soft brushed her skin. Her brows furrowed.

Her clothes were different.

Gone was the blood-stained, torn-up shirt from before. In its place, a black nightdress, delicate and silky. The fabric felt alien against her rough skin—too clean, too dainty, too... wrong. She ran her hands down the sides, heart thumping harder now.

"What the hell..." she whispered.

Her memories were fragmented—blurs of chaos, pain, Souta's face twisted with something cruel. The scent of smoke, the sound of something inhuman screeching. Then, nothing. Just darkness.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the icy wooden floor. A chill shot through her, but it didn't ground her. The room was too quiet. No windows. Just four walls, one closed door, and a table. On the table sat a tray—steaming rice, teriyaki chicken, a glass of water, and a pristine glass of golden apple juice that shimmered almost unnaturally.

Her stomach growled, vicious and loud.

Before she could move, a voice sliced through the silence like a blade.

"Eat this, Kagetsu-san."

Her heart jumped into her throat. Reika spun toward the voice—no one. It wasn't human. It wasn't anything. Just a mechanical tone, emotionless, like it had never spoken to a person before.

Her eyes darted to the corners of the room. Nothing.

"Who's there?" she called out, fists clenched.

Silence.

Then, again, colder this time:"Eat your morning meal, Kagetsu-san."

Morning? She didn't even know what day it was. The last thing she remembered clearly was blood. Hers. Someone else's. Maybe both.

She hesitated, lips pressed into a thin line. Then she moved to the table, slow and tense, as if the food might explode. She picked up the chopsticks with trembling fingers and forced a bite into her mouth. It was warm. Real. Maybe even good—but none of it tasted right. It was survival food. A trap, dressed up like comfort.

"There is a uniform beside the cabinet. Please wear it," the voice commanded again.

She almost cursed out loud. She was done being ordered around like some puppet, but... what choice did she have?

Dragging herself to the cabinet, she pulled open the door. A crisp black uniform hung inside—tailored, military-cut, with silver accents. A slim badge shimmered on the left breast. Beneath it, black boots and a long white coat that looked expensive enough to fund a small war.

She ran her fingers over the fabric, and a shiver skated down her spine.

It fit perfectly.

When she stepped outside, the cold hit her like a slap. She tightened the coat around her, boots echoing on the stone as she walked down a narrow alley lit by flickering lanterns.

That's when she saw them.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of people. All in the same uniform. Faces blank, eyes empty. No one spoke. No one looked at each other. It felt like a graveyard where the corpses hadn't figured out they were dead yet.

And then the voice returned, cutting through the silence like a scalpel.

"Follow the alley. You'll find a large door. It will open for you."

Reika clenched her jaw and obeyed, resisting the urge to snap back. Her nerves were taut, ready to snap, but she wasn't stupid. She needed answers, and whoever ran this freakshow clearly had them.

At the end of the path, a massive obsidian door loomed. It creaked open as she approached, groaning like some ancient beast. She stepped into a cavernous hall, ceiling swallowed by shadow, walls smooth and unnatural. Every step echoed loud, too loud, like it was daring her to make noise.

People filtered in, lining up without a word. Reika did the same, tension gnawing at her bones.

Then he appeared.

A man strode in from the far end—tall, ice-cold, dressed in a white uniform that shimmered with authority. His features were razor-sharp, almost inhumanly perfect. He walked like someone who'd never once needed to run.

Ten others flanked him, five on either side, all with golden badges. Their eyes scanned the room with mechanical efficiency.

But Reika only saw him.

Souta.

Standing right at the front, same uniform, same smirk. Like he hadn't betrayed her. Like he wasn't the reason she'd nearly died.

Her nails dug into her palms, blood rising in her throat.

The tall man stepped forward, raising his voice with the precision of a bullet.

"Welcome to Tenshiko Academy. I am Shijume Kenjiku. I run this place."

Silence fell like a guillotine.

Kenjiku's eyes swept the room. "This academy exists outside of public knowledge. When the Shikiban rise, it is the Kageshiki who answer."

Whispers stirred behind Reika. The word Shikiban carried weight, fear embedded in its syllables.

Kenjiku raised a hand. Silence returned.

"Shikiban appeared two thousand years ago. Beings so beautiful that humans fell for them before they realized the truth. By the time you see their real face, it's already over."

Reika's breath hitched. Her mind flashed to that twisted grin, that thing with wings and perfect features, bending like it had no bones.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

"They feed on humans. That's their true nature," Kenjiku continued. "Yes, they can mimic us. Yes, they can eat our food. But it weakens them. They hide, waiting, watching. And when they strike, even the military struggles to bring them down."

A beat of silence.

"That is why the Kageshiki exist. You will become weapons. You will not be heroes. You will not be remembered. But you will protect what remains of this world."

Reika swallowed hard. Her skin felt too tight. Her lungs didn't want to breathe. The room was colder now. Or maybe it was just the future closing in.

"You will undergo five levels of training. Each harder than the last. In the first, the Shikiban are weak enough to kill barehanded—if you're strong enough. But their corpses vanish. You must absorb their essence using a special blade we will provide."

He raised a hand, revealing a knife—black metal, humming with strange energy.

"The more you kill, the stronger your blade becomes. The stronger your blade, the closer you are to surviving."

Then, a voice from the crowd, quiet but clear:"What happens if we fail?"

Kenjiku's lips curled, humorless."Then you will be known as cowards. And cowards do not leave this place alive."

A chill ran down her spine.

Reika's gaze drifted back to Souta. His smirk hadn't faded. But his eyes... there was something hidden there. Something that made her blood turn to ice.

She didn't know what this place was. Didn't know what game they were playing.

But she could feel it.

Everything had changed.And tomorrow, the real nightmare would begin.