The fragments of the past were slowly coming together.
What had been buried beneath [Alice]'s dominance—the truths hidden in history's shadows—were now being uncovered at an accelerating pace.
In a way, one could say that Alice herself had been the greatest obstacle of the [Fujika Middle School] dungeon. With her gone, the remaining challenges seemed almost trivial.
But after witnessing the core obsession—after understanding why [Hirano Sousuke] could not find peace—Takakai had to admit:
This was far more complicated than he'd anticipated.
Hirano's obsession… had nothing to do with Alice.
And yet, Alice was still at its heart.
Hirano Sousuke had once been a [bad student] at Fujika Middle School—one of the few who survived the institution's final, most grotesque years.
When he first arrived, he'd been naive. A middle-schooler told his family's safety depended on his performance. He'd tried. Really tried.
But a few missteps—minor rule violations—dragged him into the [bad student] category.
Had it not been for that teacher, he would've died in that hellhole.
And because he had survived… he knew about Alice.
The invisible monster born from the "model students."
A creature whose hypnotic allure had nearly broken him—repeatedly.
That teacher had shielded him. From the researchers. From Alice. Even during the school's collapse, when Alice went berserk—the teacher, already marked for disposal, had dragged him out through a hidden exit.
But…
He knew.
He'd never truly left.
Spend two hours in certain areas of that school, and it brands you. No matter where you go, you always return.
Even now, with the school in ruins—even with no one left to drag him back—Hirano dreamed of it every night.
Of being that powerless boy again.
Of watching his family tortured.
Of the day the school became hell itself.
Years passed.
He grew up.
But the nightmares never stopped.
Unlike his teacher—who chose isolation—Hirano refused to hide.
He became a cop.
Helped those who couldn't help themselves.
Smiled. Moved forward.
By all appearances, he'd shed his past.
Until…
[Idol Alice] surfaced.
A national sensation. A girl who'd ensnared everyone—from civilians to the prime minister.
No matter how blatant her crimes, no matter how much evidence piled up—no one listened to the victims.
Hirano knew why.
He'd lived it.
That thing's power—its ability to warp minds—was something he understood too well.
But now?
He was immune.
A year under Alice's influence had hardened him. Years of growth had fortified his mind.
If anyone could end her, it was him.
But did he have the courage?
The nightmares returned. The fear crept back.
Yet—
He acted.
The Plan:
Scout the concert venue. Memorize exits.
Copy keys to emergency doors.
Stash ammunition backstage.
Hide a modified motorcycle nearby.
Pose as a fan with front-row tickets.
Drug nearby "fans," steal their passes.
Enter. Wait.
When Alice stepped into range—
Fire.
Not once. Multiple shots.
Then—escape through the chaos.
He'd expected Alice to have contingencies.
So that night, he waited—on the rooftop opposite Fujika's ruins.
When the brainwashed fans carried her corpse back to the school…
He followed.
The fans? Already lost. He felt nothing putting them down.
Alice? He'd expected to die with her.
But somehow…
He walked out alive.
And Alice never returned.
A hero's tale should've ended there.
But if it had, Takakai wouldn't be seeing what came next.
Hirano was arrested.
Over thirty fans dead. Alice's body missing.
The interrogations were brutal—but compared to Fujika, they were nothing. He revealed nothing.
But that wasn't the real issue.
In the courtroom, in chains—what Hirano noticed was:
[Alice's influence had faded.]
For most people, prolonged exposure was needed for irreversible damage. Newspapers, videos—these caused minor distortions. And with Alice dead, even those weakened.
The judge? The jury?
They were lucid.
The fanatics remained lost, but the rest?
They knew.
Yet—
He was still guilty.
Not for the fans he'd killed.
For killing Alice.
The victims? Their families?
Even with Alice gone, justice never came.
Why?
The answer came when he "woke up" in a hospital.
Fujii Hiroshi stood over him—alongside men in suits.
With Alice gone, the experiments had restarted.
Funded. Sanctioned.
The victims? Erased.
Those who'd lost loved ones? Hunted. Some died. Others were dragged into asylums—only to vanish.
Nothing had changed.
He'd stopped a catastrophe—only for the cycle to repeat.
Was I wrong?
Did I make things worse?
More will suffer. And this time…
There's no teacher to save them.
The flames rose.
His final act.
Yet—
The silent ones remained.
Unharmed. Watching.
He didn't blame them. At the trial, they'd suffered too.
But seeing them…
He hesitated.
Did I really help them?
Or did I just make it worse?
Was I…
…wrong?
Takakai exhaled, eyes still closed.
[What's your investigation's status?]
Maki's voice echoed in his mind.
[Most pieces are in place. I know how to destroy this zone now.]
His tone was unreadable.
[How?]
[Give them justice. Force the world to acknowledge the truth.]
[Flip this dungeon's narrative. Let the victims' voices drown out everything else.]
[Only then… will the damned truly fall.]
As he spoke, Takakai opened his eyes—
—and met the gaze of the girl sitting atop the judge's bench.
Golden hair. Unearthly beauty. A smile dripping with malice.
She swung her legs playfully, then grinned.
[Miss me, Sensei?]