At this moment, Seijirou and Rindou stood in front of his house. The police car used to drive them already driving away behind them.
The suburban silence of the neighborhood felt eerily disconnected from the world they had just left behind—a world of charred concrete and hidden mass graves.
The lights of the house cast a yellow, sickly glow over them, highlighting the grime and the haunted exhaustion etched into their features.
Haoran opened the door with a heavy click, the familiar scent of home fighting a losing battle against the miasma that clung to their skin.
"I'm home," he called out, his voice sounding hollow and metallic.
"Welcome back, Seijirou-sama... ah, Rindou-san as well." Yuko, who had been sitting on the sofa watching a late-night variety show, immediately stood up upon seeing them arrive.
