Arthur settled everyone in quickly, harshly, and without discussion. He walked through the house only once — from the damp basement to the dusty attic — and made his decisions in just a few minutes.
The first floor went unconditionally to the men. Hirano, Fujimoto, and Tanaka — three rooms, three beds, everything dry, simple, and without unnecessary pretension.
The second floor went to the girls. Four rooms for twenty-three people. Arthur opened the doors, lingered his gaze on the layout, gave a barely noticeable nod, and distributed the spaces exactly as he saw fit. No voting. No concessions.
The first room turned out to be the largest, a corner room with two wide windows overlooking the coast. Two beds pushed tightly together and a wide sofa against the wall. This is where he sent the Nakano quintuplets.
Yotsuba immediately ran to the glass, pressing her palms against it, her green bunny-ear ribbon swaying playfully.
"Wow! Look, the sea! It's alive and real!" she announced enthusiastically, for a moment forgetting all the nightmare they had experienced.
"We can see that perfectly well without your shouting, Yotsuba," Nino grimaced displeasedly, nervously adjusting the butterfly hairpins in her hair and looking warily at the cramped room. "You'd better think about how we're all going to fit in here."
"Well, I just decided to cheer everyone up..." the fourth sister muttered more quietly.
"We understand, thank you," Ichika interrupted them softly. She was already inspecting the old wardrobe with lazy grace, wondering if she could hide the sticky fear of their new guide behind her usual "big sister" mask.
Miku, without uttering a word, found the darkest corner by the wall. Lowering her headphones to her neck, she settled right on the floor, hugging her knees — quietly, almost invisibly, as if trying to blend into the shadows and hide her insecurity. Itsuki was the last to approach the vacant bed, carefully put her things down, took her glasses out of their case, methodically wiped the lenses with the edge of her blouse, and only then looked strictly around, trying to maintain the appearance of an exemplary and sensible student.
"The conditions, of course, are far from ideal," Itsuki noted politely but preachy, smoothing her stray ahoge. "But complaining in our situation would be extremely unwise."
The second room was smaller, with one narrow window. Here, Arthur placed Rei, Saeko, and Mens.
Rei dropped her backpack at the foot of the bed and immediately went to the window. She stood motionless, staring into the darkening water — for a long time, silently, with a complex expression on her face, in which stubbornness desperately fought against welling tears. The world was collapsing too fast, and her fragile concept of "normalcy" was cracking at the seams.
Saeko chose a bed against the opposite wall. She carefully placed her bokken on the bedside table, smoothed the hem of her skirt, and sat down — perfectly straight, with that flawless bushi posture that never left her, even in moments of calm.
"A clean bed and a roof over our heads is already a generous gift at a time like this, Rei," Saeko said in a low, deep voice, and her calm, deep tone dissolved the hanging tension a bit.
Mens inspected the room with the methodical, chilling attention with which she evaluated any new space — entrances, exits, firing angles, and wall thickness. Seven years at the head of a cult had taught her to look for traps everywhere. Finally, she chose a spot right by the door and sat on the floor, crossing her legs. Her pale face remained completely expressionless.
"The place is chosen correctly," the priestess muttered coldly and aloofly, staring into the void. "Here, the Master's breath feels closest. It cleanses this rotten air."
The third room accommodated Saya Takagi, Marin Kitagawa, Shizuka Marikawa, Hana, and Tsuki Uzaki.
Takagi immediately, like a master of the house, took the only desk by the window. She pulled out a notebook, a stub of a pencil, adjusted her glasses, and settled down with the air of someone whose personal strategic headquarters this was. It was vital for her to load her brilliant brain with calculations so as not to give in to panic.
Marin sank onto the edge of the bed and sat completely motionless for a while. Her bright pink lenses gleamed dully in the twilight. She was without things, without her usual gyaru energy, just staring at a single point on the floor. In her head, Arthur's chilling, honest voice still echoed: "Yes, I killed him." The death of Wakana, her kind, pure friend, just didn't fit in her head, and the terrifying strength of the killer disoriented her until her fingers trembled.
Shizuka came in last, stopped at the threshold, and looked around in confusion, tugging at the edge of her torn lab coat, which could barely contain her hyper-plump breasts.
"Oh, girls..." the nurse drawled sleepily and a bit fearfully, clutching her medical bag to her chest. "Are we absolutely safe here? It's so dark outside, and those horrible sounds... I feel completely uneasy without a sedative."
Tsuki Uzaki, pale, with her eyes tightly closed, immediately lay down on the sofa, pulling her apron to her chest. In the years of loneliness after her husband's betrayal, she had forgotten how to trust men, but Arthur's masterful, unyielding aura awakened a whole vortex of exciting and frightening fantasies in her suspicious soul, making her flush hot.
"My goodness..." Tsuki whispered softly, hiding her face in her hands. "What a crushing, terrifying power this young man has. What will become of us in such cramped quarters..."
Her daughter, Hana Uzaki, looked at her mother, then at the quiet Marin, frowned, and crossed her arms over her T-shirt that read "Sugoi Dekai". Her usual playful fang now protruded defiantly.
"Stop being so gloomy!" Hana declared loudly, though with a slight hoarseness from anxiety, sitting down next to her mother. "That grumpy snake thinks he can just lock us up here and boss us around? Just you wait, I'll shake all that arrogance out of him real quick, just let him try to come near!" But, remembering Arthur's heavy, evaluating gaze, she immediately blushed deeply and buried her nose in a pillow.
The fourth room turned out to be the most overcrowded. Ayane and Kotone Shirakawa, Yuria, Anna, and Rina Komiya, Hana Mitsui, Yui, Megumi, Hinata, Ono Shiori. Ten people in a space designed for four at most.
Yuria Komiya inspected the room with that calm, practical efficiency that never left her, even after the collapse of the old world. She immediately began organizing their daily life: she pushed two beds tightly together, found extra dusty blankets in the depths of the built-in wardrobe, and deftly spread them right on the floor.
"Alright, girls, don't panic," Yuria commanded softly but confidently, straightening her tight house dress. "Space is tight, but we'll manage. Whoever wants a bed — settle on top. Whoever is younger and stronger — we lie on the floor. The main thing is to stick together."
"I just want to go home! To my room!" Rina Komiya snapped petulantly, angrily throwing her school bag into the corner. Her gyaru-tsundere mask barely hid an inner tremor: Arthur hadn't paid attention to her striking looks even once the entire day, and this complete ignoring stirred her in a strange, masochistic way. "Why do we have to listen to this brute?!"
"I know, sweetie, I know," Yuria sighed soothingly, gently pressing her youngest daughter to herself. "Lie down, get some rest."
Meanwhile, Ayane Shirakawa approached the door and nervously rattled the handle several times, checking the old lock. Angry tics flashed across her face every now and then.
"The lock is completely useless, just a piece of rust!" she snapped irritably, fixing her high brown ponytail and trying to look like a mature and independent big sister. "If that lunatic decides to walk in without knocking, we won't even be able to do anything! Ignorant idiot..."
"Come on, Ayane-chan, don't boil over," Kotone Shirakawa's quiet, lazy voice came. The younger sister was already cozily lying on the floor, wrapped in a blanket up to her nose. Brown eyes gleamed from under her short black bangs, and a mysterious, devilish smile played on her lips. "In my opinion, our new leader is very interesting. And he won't need a lock if he wants to come in."
Hana Mitsui found the furthest spot by the wall, away from the hustle and bustle. Her huge chest heaved heavily under her stretched blouse. She sat, clutching her knees, and her large purple eyes stared detachedly into nowhere. In her empty, naive head, the line between horror and reality had completely blurred: her broken psyche had locked onto Arthur, forcing her to see in the killer of her brother a new, powerful "big bro" to cling to for safety.
Yui, looking around timidly, immediately tugged at the edge of Megumi's blanket.
"M-Megumi-chan... want to share a spot on the floor? It's warmer together," she offered quietly, accustomed to yielding to stronger personalities in everything.
Megumi blushed deeply to the very tips of her ears, her thick eyebrows jumping up in fright.
"Yes... of course, Yui-chan," the tall osanajimi replied politely and with a trembling voice, sitting down next to her. Her fleshy, voluptuous body literally shrank from embarrassment. "This... this is so wrong, everything that's happening... But I simply couldn't say no to Arthur-san. He has such a terrifying voice."
Hinata chose a narrow corner by the window itself. She settled there with that cold, pragmatic calmness that replaced her emotions.
"The main thing is that there are walls and a roof here," she said evenly, crossing her legs. "As long as Arthur considers us useful cargo, we are safe. It's pure calculation, nothing personal."
Ono Shiori found a small gap between the wardrobe and the wall. Tucking her legs under her, she opened a book that had miraculously survived, trying to hide her burning face behind the pages.
"Yes..." the librarian whispered barely audibly, timid from the mere memory of their leader's harsh tone. "He is so strict... But when he commands, it feels like no one in the world can harm us."
Anna Komiya looked at this chaotic intertwining of female bodies, mentally assessing the level of discomfort, and carefully lowered herself onto the very edge of the bed. Straightening her strict skirt, she froze, trying not to occupy a single extra centimeter. Her perfectionism suffered from this crampedness, but inside, under the mask of a cold honor student, a wild, forbidden relief was ripening: this frightening man had taken away her control, and she no longer had to pretend to be perfect.
Arthur climbed up to his attic.
Veridis, with all the desire in the world, would not fit into the narrow living space of the house. For her, he chose a spacious, dry garage with wide wooden gates, where a strong smell of old straw and musty hay from long-ago household needs still lingered. Tossing clean straw and thick burlap onto the floor, Arthur turned to the dragon.
The dragon carefully inspected the beams, loudly sniffed the cool sea air penetrating through the cracks, and obediently went inside. Heavily lying down on the bedding, she settled her massive horned head on her front paws and froze, looking loyally at her rider with huge vertical pupils.
"Stay close," he threw shortly, patting her hard scales near her nostrils. "I'll be right above you, in the attic. Any rustle — raise the alarm."
The dragon quietly closed her massive eyelids, emitting a deep, vibrating throat sound, like a well-fed purr. Arthur locked the gates with a heavy bolt and climbed up the outer stairs.
First Floor. Men.
Hirano lay on a hard mattress, hands behind his head, gloomily contemplating the ceiling boards darkened by dampness.
Fujimoto sat on a stool by the window — straight, stern, with that unyielding expression on his face that belongs to people accustomed to commanding for years and who do not intend to surrender their positions just because the old world died.
Tanaka stood motionless against the wall, half hidden by shadow. He generally spoke rarely, but always listened with the precision of a hunting dog.
"We need to talk," Fujimoto broke the silence, without turning around. His voice sounded hollow.
"About our 'commander,'" Hirano responded, more affirmatively than questioningly.
"Yes. About him."
"I'm listening, Fujimoto-san."
The old man slowly turned his head, and his eyes flashed angrily in the gloom.
"Yuuichi. Now this guy, Gojo. Both were healthy, strong men. Both went on watch. Both revolved around him. And where are they now?" He articulated the words as if driving nails. "Takagi sees the same thing. I spoke with her before bed. Her girlish brain understands this."
"And what did Takagi say?"
"Says we have no direct clues. No proof."
"And there won't be," Hirano didn't even stir. "He doesn't leave traces."
"Or we are dealing with a cold-blooded monster that gets rid of anyone who might show character," Fujimoto cut off harshly.
Hirano finally turned his head and looked intently at the old man.
"Fujimoto-san. I was at that gas station. I saw how he moves. Saw how he fed those bastards to his beast without even blinking. I perfectly understand what you are talking about. He is dangerous. Perhaps more dangerous than all the zombies combined."
"Then why are you silent?! Why do you let him lead us like cattle to the slaughter?"
"Because he is the only one who has a map," Hirano sat up sharply on the bed, and his voice became hard. "He is the only one who hasn't made a mistake once. The only one who returned for us to the school, though he could have easily flown away on his dragon. You want to get rid of him? Fine. Let's say we shoot him at night. Who will take his place? You? Me? Tanaka-san? We'll drop dead after three kilometers because we have no idea what is happening to this world. To get rid of Arthur now is to commit suicide."
Fujimoto was silent for a long and heavy time, his fingers convulsively gripping his knees.
"So, you are ready to close your eyes to murder? You are on his side."
"I am on the side of my life," Hirano cut off, falling back onto the pillow. "As long as his goals coincide with my survival — I follow his orders."
"And when they stop coinciding?"
Hirano closed his eyes and turned to the wall.
"Then we'll talk. If we survive."
The old man rose from the stool — slowly, with all that ossified dignity that old masters do not lose even during the apocalypse. He headed for the exit.
"You are a smart boy, Hirano," he threw over his shoulder, already taking the doorknob. "But smart boys sometimes wait too long for the perfect moment, and wake up with their throats already cut."
The door clicked shut quietly.
Tanaka stirred in the corner, his silhouette separating from the wall.
"The old man is right after all, Hirano," he said softly. "He sees the essence."
"I know."
"But you are right too," Tanaka added, heading to his bed. "And that's the worst part of it."
Hirano was left alone. It was quiet outside the walls of the house, only the night sea rustled measurably and heavily near the shore. He thought about the gas station. About Arthur's icy gaze. About the mangled bodies. He kept silent before Fujimoto not out of cowardice. It's just that in this new, insane chapter of history, some things really are better known and kept to oneself than shouted about on every corner, bringing one's end closer.
Second Floor. Girls.
The door to the first room turned out to be slightly ajar — Yotsuba left a gap, and half an hour later the others began to gradually, stealthily gather there. Loneliness and fear drove them from their corners. People who had survived a bloodbath together had forgotten how to sleep apart.
In the end, more than half of the cast crowded into the Nakano quintuplets' spacious room. Some sat on the pushed-together mattresses, some settled right on the carpet, pressed shoulder to shoulder, some propped their backs against the wall near the entrance.
"He knew, didn't he?" Yotsuba was the first to break the silence, looking at the ceiling. "Shizuka-san said that this house belongs to her friend Rika. Only a few knew the address. And Arthur just commanded us to fly here. As if he has a compass in his head."
"He doesn't have a compass in his head, but a clear algorithm," responded Saya Takagi from her place at the desk, nervously biting the tip of her pencil. "He sees right through this world. As if he has a script according to which we all move here, and we are just extras."
"Stop it, Saya, that sounds absolutely disgusting," Nino shuddered, wrapping herself tighter in a blanket. "It gives me goosebumps."
"Disgusting or not, it's a fact," Takagi snapped.
Shizuka, sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, sighed softly, rubbing her stiff neck.
"Girls, Saya is right... Rika never posted the coordinates online, she is a terrible paranoid. Arthur didn't ask me once during the whole trip. He just dropped us off in the yard. And the house was absolutely clean. No zombies, no marauders. He knew it was empty."
"Yui-chan..." Megumi whispered quietly, pressing closer to her friend. "Don't you think... that he knows everything about us anyway? When he called my name at the gas station, my heart dropped into my boots. I hadn't introduced myself to him."
"He is dangerous..." Yui replied just as quietly, hugging her knees. "But when he is around, I feel protected. As if under a huge shield. Don't you all feel it?"
Marin Kitagawa, sitting by the second window, turned her head to the others. Her beautiful eyes without lenses looked tearful and unusually defenseless.
"He knew about Gojo-kun..." she said hollowly, and her voice broke. "He knew what his name was, what he did. Before I even opened my mouth. And when I asked him... he simply replied: "Yes, I killed him." So calmly. Without anger, without pity. As if he was... just a weed on the road." She covered her face with her hands, stifling sobs.
A heavy, ringing silence hung in the room. Each digested these words in her own way.
"He knew our names before we met?" Yotsuba asked again with a kind of childish fright.
"It seems so," Ichika confirmed grimly, and on her usually playful face, a dark, calculating mask of the eldest twin appeared for a moment. "He sees us like open books."
"So what?" Hinata suddenly spoke from her dark corner. Her pragmatic tone acted on everyone like a cold shower. "Yes, he is secretive. Yes, he is harsh. But during the whole time, he hasn't made a mistake once. The blinds at school, the gas station, this house — everything he said came true. He is strong. Stronger than anyone we know. And he, at least, doesn't pretend to be a noble knight like the boys at school did. He just pulls our asses out of the dirt. That's more honest than all your past 'normal' life."
"But he fed those tied-up people at the gas station to his dragon!" Ono Shiori gasped out fearfully, pulling her head into her plump shoulders. "That's... that's pure cruelty!"
"Those people were scum and rapists, Ono-san," Saeko Busujima cut her off in an icy tone, smoothly rising from her place against the wall. Her long purple hair swayed along her hips. "Arthur acts without theatrical gestures and extra words. There is a task — there is a solution. He removed the threat in the most effective way. I understand his language. And, I admit, this language is close to me."
"Ichika-nee... I'm scared," Miku Nakano whispered barely audibly, squeezing the headphones around her neck tighter. "But... when I look at him, it seems to me that he is very lonely. Not mean, but just... accustomed to being completely alone in the whole universe. As if he long ago forgot how to expect anything good from people."
"Lone wolves bite the hardest, Miku," Nino responded quietly, though there was no longer her former anger in her voice.
Rina Komiya, who until then had been lying on her side and demonstratively ignoring the conversation, sharply flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
"He pisses me off!" the younger sister hissed angrily, clenching her fists. "His look from above pisses me off! As if we are all just things in his pocket. Looks and already knows what I'll say or do. I can't stand him!"
"Rina, stop it," her older sister Anna Komiya cut her off strictly, adjusting her collar. "Arthur is a dangerous man, no doubt. But he doesn't lie about who he is. In this world of fake values, his chilling honesty is a rarity. And I value this rarity."
Yuria Komiya, sitting next to her daughters, slowly nodded, confirming the words of the eldest.
"When he enters the room, everything inside me freezes. It's illogical, stupid... but the fear disappears. Only submission remains. With him, we will survive."
Ayane Shirakawa, standing by the door jamb, crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide how much her shoulders were shaking.
"In battle, he always covers the flanks," she muttered through her teeth in a low voice, averting her eyes. "I watched him. He never leaves an open space if one of ours is nearby. Of... the girls. Arrogant idiot, but he knows his business."
Kotone Shirakawa, sitting at her feet, chuckled quietly, rubbing her cheek against the fluffy blanket.
"Ours... What a good word, Ayane-chan. In my opinion, our master is simply collecting a collection of rare butterflies. And rare things, as everyone knows, are very well taken care of. They aren't thrown away or broken without need. That should be reassuring."
"Reassuring?" Rei Miyamoto smiled bitterly, hugging her knees tighter. "He looks at us like trophies. He doesn't know how to love, Kotone. He collects strength, loyalty, and... us."
"But rare things really are protected, Rei," Tsuki Uzaki repeated softly, opening her slightly squinted blue eyes. Her voice trembled with suppressed emotions. "A lonely woman knows all too well what it's like to be discarded and forgotten. Arthur doesn't look like someone who throws away his property."
Hana Uzaki tossed her chin up triumphantly, though her cheeks were still burning with a flush.
"Exactly! Just let him try to lose us! We'll make his life so interesting that he won't be happy himself! Do you hear, Marin? We'll break through!"
Marin Kitagawa slowly raised her head, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. In her eyes, devoid of their gyaru gleam, the distant light of the stars was reflected.
"Yes..." she said quietly but firmly. "We'll break through. Gojo-kun would want me to live. And if for the sake of that I need to submit to a monster... I will submit."
Hana Mitsui by the wall started upon hearing this, and her purple eyes cleared for a moment.
"Big bro... I mean Arthur-sama... he returned for us. Two times. From the school and from that store. Could he have abandoned foolish Hana? He could have. But he returned. He is good. My new big brother."
"He returned," Saya Takagi sighed quietly, closing her notebook. "And that is the only thing that matters right now. All his sins won't outweigh the fact that without him, we would have rotted on the very first day."
Mens Sanguinea, who until then had been sitting motionless like a wax figure right at the entrance, slowly rose. Her uncanny, detached gaze slid over the faces of the crying, arguing, and frightened girls.
"You argue about the will of a God like the blind about the sun," the former priestess said coldly. "My Master absorbed the Great Mind. His steps are the law. His decisions are the truth. Rejoice that He allows you to breathe the same air as Him. Soon you will all understand the happiness of absolute submission to His will."
From her monotonous, sepulchral voice, a tangible chill ran through the room. Even the prickly Nino found nothing to answer the fanatic.
Ichika Nakano smiled softly, defusing the atmosphere, though a deep anxiety for her sisters lurked in her eyes.
"Alright, my philosophers. Enough revelations for tonight. Everyone sleep. This is an order from the eldest sister."
One short word — and the heavy spell of the conversation was broken. The girls began to disperse to their rooms — quietly, without extra haste, carrying into the darkness each her own secret fears and ripening, frightening thoughts about their common Master.
Saya Takagi was the last to leave. She lingered for a second by the open window, peering into the boundless black sea and the clear sky, where for the first time in several days, through the shroud of fog, distant cold stars were timidly breaking through. She opened her notebook, quickly jotted down one short phrase with her pencil: "We willingly enter His cage, because outside is hell." She closed the notebook, clicked the lock, and left, plunging the room into complete darkness.
In the attic, Arthur lay on his back, hands under his head, contemplating the roughly hewn slanting beams of the roof.
From below, through the thin wooden floors of the old house, muffled, barely audible girls' voices reached him. They rustled like dry leaves in the wind — indistinctly, chaotically, but they were the voices of living people. Arthur didn't even try to listen to the words. He didn't care what they were arguing about, whom they were mourning, or what they were accusing him of. The main thing was — they were under control. They were distributed, fed, and locked in a safe perimeter.
Somewhere below, in the straw of the garage, Veridis breathed quietly and measurably, guarding the approaches.
Arthur closed his eyes, adjusting his inner focus to the shimmering structure of the portal in his memory. He thought of the Altar, of the nexus of worlds, of the next transition point. But somewhere on the very periphery of his cold, calculating mind, a strange, unfamiliar sensation was stirring. Over this whole time — from the blood-soaked roof of Fujimi Academy to this God-forsaken attic on the coast — something had subtly changed.
Not in his global plans. Not in the dry mathematical calculations of survival. Something completely different. Tiny, barely noticeable, like a green sprout breaking through an icy protein crust of fog — it just reached upward, toward warmth, without asking anyone's permission.
Outside the window, crashing against the coastal rocks, the eternal sea rustled heavily and measurably.