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Jesse stared at Aaron—and then she saw it. A faint status line flickered into view before her eyes: "Drowning – 24%."
Without hesitation, she surged forward, grabbing him and trying to keep his head above the surface. Thanks to Aaron's raw physical strength—even in his weakened state—he thrashed an arm, pulling both of them toward Helen's rotting wooden boat.
A veil of salty mist drifted past, threading through the damp cracks of the old planks. On the boat's soaked floor, the teacher's body lay motionless.
Seawater had soaked into every strand of her hair, seeped into every crack of her skin. After thirty minutes in the ocean, her flesh turned ghostly pale, blotched with blistered patches. Her skin, stretched tight by the brine, had begun to bubble into sacs of fluid—ready to burst at the slightest touch.
The wound in her chest was still there—the spear impaled straight through the sternum, now bleached white by the salt.
Yellowish fluid oozed from the puncture, mingling with the ripple of the waves. Around her mouth, lips had turned a deep, almost royal purple. An acrid scent began to rise—one born from old blood, sea salt, and decaying human flesh.
Her skin now resembled wax—pale and unreal—covered in bloated sacs of water that trembled with every wave. Light filtering through the mist gave the illusion of breath, making her corpse look... almost asleep.
"She's still alive… If I just touch her, just say her name, she'll wake up…"
Helen clutched the cold body tighter. The scent—part blood, part salt, part death—curled into her lungs like cursed incense. It wasn't just the stench of rot—it was an indictment. A testament to her helplessness.
"It's my fault… If only I were faster… stronger… if I had the courage to tell Sacium… If…"
The voice in her head splintered into a thousand accusations. One part whispered the teacher still lived. The other howled:
"She's dead! She died because of YOU!"
"If I died too… would that be enough to be forgiven?"
"Or does she hate me now, deep into her bones—even though there's no life left to feel it?"
The corpse said nothing. But its silence weighed more than any scream. Her shut eyes pierced Helen's mind with an absence louder than words.
Helen: "It… it smells so awful…"
"Am I really this useless?"
"I couldn't do anything… couldn't save her, couldn't speak to Sacium… I'm a coward, useless, worthless, WORTHLESS!!"
Jesse saw it all. She didn't need words—Helen's eyes were already screaming a world of despair. She stepped forward and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
Jesse: "Hey… stop blaming yourself. If you really want to help, come with me. Aaron almost drowned. Do you know CPR?"
Helen looked up, tears still clinging to her lashes.
Helen: "I… I don't know... but I can try…"
She staggered toward Aaron, trying to recall what Sacium had done—chest compressions, mouth-to-mouth—but her hands trembled, pushing at the wrong spot.
Aaron jolted upright, coughing violently, water spilling from his lungs like a bursting dam.
Aaron: "Wh… what the hell just happened…?"
Jesse: "You almost drowned, that's what."
Aaron: "Ugh… what's that smell?"
He turned toward the corpse—just as Ryan climbed up the boat's edge, drenched, hauling a bundle of ropes.
Ryan: "Why does the boat feel so… heavy?"
Without a word, Aaron grabbed the body and unceremoniously tossed it into the sea.
Splash.
Helen froze, her eyes wide in disbelief. Then, she lunged for the rail.
Ryan caught her hand just in time.
Ryan: "Let her go, Helen. We can't—"
Helen: "I CAN'T LEAVE HER! SHE DIED FOR ME!"
Ryan: "She's gone… don't let her death be meaningless."
Aaron: "He's right. Wake up already! You're letting your emotions run wild."
Helen collapsed, letting Ryan pull her back. She sobbed into his chest, breaking.
Just then, Rose's boat glided by, stopping alongside them. Rose stepped onto their deck, elegantly pulling the spear from the floating corpse.
Rose: "A spear this fine—you weren't planning on wasting it, were you~?"
Aaron snatched it back with a scowl. He and Jesse jumped onto Rose's boat.
Aaron: "Ryan! You planning to sit there all day? We're not safe yet."
Ryan clenched his fists. He knew—if Helen was to survive, he had to sever her from the grief.
Ryan: "Helen… don't let her death be for nothing. Live—for her."
He stood, pointing toward the door at the end of the watery hall. The group moved cautiously, stepping across the calm surface.
Only ten meters from the door, tiny heads began to surface—silent, unmoving.
They just… watched.
Ryan furrowed his brow. A cold unease curled up his spine.
"Too quiet. That's never a good thing."
But it was the only way forward.
He reached for the door. Nothing happened. One by one, the group crossed through and vanished.
- Level 9 -
They awoke in a crumbling old room. No waves. No creatures. No sea.
The most terrifying moment is when there's nothing left to fear.
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