It was still the hour when the darkness of night clung to the corners of the room. Ellie woke to the sound of her own scream. The remnants of that shriek were lodged deep in her throat. Her heart pounded like a drum behind her ears, and her pajamas clung to her back, soaked with sweat. (A dream...) She tried to tell herself that. But it wasn't true. It wasn't a dream. How she wished it had been. The musty air of the gym storage shed, the flickering sound of the broken fluorescent light, and—the memory of that bitter taste still lingering in her mouth. Her stomach clenched violently. Ellie practically tumbled out of bed, crawled into the hallway, and rushed to the bathroom. She clung to the toilet and retched up stomach acid. The sour liquid burned her throat. Tears welled up unbidden, blurring her vision. "...Ugh... ah..." A voiceless sound escaped her. The coldness of the tiles seeped into her knees. She had locked the stall door—but there was no escaping reality. She stayed like that for a while. Even after the nausea subsided, she couldn't move. She sat slumped against the wall. Outside the window, the sun was beginning to rise over the hilly terrain of Sakuradai City. She could hear birds singing. The world was moving on as it always did. As if something inside her own body alone had been decisively broken. As she fastened the buttons of her uniform blouse, she looked into the bathroom mirror. The face reflected there didn't look like the person she had been up until yesterday. Her deep brown eyes were sunken, faint blue shadows forming beneath them. On her neck, a faint redness remained, as if someone had bitten her yesterday. When she touched it with her finger, there was a dull pain. It had been real. All of it had been real. When she went to the kitchen, her mother, Taeko, was already getting ready for work. The sound of the microwave, the steam from a spray-type iron. A single slice of bread sat on the table, devoid of any emotion. That was all. No fried egg, not a single word. Taeko's eyes were fixed on her smartphone. She was checking some kind of work correspondence. Only her fingers moved busily. Even when Ellie sat down in a chair, she didn't look up. "[whispers]...Today, I'm feeling a little... unwell." She forced the words out. She just wanted—even a little—for someone to listen. Taeko didn't raise her eyes from the smartphone. She merely twisted the corner of her lips in a sneer. "[cold]We just moved here this month, and you're already planning to skip school?" Her voice held absolutely no warmth of concern for her daughter. There was only irritation, as if Ellie was about to cause trouble again. Ellie gripped the hem of her skirt tightly. Her nails dug into her palms. Her third transfer. Her mother was always like this. She understood she was busy with work. She knew she had to work late to earn a living. But—the words she truly wanted to hear weren't those kinds of explanations. "...Yes, I'm sorry." In the end, those were the only words she could say. Ellie had long since given up on trying to convey anything more. The morning bus flowed through the usual scenery. It passed through the residential areas of northern Sakuradai City's hilly terrain, running between low thickets of trees. The bus was crowded with students from Seigetsukan Private High School. Laughter, fingers operating smartphones, music leaking from someone's earphones. Ellie sat by the window, looking outside. Her own face reflected in the glass looked somehow like a stranger. Her stomach still ached with a clenching tightness. (*I look forward to tomorrow, too.*) The message she had received from Mio yesterday surfaced in her mind. She opened her screen. The history was already gone. Not even a trace remained. But the words were burned into her head and wouldn't leave. (*I can't escape.*) The bus arrived at the stop nearest the school, and students began to disembark. Ellie stood up too. She didn't really know if she was moving her legs by her own will, or if she was just being swept along. First period was math. Second period was modern Japanese literature. The sunlight outside was bright, and from the classroom window, she could see the cherry blossoms in the courtyard. The spring breeze swayed the curtains. The teacher's voice was distant, and the writing on the blackboard looked like nothing but lines. That was when it happened. Inside her pocket, her smartphone gave a short buzz. It wasn't a notification. It was a finer vibration, almost like the hum of an insect's wings. This sensation was new to her. Ellie felt as if her heart had stopped for a moment. Taking advantage of the teacher facing the blackboard, she checked the screen under her desk. What was displayed on the lock screen was a notification she had never seen before. There was no app icon. Just white text floating up. *'3F East Girls' Bathroom. Break time. Be punctual. You'll regret it if you're late. Mio'* She bit down hard on the inside of her lip. The taste of iron spread slowly. Her hands trembled. Her fingertips grew cold. (*I don't want to go.*) Every cell in her body refused. The events in the storage shed yesterday flashed back vividly—her pinned wrists, her mouth forced open, the feeling of the cold tiles. But. (*If I don't go, something even worse will happen.*) That intuition alone was stronger than anything else. Mio's cold, beautiful smile. Defying her was tantamount to giving up on surviving in this school altogether. And—on a deeper level, Ellie already understood. A summons from the Cradle wasn't optional. This was "compulsion." She had never been given a choice from the start. The chime rang. The clamor of break time spread through the classroom. Ellie felt as if she was watching her own body stand up from somewhere far away. Her legs moved on their own. She passed through the classroom door and out into the hallway. The stairs leading to the third floor. Each step felt strangely heavy. The palm gripping the handrail was clammy with sweat. The East Girls' Bathroom was a place not often used. Its entrance was tucked quietly in a corner deep in the hallway. Other students were sparse, and their laughter was distant. She stood before the stall door. She placed her hand on it. She breathed in, and out. She opened it. —The next instant, someone's hand grabbed her shoulder from behind and pulled her back forcefully. She lost her balance, her vision swimming. Her body was yanked hard and thrown into the accessible restroom stall at the back. The sound of the door closing. The lock clicking shut. "[cold]Good job not being late." The person there was Sakuraba Rina. Her bob cut, reaching her shoulders, was damp and clung to her forehead. Her upturned gray eyes held no emotion, as always. Behind her, in the cramped space, five female students in volleyball club uniforms stood leaning against the wall. The smell of sweat mixed with antiperspirant spray filled the air. Their flushed cheeks, the sweat stains on their uniforms, their rough breathing—it was obvious at a glance that they had just finished club training. All of them were looking at Ellie. Not with curiosity, nor hostility. It was a look as if they were observing one of today's practice drills. "[cold]We don't have much time, so let's hurry." At Rina's chin-jerk signal, two of the female students moved. With practiced motions, they grabbed Ellie by both shoulders and forced her to the floor. Her knees slammed against the cold tiles, a sharp pain shooting through them. Even as she tried to resist, the force pinning her shoulders was as strong as a vise. The female students formed a rotation as if they had arranged it beforehand. One stood in front of Ellie while the others leaned against the wall, waiting their turn. Some were fiddling with their smartphones. Another was drinking water from a plastic bottle. (*Six people...*) Ellie unconsciously counted their number. Then she recalled the classroom clock. Break time was ten minutes. This many people, in this short amount of time—. Despair sank to the pit of her stomach. The Cradle wasn't just a group that committed assault. The time, the number of people—everything was calculated. By processing Ellie without giving her a moment to breathe, pushing her to her mental limit—that was their method. The first female student wordlessly grabbed Ellie's hair. Her fingers dug into her scalp. She said nothing. She simply demanded with her movements alone. The use of Ellie's mouth. (*I know...*) Yesterday's experience had seeped into her body as a dull certainty. Resistance was futile. If so, then at least—on her own accord. Ellie closed her eyes. Behind her eyelids, she heard the sound of something snapping. She opened her mouth. She opened it herself. In that moment, her will bent to the Cradle's demands for the first time. The first female student's penis—no, her sweaty genitals were pushed into Ellie's mouth. The taste of salt mixed with the lingering scent of antiperspirant spray spread across her tongue. The female student began to move her hips. The rhythm was steady, devoid of emotion. Just mechanical. Saliva spilled from the corner of Ellie's mouth, trailing down her chin and onto her uniform. She couldn't breathe. She tried to breathe through her nose, but the female student's lower abdomen was pressed against her face, and there wasn't enough air. As soon as the first one finished, the second swapped in without pause. Ellie had no time to catch her breath. This time it was pushed in deeper, to the back of her throat. A wave of nausea rose, and her throat muscles spasmed involuntarily. The third one straddled Ellie's face. The insides of her thighs blocked Ellie's nose and mouth, cutting off her oxygen. At the same time, another female student began to toy with Ellie's body from behind. Her skirt was flipped up, her underwear pulled down. Fingers intruded unceremoniously into her vagina, and the wet, squelching sound echoed in the cramped stall. (*Ah, ah...*) Even as she tried to voice it, her mouth remained blocked. Her head spun. Her consciousness faded little by little. Even so, her body alone reacted on its own. Each time her vagina was stirred, her hips twitched slightly. It didn't feel like her own body. The female students didn't speak to each other. They didn't even laugh. They just proceeded efficiently, as if completing a class schedule. Only Rina, who had been leaning against the wall, glanced at her wristwatch, then stepped forward. She crouched down and placed cold fingers on Ellie's chin. Rina's fingers were cool. Her gray eyes held neither anger nor amusement, as if she was merely checking the progress of a task. "[cold]Much better than yesterday." Her tone was as if she was coaching someone's form in club activities. "[cold]But the angle of your neck is still stiff. You need to relax more next time, or you'll hurt your throat." Those words gouged out something deep inside Ellie. (*She's coaching me...*) She was being forced into the act, yet she was being graded on its quality. Being asked to improve. Which meant—she was playing an active role in this act? It was as if she had chosen this herself and was trying to get better at it. Her head spun. The boundary between what was her own will and what was being forced upon her was growing blurry. The fourth and fifth ones moved simultaneously. One used Ellie's mouth, the other used her vagina from behind. Assaulted from front and back at the same time, Ellie's vision went white and hazy. A lukewarm liquid trickled down her thighs. She no longer knew if it was her own fluids or something else. "[cold]You're doing well." Rina stood up and leaned against the wall again, folding her arms. The sixth one grabbed Ellie's hair and forcibly pulled her face up. The final touch. Something lukewarm spread inside her mouth. The female student, seemingly satisfied, let o