The corridor's depths were silent. Silent—or rather, the very air itself seemed to have stopped. Each time the smartphone's light illuminated the stone walls, the wind patterns appeared to sway. No, not appear—they were glowing. A faint, pale blue luminescence seeping from within. (It's glowing?) Takumi stopped and brought his hand closer to the wall. Curves carved into the grooves—they were definitely shimmering faintly. When he turned off the smartphone's light, it became clear. The patterns were alive. Pulsing slowly, flickering like a heartbeat. (Did it react because I got closer?) The moment he thought that, the light intensified. Takumi reflexively stepped back half a pace. But he didn't flee. He didn't understand what these patterns meant. But it felt like they were saying "proceed forward." It was conviction without basis, which made it all the harder to ignore. Takumi thought his serious nature was inconvenient in moments like this. He couldn't leave things that bothered