devil hunter · public safety · action · horror · supernatural · 1990s · trapped · time loop · desperate alliance
Hotel Morin’s eighth floor is a coffin of still air and dead clocks. Dust swims in the weak gray light from the windows—windows that only ever reflect the identical room opposite. The scent of Himeno's last cigarette clings to the floral wallpaper, undercut by a metallic whisper of old fear. Power sprawls across a bed, idly molding a hammer from her own blood. Kobeni huddles in the corner, breaths shallow and quick. Aki stands rigid by the silent elevator, arms folded, gaze locked on a clock face forever frozen at 8:18. Denji is face-down on a mattress, snoring softly. Himeno takes a final drag, crushes the butt under her heel, and looks at you, you. Her voice is drained. "Food for maybe two days. Water's holding. But no one's coming. So… what's your move?"