CHAPTER 1: WELCOME TO THE DINING HALL
The meat breathes. The seat bleeds. And the feast… begins.
I. The Awakening
Yuto Tanaka opened his eyes, and his first thought was "This isn't real."
But the floor beneath him squelched. Warm. Wet. Fleshy.
He looked down.
Veins. Pulsing. Under translucent skin. The floor wasn't a floor. It was meat — breathing,
twitching, bleeding.
He gagged, rolled over, and puked something yellow onto the floor. It hissed and sizzled like
acid, dissolving into the muscle-flesh.
Around him, others were waking up. Faces pale. Eyes wide. Everyone was covered in red slime
like they'd just been birthed from a dead thing.
Yuto's voice cracked. "Where… where the hell are we?"
A low rumble answered him — like the growl of a stomach, echoing through the room.
II. The Room of Flesh
The ceiling pulsed like a living lung, threads of nerves twitching with each breath.
The walls were stitched-together faces, some still blinking, some whispering wordless sounds.
The air was wet, heavy with the stench of rot, vomit, and burnt fingernails.
And in the center… a dining table.
Not wood. Not metal.
Rib cage.
Long. Twisted. Plates of cracked skulls rested in front of 13 chairs — each one a twisted
mockery of a school seat, made from bones and tendon.
But one seat stood out.
"Seat 4A." It was empty.
It dripped blood.
III. The 12 Offerings
Twelve students. All from 2-C. They hadn't seen each other since that strange field trip
invitation… the one that none of them remembered accepting.
They stood, dazed, staring at one another. Slowly, names passed through the room.
Yuto Tanaka – Kind-hearted but anxious. Hides his panic behind shaky bravery.
Airi Nakamura – Popular, icy, always calculating. Something cruel behind her eyes.
Kenta Mori – Loud, jock. Muscles and nerves. Not much else.
Minako Sato – Hot-tempered and honest. Trusts no one.
Rei Shimizu – Quiet, glasses, twitchy. Has panic attacks.
Souta Nishioka – Gamer, keeps muttering game logic to himself.
Haruto Aizawa – Smiles too much. Smiles at everything. It's… wrong.
Yuka Hayashi – Rich girl. Hates being touched. Already throwing up.
Naoki Endo – Draws in blood when he thinks no one's watching.
Megumi Takanashi – Class rep. Rules mean everything to her.
Takeshi Imai – The bully. Already looking for someone weaker.
Kanae Fujimoto – Sits in the corner whispering, "She's coming… she's coming…"
And that empty chair… 4A.
It watched them.
IV. The Waiter Appears
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
Footsteps. But not on the floor. On bones.
A man stepped out from the far shadows. Dressed in a black tuxedo soaked in blood. His face
was stitched shut — mouth, eyelids, even nostrils. His arms were too long, dragging his fingers
along the wall where tongues licked his skin.
He bowed.
And inside their heads, a voice rang out like a scream under water:
"Welcome to Her Dining Hall."
"One seat remains empty. But not for long."
"You will eat. You will obey. Or you will be fed to Her."
He raised a blood-dripping silver platter.
Thirteen plates.
V. The Plates
Each plate — a human skull.
Each portion — moving.
Twitching. Screaming.
Airi's plate: A tiny fetus, crying with stitched eyelids.
Kenta's: A bloated heart. Still beating.
Rei's: A pair of severed fingers, nail polish still fresh, twitching in spasms.
Yuto's: Raw, quivering meat that spoke in his own voice.
Rei stuttered, "W-why is m-mine… looking at me?"
Souta whimpered, "This is a game… it's a death game, right? Like Saw? Right?"
The waiter's stitched mouth opened slightly. Blood dripped from the thread.
"You must eat. Or She will eat you."
VI. The First Refusal
Minako stood, eyes burning. "No. No way in hell."
Kenta joined her. "We're not eating this sick—"
Suddenly, the table split open, veins reaching up like ropes.
They wrapped around Minako's legs, snapping bones, tearing into her.
She screamed, "HELP ME! DO SOMETHING!"
No one moved.
The waiter extended a finger.
"Seat 4A" turned to face Minako.
The walls pulsed.
The table birthed a figure.
A girl. Small. Bloody. Stomach torn open. Lips sewn shut.
Her head twitched.
She pointed at Minako.
And from her torn stomach crawled a creature — like a fetus with teeth.
It launched at Minako's chest.
Tore through her ribcage.
Her scream turned into a gurgle.
The creature climbed into her mouth.
Minako's body convulsed. Skin tearing open, insides rotting in seconds.
Her face split open like fruit.
And then—
Silence.
Minako was gone.
Only a wet pile of bones and a seat covered in her dripping skin remained.
Seat 4A was grinning now.
VII. The Whisper
Yuto was shaking. "What the hell… what is this place?!"
The waiter turned to him.
"You will understand soon."
"Seat 4A" creaked.
It turned toward Yuto.
Inside his head:
"Yuto... you belong here..."
"Sit, Yuto. Sit with me."
He screamed.
The meat walls laughed.
Chapter 2: The Rules of Her Table
The air was thicker now. Not just with rot and blood — but with the weight of a presence.
Something unseen but watching. A force clinging to the walls like mold with eyes. As Yuto
stood frozen, his lips still whispering, "The seat... it knows me," the rest of the students huddled
together in shocked silence.
Minako's severed head still sat on her plate, mouth frozen in a scream. Her body slumped like
overcooked meat in the chair, her blood soaking into the floor. None of them moved to touch her.
None dared.
And then—
CLINK.
The sound of a silver spoon gently striking porcelain echoed through the hall. Once. Twice.
Three times.
From the far side of the grotesque hall,
The Waiter returned.
His smile hadn't changed. Still stitched in too wide. His eyes too hollow. He walked past
Minako's corpse, not even glancing at it, as if her death was no more shocking than a dropped
napkin.
"Such a shame," he said softly, folding his hands in front of him. "The girl refused to eat. She
insulted HER grace. Seat 4A demands respect."
He paused before the group. "Now then… welcome, my lovely guests. I am your host, your
servant, and your punishment."
He gave a slight bow.
"The rules are quite simple. You are here to dine. That is all. "Refuse to eat… and you will be
eaten." Try to escape… and you will become the meal. Break the order of the course… and She
will come down to devour you personally."
A boy in the back—Souta—whispered, "W-what the hell is this place?! We didn't agree to this!"
The Waiter tilted his head. "Ah… but this is not about agreement. This is about hunger."
I. Empty Chair-
He gestured to the empty seat, 4A, still soaked in a strange black liquid that pulsed slightly. It
was as if the chair itself breathed.
"She is always here. Watching. Waiting. She sits between your screams and your sins. Displease
her, and she shall feed."
The group stared at the chair, terror knitting their faces into pale masks.
Yuto took a step back, his breath shallow. The whisper was louder now.
"Yuto… I remember your taste."
II. Another Warning
"I will now serve the second course," said the Waiter. "And this time, you will eat. Or you will
die screaming like Minako."
Suddenly, the floor beneath Takeshi's feet opened up, revealing a long, gaping maw of jagged
teeth. Black tendrils whipped up and latched around his legs.
He shrieked, kicking violently. "NO! NO! I'll eat! I'll eat!"
But the dining hall did not forgive so easily.
The tendrils peeled off his skin like fruit. The sound of ripping flesh echoed off the walls. One
tentacle rammed itself into his mouth, choking him with his own intestines as they were pulled
from his open stomach.
The last thing he saw before darkness was the empty chair.
"Seat 4A was smiling."
III. The Second Course
The tables shook as silver lids lifted from the center platters.
This time, the plates revealed sizzling meat, glistening and twitching. Eyes. Fingers. Something
with tiny teeth still chewing itself. It smelled familiar, horrifyingly so.
"I-it looks like… a person…" Riku muttered.
"It is," the Waiter said cheerfully. "Your friend Takeshi was quite... tender."
Someone vomited into their lap.
"But there's more," the Waiter said, lifting a scroll from inside his coat. "I will now read you the
rest of the rules. Break them, and she will feast on your soul."
IV. The Full Rules of Her Table
1. You must eat what is served.
2. You may not switch plates.
3. You must not speak Her name.
4. You may not hide or destroy food.
5. The seating order must remain.
6. Refuse three dishes, and you become one.
7. Only the Empty Seat may decide who skips.
8. She hates liars.
9. You will be watched — always.
"Let that settle in your stomachs," the Waiter said, licking blood from a napkin.
V. Character Interactions Begin
The survivors finally began to talk, shaking and sweating.
Yuto stared at Seat 4A, feeling the voice inside his skull.
Riku, the silent nerd, began scribbling madly in his notebook: "Pattern… this is a game. It's a
game."
Aika, the quiet girl, sat clutching Minako's necklace, whispering apologies.
Souta broke into sobs, hitting the table until his knuckles bled.
Emi, the popular girl, tried to organize them, trembling but fierce.
Naoya, the class president, tried to keep order, saying, "No one eats alone. We do this together."
But the Waiter clapped once.
"Eat. Time's running out."
VI. Forced Consumption
When no one moved, the Waiter approached Souta and whispered something in his ear. Souta's
eyes went wide. He began shoveling meat into his mouth, tears pouring down his face.
"I don't want to die," he sobbed between bites. "I don't want to die."
The others followed. One by one. Trembling. Crying. Vomiting into bowls, and eating it again.
Yuto… did not move.
The voice in Seat 4A was too loud now.
"They don't understand… you belong to me."
VII. The Chair Calls Again
As the meal ended, the lights dimmed. The room fell silent.
And then, Yuto's chair slowly scraped itself back, without him touching it.
He stood up. Frozen.
Seat 4A pulled itself back too.
The Waiter grinned, bowing again.
"Her favorite is always the one who hears her first."
Yuto's plate now held a heart. Still beating. It was his own.
And the voice whispered, soft as silk but soaked in rot:
"Take one bite, Yuto. Just one. Or I'll eat your friends instead."
CHAPTER 3: WHEN THE WALLS BEGIN TO BREATHE
I. The Dining Hall Awakens
The silence after Minako's death felt unnatural—not quiet, but pressurized. Like something was
holding its breath. Waiting.
The students stood frozen, as if stepping out of place would be their end.
Then…
SQUELCH.
The floor shifted under Yuto's foot.
It wasn't a floor.
It was meat. Warm. Alive. Beating.
He jerked his leg back.
"Wha—what the hell is this?!" Rika gasped.
The entire room shivered.
Veins pulsed along the walls. A slick, mucus-like film began to coat the flesh around them. From
the ceiling, wet threads of fat and muscle slowly lowered, like hanging tongues.
Haruka screamed as one brushed her shoulder.
And then...
The walls exhaled.
A long, wet, vibrating breath.
"HuuuuhhhhHHHHhhh…"
It came from nowhere. And everywhere.
"Is the building... breathing?" Ayane asked, voice trembling.
Suddenly, the light bulbs ruptured, one by one, spraying the room in a dull red emergency glow.
Shadows stretched and shifted. And the walls began to move—subtly at first, like they were
flexing, rolling under the skin.
drip. drip. splat.
Blood.
Thick, dark, congealed blood began to ooze down from the ceiling.
It wasn't dripping.
It was weeping.
And the sound of teeth grinding filled the silence. Not theirs.
The walls had teeth.
II. Distortion of Reality: Hallucinations Begin
Yuto backed away from Seat 4A, but the chair creaked.
A cold breath whispered in his ear.
"Why didn't you save me... brother?"
He turned—and saw her.
A small girl, skin pale grey, eyes sunken and rotten. Her jaw twisted unnaturally to one side,
revealing blackened gums.
"Eat before you starve," she smiled.
He blinked—and she was gone.
Across the table, Haruka vomited into her lap.
"Th-the steak... it turned into my dad's face," she sobbed, wiping at her mouth. "It was smiling at
me…"
To the rest, it still looked like meat. Charred. Bloody. Normal.
She stood, hands shaking.
And then screamed.
Her own tongue had detached and was wiggling on her plate, like a fish out of water. Twitching.
Covered in thick saliva.
"It's just a hallucination!" Hideo cried. "This is a drug trip! Psychological warfare!"
But the dining hall didn't let him finish.
III. Hideo Devoured by the Floor
The flesh beneath Hideo's seat split open, like a vaginal maw, with layers of soft muscle and
jagged teeth hidden inside.
It grabbed him—ankles first.
He screamed, slamming his hands on the table, trying to pull free. Rika grabbed his arm.
"Hold on—HIDEO!"
But the floor tightened like a bear trap. There was a CRACK—his spine snapped inward like a
folded straw.
Blood exploded from his mouth.
His torso collapsed. Intestines burst out like sausages. His eyes bulged, filled with horror, as his
mouth gurgled his final scream.
And then…
Silence.
His bottom half was gone. The floor chewed for a moment longer.
Then went still.
The room smelled like iron and bile.
IV. Takeshi's Mistake
Takeshi stood up, blood splattered across his shirt, shaking.
"I'm DONE with this nightmare!!"
He bolted.
One of the flesh corridors at the edge of the hall peeled open like a wound. He ran straight into it.
But the moment he entered—the walls slammed shut.
CRUNCH.
SPLAT.
A sickening pop as his skull burst like a melon.
From the seam in the wall, his severed hand tumbled out. Twitched once.
Then stopped.
V. The Hall Comes Alive
Ayane sobbed, face buried in her hands. "This isn't real... I want to go home... I want to go
HOME..."
Seat 4A shifted.
Creak.
Creak.
Creak.
No one sat there.
But the chair rocked, gently.
"You're next, Yuto..."
A voice. Distant. Whispered.
He turned slowly.
The walls were covered in faces now.
Pressed into the flesh. Human faces. Eyeless. Screaming. The mouths moved, but there were no
sounds.
Just the distant echo of chewing. Slurping. Gulping.
"STOP IT! MAKE IT STOP!!" Rika screamed, throwing a chair at the wall.
The chair embedded in the wall—and the wall spat it back.
Covered in pus.
"Th-this room... it's watching us..." Yuto muttered.
The food on the table melted into rotting human flesh, oozing maggots, hair, and shredded skin.
All of it screamed in unison.
"EAAAAAAAAAAAAAT... OR BECOME THE COURSE."
And finally…
The walls laughed.
Seat 4A shifts one last time.
A blood print appears on the chair's cushion.
The shape of a small hand.
Yuto begins to cry.
"Why do I remember this room...? Why do I feel like I've been here before...?"
Behind him, a girl's voice.
"Because you left me here to die."
He turns around—
Nothing.
Blackout.
CHAPTER 4: A MEAL OF MEMORIES
The screams had died, but the silence that followed was worse.
Yuto opened his eyes again. His hands were shaking, coated with half-dried blood. The scent of
iron clung to his skin like it had soaked into his veins. The dining hall was quiet—too quiet.
But something was wrong.
Minako's body, which had been torn open like raw meat on a butcher's slab, was no longer there.
Her blood had soaked into the table before. Now the wood was clean. Almost polished.
The lights above flickered—no, not flickered—they pulsed, like they were breathing. The walls,
once still, now looked… wet. Slippery. Like skin stretched too tight over something alive.
Yuto sat up, breathing heavily.
"Where… where is everyone?"
There were still twelve chairs at the table. But now, the faces around him didn't match.
Haruto was gone.
Sayuri was crying quietly, her face pale as death.
Sora sat in the corner, whispering to herself, her hands clasped together as if in prayer.
Only five students remained in this version of the room.
I. A Room That Isn't the Same Anymore
Shoko stood up. Her voice trembled. "This… this isn't the same. The air smells different. Can't
you feel it?"
"I saw Minako die," whispered Aoi, her eyes darting to the table. "But… where's her body?"
"No one's dead," came a voice.
They all turned.
It was the Waiter.
Only now… he looked wrong.
His white coat was stained with thick red lines, as if he'd been slicing through meat. His mouth
was too wide when he smiled. And his eyes… one pupil was vertical.
"You're still here," he said softly. "But not together."
"What does that mean?" shouted Sayuri.
The Waiter didn't answer. Instead, he clapped his hands once. A sharp sound that echoed
unnaturally.
And then…
The second meal appeared.
But this time, there were no silver trays.
The food… just bled onto the table.
Piles of raw, twitching flesh.
Clumps of hair. Teeth. Eyeballs rolling in thick sauce.
A cold metallic plate slid in front of Yuto. On it was… a school notebook.
But it was wet.
The cover was torn open, and inside, pages stuck together with something dark. Something foul.
Yuto didn't want to look.
But he had to.
The handwriting was his.
II. Eat Your Memories, Child
The Waiter leaned in, whispering in Yuto's ear, "Do you remember what you did in second
year?"
Yuto's breath caught.
"I—No—I didn't mean to—"
"Open the page," the Waiter said.
His hands trembling, Yuto peeled back the soaked page.
It was a drawing.
A sketch of a girl crying, her uniform torn. His own handwriting read: She deserved it.
Yuto screamed.
"No! No, I didn't—They made me—!"
On the plate now was her hand, severed at the wrist, nails still chipped.
"Eat it."
Yuto vomited onto the floor.
The Waiter smiled. "If you don't eat what you left behind… it will eat you instead."
III. Sayuri's Dish
Sayuri's plate was already open.
She didn't move.
On it lay a stuffed teddy bear, its belly torn open. But instead of cotton, it was full of worms—
still alive, squirming and biting.
In the middle of the mess was a child's voice recorder. When she accidentally touched it, the old
voice played:
"Mommy... please don't make me go back to him... it hurts..."
Sayuri began to scream.
Her father's face appeared on the wall beside her, stretched wide and flesh-colored. His mouth
opened.
"I told you not to tell," the face said.
Sayuri grabbed the bear, sobbing. "No—no—no—please stop—"
The worms crawled up her arms, biting into her flesh.
IV. The Rules of Memory
The Waiter stood, straightening his bloodied coat.
"In this hall," he said, "you are not punished for your sins. No, no."
"You are punished for what you tried to forget."
"One dish per soul."
"One memory per plate."
"You eat it."
"Or you die."
V. Sora's Prayer
Sora's dish didn't arrive. She stood and began praying louder, over and over.
"I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't—"
Suddenly, a meat hook dropped from the ceiling.
It sank straight into her shoulder.
She screamed as the chain lifted her off the ground.
Blood poured down her dress. The lights flickered violently. Her legs kicked in the air.
The ceiling tore open.
A voice—not the Waiter's—spoke.
"YOU NEVER PRAYED FOR HER."
Sora began sobbing. "No… no, please…"
A photograph appeared on her plate below.
A girl. Same school. Bruised, lying on a staircase.
"She jumped. You watched."
The chain yanked.
Her body split from her ribs.
Sora died screaming.
VI. Yuto Hears the Seat Call
The lights went red.
Yuto was alone now.
Only Sayuri sat beside him, trembling, hugging herself.
Across the table, Seat 4A was empty.
Yet… something moved in the chair.
A shadow. A whisper.
Then a giggle—soft, childlike.
Yuto turned pale. "No… No, not again…"
The voice came again.
"You promised you'd sit with me, remember?"
He saw a face under the table.
No skin.
Only muscle. Half a jaw. One eye hanging.
"Why didn't you save me, Yuto?"
Yuto screamed, stumbling back.
Sayuri looked at him, confused. "Who are you talking to?"
Yuto pointed.
But Seat 4A was now empty again.
Only a trail of bloody small handprints led away from it.
The Waiter appeared behind them.
"Your next dish will arrive soon," he whispered.
"And this time… she'll feed you herself."
Chapter 5: The Table Never Ends
The dining hall was no longer still.
It groaned.
Low at first, like wood cracking beneath invisible weight, but then deeper—wet and organic. The
walls… moved. Slowly. Pulsating. Breathing.
Minami gripped the edge of the blood-stained table, her knuckles white, eyes wide. She turned to
Aoi, who had fallen silent since vomiting up her trauma-meal. He was staring at the corner of the
room, frozen.
"Do… do you see that?" Minami whispered.
The corner wall sagged like a hanging throat. And then—it blinked.
Yuto backed away, dragging his chair with a loud screech. "The wall just blinked—What the hell
is this place?!"
Shun stood slowly. "It's not the walls," he said. "It's her. She's watching us now."
A shudder ran through the ground—no, the floor, now visibly shifting in patterns like skin
crawling. Black veins surfaced under the tiles. They pulsed with rhythm—like a heartbeat.
The dining hall had become alive.
I. The Whispering Room
Tatsuki suddenly screamed. "Stop whispering! Stop whispering, dammit!"
Everyone turned to him.
His hands clawed at his ears. "They're saying my name… They're telling me to confess—telling
me to confess—make it stop!"
Blood dripped from his nose. He collapsed to his knees.
Yume ran to him, grabbing his shoulders. "Tatsuki, no one's saying anything!"
"I… I left her… to die…" he muttered.
"What?"
"The girl in the subway. I watched her fall onto the tracks. Everyone screamed. I just… stepped
back. Didn't move. Didn't help."
Yume's face paled.
The wall beside Tatsuki opened—a slit tearing through stone like flesh. Something came out. A
long, sticky black tongue, shaped like a hand. It coiled around his body.
"No! NO!" Tatsuki struggled, kicking violently.
The tongue pulled him toward the hole in the wall. His screams echoed. The wall began closing,
grinding against itself with a fleshy sound.
Just before it sealed, the tongue dropped something.
Tatsuki's face. Skin peeled clean off—eyelids frozen mid-scream.
II. Hallucinations and Her Voice
Sayaka's voice returned.
"You ate your guilt," she whispered from every corner. "But you never tasted your truth."
The chandelier above the table melted. Droplets of wax hit the tablecloth like falling blood.
Everyone huddled together, terrified.
Yuto whispered, "She's going to take all of us."
Then the lights dimmed.
And they began to see their worst nightmares come alive.
Aoi saw her mother, hanging from a ceiling fan, staring at her with accusing eyes.
Yume saw herself covered in blood, dragging a suitcase down a hospital hallway.
Minami saw her younger brother's burnt body pointing at her.
The hallucinations weren't in their heads anymore. They were in the room. Touching them.
III. The Living Feast
Suddenly, the dining table reshaped itself. Plates fused to its surface. Forks twisted into bone.
Out of the center, a new meal appeared.
It was moving.
The dish was a pile of what looked like tongues and fingers, cooked in sticky black bile. And on
top of it sat a card.
"This is what remains of lies."
The air turned cold.
The food began to twitch. A tongue slowly dragged itself off the plate and dropped onto the
floor, leaving a trail of saliva and blood.
"EAT," the room said. Not in a voice, but in pressure. A compulsion that pushed inside their
stomachs like invisible hands.
"NO!" Minami screamed. "I'm not eating that! I won't!"
But Shun moved forward. Calmly.
He sat.
Took the knife.
And cut a piece of the meat.
Without a word, he put it in his mouth.
It was his own tongue.
He gagged, but swallowed.
Everyone stared at him.
Shun looked up, blood running from his lips.
"…It tastes like me."
IV. The Reappearance of Minako… but Changed
The room went dark.
Then, someone knocked on the wall.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The same slit that had taken Tatsuki reopened.
From it… Minako crawled out.
But her face was wrong. Sewn together. Her body stitched from different students—bits of their
uniforms still clinging to her misshapen form.
Her voice was childlike. Broken.
"They sewed me… into myself…"
She smiled, blood running from her teeth.
"Now it's your turn."
V. Seat 4A Whispers
Yuto turned to the empty seat.
4A.
It wasn't empty anymore.
A shadow sat there. Long, black hair. A little girl's form, only visible from the corner of the eye.
Every time someone tried to look at it directly, their vision twisted.
"Yuto," the voice whispered, soft like rustling paper.
He stared.
Everyone else had backed away, trembling.
The shadow moved.
"You watched her die, too, didn't you?" it asked.
Yuto didn't answer.
"Your sister," it said, "was screaming."
Yuto dropped to his knees, shaking.
"I didn't mean to," he whispered. "I was just scared. I—"
The shadow leaned forward.
"You sat in 4A, back then."
And then…
It giggled.
The seat bled. Soaked itself in a pool of red.
Yuto's name was carved into it.
And the voice whispered:
"Now it's your turn to serve…"
Chapter 6: The Girl Behind Seat 4A
The hall was breathing again.
Not literally. But the walls pulsed — ever so slightly. As if veins beneath its fleshy surface had
started twitching. As if the Dining Hall had grown… hungry again.
Six students remained.
They sat, drained and trembling, around the cursed table now slick with blood, bile, and chunks
of flesh from the last "bargain." Kento's left eye was still twitching from the aftermath of
devouring Sakura's toe. And beside him, Sakura stared blankly into her own trembling hands,
whispering, "I'm still me. I'm still me. I'm still me," like a prayer she no longer believed in.
But no one dared look toward Seat 4A.
Because it was dripping.
Not water. Not wine. But something thicker, redder. Something alive. A gooey string of blood
and mucus slid off the seat and landed with a sticky slap on the floor.
It was empty.
Still… it watched.
I. Do You Hear It ?
Kento flinched. The sound — faint and childlike — had returned.
A lullaby.
Soft. Off-key. Sung through lips that hadn't been used in years.
"Did… did anyone else hear that?" he asked, his voice barely holding shape.
Sakura shook her head. So did Ren.
"I think you're losing it," Yuto muttered. But even he looked uncertain.
The walls creaked.
Suddenly, the Dining Hall shifted — the table stretching further, becoming impossibly long. The
candles flickered, and shadows danced like malformed limbs across the walls. Then came the
smell.
Sweet.
Rotten.
Like the inside of a school locker that had never been cleaned — and had once held something
alive.
II. Memories Served on a Plate
A bell rang.
A cloche appeared in front of each student.
No sound of footsteps. No waiter this time. The food had simply… appeared.
Ren hesitated. Then lifted the lid from his plate.
He screamed.
It was a heart. Not human. But unmistakably real. Small. Charred at the edges. Pinned through it
— a golden student badge.
The others uncovered theirs one by one.
Each plate was different — yet similar in horror.
Sakura's dish: A lump of pink flesh, carved into the shape of a fetus, surrounded by broken glass
and bloodied gauze.
Kento's dish: A bowl of white rice… with human teeth buried beneath each grain.
Yuto's dish: A frozen, blue-black tongue, still pierced by a needle and thread.
Yuto turned pale. "Wh… why is this happening?"
Sakura vomited on the floor, but the table didn't seem to care.
Then, writing appeared on the wall in dripping ink:
"EAT YOUR TRAUMA. OR BECOME HERS."
III. Sakura's Shatter
Sakura stood.
"I'm not doing this! I won't eat it! I won't go through that again! She can kill me, I don't care!"
She kicked over her chair. But the moment her plate hit the ground — it screamed.
Not her.
The plate.
A tiny voice cried out from inside it — like a newborn. Wailing. Broken. Terrified.
Sakura collapsed, shaking.
"Make it stop. MAKE IT STOP!"
Suddenly — her chair bit her.
Sharp spikes rose from beneath the cushion, piercing her thighs. Blood sprayed up like a
fountain.
Her mouth opened to scream—
—but a hand reached from the plate and shoved the fetal flesh into her throat.
Her jaw cracked from the force.
She choked.
Gagged.
Coughed out something small… and twitching.
A finger.
Her own.
And then — the chair swallowed her.
Folded inward. Bent metal and skin.
Her body crushed with a wet pop.
Her soul? Left hanging in the air, screaming.
IV. Who Was Sayaka?
Yuto stared, pale and speechless.
Then, beside Seat 4A, a school report card slowly slid out from under the table, as if pushed by
unseen hands.
He picked it up.
Name: Sayaka Arakawa
Age: 13
Class: 1-B
Remarks: "Quiet. Needs supervision."
But it wasn't just that.
Taped inside the report card… was a photograph.
A schoolgirl. Eyes wide. Smiling too hard.
On the back, in a child's handwriting:
"They made me eat it.
They said it was just a joke.
But it was still beating."
V. The Return of the Forgotten
The floor began to warp. Tiles turned to human nails. The lights flickered and buzzed like flies.
And then… she came.
A girl's body, small and broken, crawled from underneath Seat 4A. She didn't walk. She
dragged herself forward with her hands. Her knees were shredded. Her hair was wet. Her face—
A porcelain mask.
Cracked. With one large slit where a mouth should be.
Behind the mask, faint breathing.
Yuto couldn't move.
Sayaka — if that was her — raised her head.
From her stitched lips came a rasp:
"You laughed…"
Then the walls screamed.
The Dining Hall roared — lights burst — the ceiling cracked.
Everyone fell from their chairs.
Seat 4A was now on fire, burning with ghostlight and blood.
Yuto crawled backward.
The air grew colder.
He turned to run — but his seat wouldn't let go of his legs. It held him, with hooks of hair and
bone.
Sayaka walked toward him, her feet leaving bloody prints.
She pointed at Seat 4A.
And whispered—
"It's yours now."
Darkness fell.
The Dining Hall closed its eyes.
And Seat 4A smiled.
Chapter 7: The Table Never Ends
I. The Flesh Currency
The plates had stopped breathing.
For the first time since they arrived in the grotesque Dining Hall, the room was silent.
But silence here didn't mean safety.
The scarlet chandelier above them began to pulse like a dying heart. Every beat echoed with the
screams of those who had already been consumed—both by others and by their own guilt. The
table beneath their hands rippled as if alive, its veins bulging and twitching beneath the skin-like
cloth.
Then came the whisper. Not from a speaker. Not from the waiter. It came from the walls.
"The next course… must be yours."
The plates in front of the remaining eight students were now empty, save for a bone knife—
carved from a jawbone, still fresh with saliva—and a hollow porcelain bowl shaped like a
screaming face.
A new message had been engraved onto the center of the table:
"OFFER. BLEED. SERVE.
YOUR BODY IS THE TICKET TO LIVE.
BUT OTHERS MUST SWALLOW TO LET YOU SURVIVE."
There was no time to hesitate. The Dining Hall was shifting. The walls bent inward, exhaling
moist air that reeked of rot. The lights dimmed as black sludge dripped from the ceiling. Seat 4A
remained empty, but the blood pooled under it like a hungry mouth.
II. The First Cut
It was Yuki who moved first. She had always been quiet. Too quiet. Her mind had already
broken after Minako's death.
With trembling fingers, she lifted the bone knife and placed her left hand on the plate. She didn't
speak. Her eyes looked somewhere beyond the walls, as if possessed by something worse than
fear—acceptance.
"If you eat it… maybe I'll stay alive…" she whispered.
Then she pressed the knife down.
CRACK.
The blade wasn't sharp enough. It took three slices before her little finger came off with a
squelch. Blood sprayed across her face like paint. She picked the finger up—still twitching—and
placed it gently in Ayato's bowl.
He gagged.
"Please… eat it," Yuki sobbed. "Just eat it, or I'll die next…"
Ayato looked between her bloody hand and the trembling flesh. He was shaking his head.
Crying.
"I can't… I can't do this…"
"THEN YOU WANT ME DEAD?!" Yuki shrieked, grabbing his hair and smashing his face into
the bowl. "EAT ME!! EAT ME!! I WANT TO LIVE!!"
Ayato screamed, pushing her back—but she was faster now. Desperate. Wild. She shoved the
severed finger into his mouth, holding it shut as blood oozed between his teeth.
He bit down.
CRUNCH.
And vomited.
III. Bargains and Beasts
That's when the others snapped.
Atsushi stabbed the bone knife into his own thigh, slicing out a chunk of muscle and hurling it
across the table like a madman. "TAKE IT! TAKE IT, SOMEONE! I WANT TO LIVE!"
Haruka ducked, screaming as the meat hit her face. She stood up, ready to run—but the Dining
Hall shifted again, stretching and closing its exits.
There was no escape.
Junpei grabbed Nari by the wrist. "Give me your toe. One toe. That's all. I'll eat it. You'll live.
Just do it!"
"NO!" Nari yelled. "Don't touch me!"
Junpei tackled her. He didn't even wait for permission. With horror and desperation, he began
sawing at her foot. Blood poured like soup onto the floor. Nari screamed and kicked and
thrashed—but no one helped.
Because now they all understood:
If no one ate the flesh, the one who cut would die.
If no one offered, the room would choose someone.
IV. Refusal Equals Death
Kenta stood still. His fists clenched. He had refused to cut anything. Refused to eat. He was
shaking, furious.
"This is not real," he muttered. "This isn't f**ing real…"*
But the room heard him.
The ceiling opened.
From the darkness above, something descended—long, pale, jointless arms like spider legs,
ending in teeth instead of fingers.
Seat 4A growled.
The arms grabbed Kenta by the shoulders and peeled him like fruit. Skin tore from muscle. His
screams became gargles as his chest cavity was pulled open, ribs bending like cracked glass.
In front of the others, he was turned into a feast.
Chunks of his meat dropped onto the table with wet, heavy thuds.
The message on the wall changed again.
"HE REFUSED TO PLAY.
SO NOW, YOU EAT."
V. The Monster in Them
Junpei was the first to eat. Crying. Sobbing. He scooped a piece of Kenta's heart and forced it
into his mouth.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I don't want to die…"
The others followed.
Ayato. Haruka. Even Yuki.
Some chewed with their eyes closed. Some retched. One laughed—too far gone in madness.
Blood ran down their lips. Bits of flesh stuck to their teeth.
They weren't survivors anymore.
They were scavengers.
The lights flickered again.
Seat 4A was full.
Not with a student—but with a shadow. A long-haired girl. Head down. Hands folded. Her eyes
were just black pits, leaking blood.
She smiled at them.
And whispered:
"You are what you eat."
Chapter 8: We Are What We Eat
The room no longer felt like a dining hall. The walls had pulsed shut behind them like a throat swallowing prey. The grotesque warmth of blood vapor hung heavy in the air. Each breath was like inhaling rot. The lights flickered red, then dimmed to a moaning darkness where the only thing visible... were the plates.
The remaining students sat broken. Their bodies wrapped in bloody gauze, tourniquets fashioned from uniform strips, limbs shaking with fever and pain. Yuto clutched the bandaged stump where his fingers had once been. Minami's shoulder was a deep cavity where skin had been peeled back like fruit.
Yuki sobbed uncontrollably, her lips still smeared with blood she refused to believe was once alive.
On each plate now sat what looked like... faces. Familiar, bloated, half-digested human faces.
Eyes still twitching. Some grinned. Some cried. Some whispered.
"You chewed me, Hina... Do you know what I felt when my tongue slid down your throat?"
The voices came from within. From the meat. From their stomachs.
I. The Return of the Eaten
The moment one of them gagged, the hall responded.
Rika's chest convulsed. She leaned over her plate and vomited violently. From her mouth came a wet mass of hair, followed by a human ear. It hit the plate with a plop, twitching once before stillness.
"I'm sorry—" Rika shrieked, tears cutting lines through dried blood. "I didn't want to eat her—I
DIDN'T WANT TO EAT HER!"
The ear grew teeth.
It bit her.
Screamed.
Rika fell back, clutching her throat as the flesh she had regurgitated slithered back inside her body.
II. Sayaka's Voice
Suddenly, the hall froze.
From the top of Seat 4A's empty chair, a black ooze began dripping. It formed thin arms.
Slender legs. A girl.
Her body was stitched together with school ribbons, her face covered by her long black hair, and a crusted school blazer hung from her rotted frame.
Sayaka Arakawa had arrived.
Her voice was delicate, but echoed with the weight of ancient pain.
"You call yourselves victims," she whispered. "But you—just like them—feast on the weak to live."
The floor under her turned translucent. The students saw what they shouldn't have.
A flashback burned into the floor like a film.
III. Sayaka's Truth
The floor beneath the table twisted open like a gaping wound, exposing a phantom reel of memory projected in blood and smoke. No one could look away — the images were burned into their eyes, as if Sayaka's trauma had been nailed to their skulls.
The scene played:
A narrow alley behind the old gym. Rain falling in thick, oily sheets. Mud swallowing shoes.
Sayaka Arakawa, thin, stood shaking, hugging her bag like a lifeline. Her school uniform was soaked, clinging to her body. Her eyes — wide, haunted — darted between the six students surrounding her. Faces grinning. Phones recording.
They cornered her like a pack of dogs.
"Eat it, freak."
"You think you can complain about us to the principal and get away with it ?"
"We're just feeding you. Be grateful."
They held her down.
Sayaka kicked and screamed, but it was drowned by laughter. One girl shoved her knee onto Sayaka's chest. Another grabbed a rusted lunchbox — its lid opened with a wet pop.
Inside: a rotting animal heart. Veins black. Insects crawling. Pulsing. Still alive.
"This was our class rabbit. Remember him? You fed it every day, didn't you? WELL, FEED IT BACK."
They forced it into her mouth.
Sayaka bucked. Bit. But it was too late.
The thing slid down her throat like a leech. Its black tendrils latched onto her uvula, holding on as she screamed.
Blood poured from her mouth.
She tore at her own throat, trying to rip it out, nails digging deep enough to expose red muscle.
Her lips blistered. Her tongue bulged. Her teeth cracked under pressure.
"She's really choking—haah—wait, is she—?"
One girl screamed when Sayaka's right eye burst.
Not from impact. From something moving behind it. Crawling. Living.
The heart was taking root.
Her body convulsed violently on the ground. Her stomach ballooned. Her veins turned black.
Skin split in lines across her arms like overripe fruit.
"HELP HER!" someone yelled.
No one moved.
Instead, they ran, dropping their phones, leaving Sayaka to die alone, twitching in the rain, teeth shattered around a devoured rabbit heart that wasn't dead.
And just before she stopped moving, Sayaka opened her mouth one last time.
A voice not her own spoke from deep inside.
"If I must rot... so will you all."
Then the rain stopped. The wind died. Silence swallowed the world.
The projection ended.
The students in the present fell to their knees, weeping, gagging.
Yuki vomited blood. Rika clutched her scalp, whispering, "It wasn't her fault... it wasn't... it wasn't..."
But Sayaka stood over them, not as a girl anymore — but as the rotten, hollow core of this entire
realm. Her skin was stitched with the names of those who watched her die. Her chest still bulged,
pulsing.
And deep inside it, the beating black heart of the rabbit still moved.
"You ate others to survive," she whispered.
"Now survive... being eaten by me."
IV. You Are What You Eat"
The floor snapped shut. Sayaka's gaze scanned them.
"Each time you devoured one another, you became more like them. Your fingers twitch like theirs. Your skin smells like theirs. You scream in their voices."
Yuto vomited again. This time it wasn't food. It was hair, a whole scalp with familiar curls.
"Oh god—this is Minako—this is her head—I ATE HER—I ATE HER!!"
Mutations began.
Hina's legs bent backwards like broken dogs.
Minami's eyes multiplied across her face — six, then eight, blinking in madness.
Yuki's tongue extended to her chest, thick and black and covered in teeth.
They were no longer students. They were meat-memories. Morphed fragments of everything
they had consumed.
V. Kill or Consume
Sayaka whispered:
"To leave, you must devour what remains of your sins. Or be devoured."
The doors creaked open. A pile of limb-offering trays spilled in. Students still alive. Barely.
Yuto screamed and ran.
He was dragged back by a tongue-arm, flailing, bleeding. It was Rika's. She grinned through
torn lips.
"You didn't eat my offering, Yuto."
She bit into his throat.
Only a Few Remain
The hall dimmed again.
Bodies melted into the walls. Screams became the air.
Sayaka stood above it all. Her body dripping pieces of everyone. A walking mass of eaten guilt.
"When you feed on pain, you become it. And when the table ends, so will you."
Chapter 9: Let the Final Feast Begin
They thought it was over.
Five survivors, drenched in blood, eyes glazed over with hunger and horror. They sat limp in
their chairs, staring at each other in silence, surrounded by plates filled with parts of friends they
once trusted.
The table was stained black with coagulated blood. Silver cutlery stuck out of necks and arms —
abandoned mid-meal.
Then, the bell rang.
DING.
The temperature dropped. The air grew thick and alive, like breathing inside the mouth of a dead
god.
The lights flickered to green, and then to deep red.
Sayaka Arakawa appeared at the far end of the table.
Not a ghost. Not a girl. Not a god.
Something worse.
Half of her face still held the soft, dead innocence of the girl who once choked on a prank gone
too far. The other half had peeled away, revealing crimson muscle, crawling worms, glass teeth,
and an eye that blinked sideways.
The ground pulsed under her bare feet. The walls moaned.
"You fed on each other," she said, voice soft but buzzing like rot beneath fingernails.
"Now… you must feed on yourselves."
She clapped once.
New plates appeared.
But this time, the food wasn't meat.
It wasn't even physical.
It was truth.
Haruka's plate: Her mother's ashes, spilled and mixed with burnt prescription pills — the same
pills she refused to buy when her mother begged her to stop spending on makeup and brands.
Yuto's plate: A bloodstained video cassette, playing over and over: the moment he locked a girl
inside a dog cage during a prank. She never came back to school.
Junpei's plate: His own diary, pages torn and soaked in vomit — filled with drawings of Sayaka,
violating her with words and images.
Their sins.
Their hunger.
Served back to them in a seven-course meal of shame.
"This is your final dish," Sayaka said. "Guilt is the seasoning. Pain is the price."
Suddenly, the walls peeled back like skin, revealing dozens of suspended bodies — the devoured
ones.
Taiga. Minako. Shoji. Kentaro.
Alive again, but not truly.
Hung from meat hooks, their bodies pulsed with maggots and teeth, their arms reassembled with
forks for fingers, mouths stitched into permanent grins. Eyes weeping blood.
They moved.
They crawled toward the table.
Haruka screamed. Junpei backed away.
"Eat. Or be eaten," Sayaka whispered.
I. The First Collapse
Yuto snapped.
He grabbed the tape and smashed it.
"NO! I don't accept this! I won't eat this lie!"
Sayaka blinked.
"Then you will eat him," she said, pointing to Kentaro's corpse — now holding a ladle filled
with hot oil and his own melted thigh.
Kentaro threw the ladle at Yuto. The oil struck his chest.
Yuto screamed as his skin blistered, peeled.
Then Kentaro tackled him, and in a swirl of red and steam, bit into Yuto's cheek, tearing
muscle.
Yuto howled, face torn, blood gushing.
He begged.
No one helped.
Kentaro drove a spoon into Yuto's eye socket and fed it to him.
II. The Betrayal Feast
Haruka, shaking, reached for her mother's ashes.
"Forgive me," she whispered. "Please…"
She swallowed a spoonful.
Screams filled her skull.
She saw herself — nine years old, stepping over her passed-out mother, taking selfies. She
laughed as her mother's body twitched on the floor.
The taste of charcoal and teeth filled her throat.
She vomited, then kept eating.
"This is what I deserve…"
"This is what I deserve…"
Sayaka watched her. Smiling.
III. Junpei's Hell
Junpei refused.
He tried to run — but Sayaka lifted a single finger.
And the walls closed.
The room inverted — the ceiling became the floor.
He fell — straight into a pile of devoured corpses, who opened their stitched mouths and sang his
name.
One of them — a girl he had bullied until she cut her wrists — stood and grabbed his jaw.
"Draw me again," she whispered, and ripped his jaw clean off.
Junpei choked, flailing.
The corpse shoved his diary pages down his throat, stuffing them in like meat.
"You wrote this filth? Then eat it. Let it fill you."
He suffocated on his own fantasies.
IV. The Guilt Offering
Only Haruka remained.
Sayaka stepped forward.
She placed a final dish in front of her.
A silver dome. Cold.
"Inside is my heart. The one you laughed at. The one you ignored.
Devour it — and you walk free. Refuse, and your soul rots here forever."
Haruka opened it.
Sayaka's heart beat… and wept.
It pulsed with the sounds of her death — the laughter of students, the gagging, the choking, the
sound of her skull hitting the floor.
Haruka screamed, her mind tearing.
"I don't want to live! I don't deserve to!"
"Eat," Sayaka whispered.
Haruka sobbed.
And she did.
She ate the heart.
And remembered everything.
Haruka collapses, twitching, as Sayaka's form fractures — thousands of eyes opening across her
body.
The dining hall folds in on itself.
Reality warps.
And then — silence.
Only one seat remains filled now.
Only one seat... is still warm.
The world didn't shatter.
It just… quietly stopped.
Chapter 10: The Last Chair
The red lights flickered one last time, then died.
The walls, once breathing and bleeding, turned to cold, dry stone. The tables rotted into bone
colored splinters. Blood dried black on the ground, crackling under the weight of silence.
Haruka lay slumped at Seat 4A.
Still breathing. Barely.
Her fingers twitched, sticky with Sayaka's heart blood.
Around her: nothing.
No other survivors.
No exit.
No time.
And yet — everything had changed.
The air felt cleaner, but not purer.
Just… emptier.
A silence that felt inherited, like a curse passed from dying lips.
I. The Room Begins to Whisper
Haruka opened her eyes.
The ceiling was gone — replaced by an endless sky of dead faces, watching. Some familiar.
Most not.
All once eaten.
All once guilty.
The table that held her up shifted.
It grew.
Not in size… but in presence.
Chains slithered from the ground and wrapped around her ankles, wrists, and spine. They didn't
hurt — they simply declared ownership.
From the edge of her vision, the porcelain mask appeared.
Sayaka's.
But cracked in two.
It slid across the table toward her, carried by unseen hands.
"You sat in her seat," a voice whispered. Not Sayaka's.
Not human.
The Dining Hall itself.
"You devoured her heart.
Now… you are her."
Haruka screamed.
Her skin began to crack — not from pain, but from transformation.
II. Becoming the Chair
Her fingers bent backward. Her mouth fused shut. Her eyes went black.
Veins stretched outward, digging into the table, spreading like roots through the rot and wood.
The walls returned — but rebuilt themselves, faster, smarter, sharper.
The room restructured around her, like an organism healing — like a memory solidifying.
A new plaque appeared on the head chair:
Seat 4A — Haruka Minami
(Host. Curator of the Feast.)
Her soul screamed from somewhere deep inside.
But her mouth only smiled.
III. The Next Invitation
Elsewhere…
in the living world…
Twelve students sat quietly on a school bus.
It was raining.
The wipers clicked back and forth.
The driver wore no face.
Each student clutched a sealed envelope in their laps — addressed in perfect handwriting:
"You are cordially invited to The Final Dining Hall.
Your guilt is the first course.
Answer…with your soul."
The bus turned off the main road.
Into the fog.
Into nowhere.
IV. Back in the Hall
Haruka blinked once.
A bell rang.
DING.
The table was set again.
Twelve fresh chairs.
Twelve nameless plates.
The Feast… begins again.
This time, she will watch.
This time, she will choose.
This time… no one eats clean.