The Sinner

Jiro stepped forward cautiously, the air around her thick and heavy, like a warm blanket draped over her shoulders.

Unlike the other rings, this one wasn’t chaotic. There were no violent rulers waiting to claim her, no grotesque monstrosities chasing her down.

It was silent.

Still.

And in the center of it all—

A cocoon.

Suspended from the ceiling by silky, golden threads, the cocoon pulsed gently, as if something within it was breathing. The room around it was vast and dark, filled with piles of plush cushions, soft rugs, and faintly glowing lanterns. The walls shimmered like distant stars, shifting and swirling like liquid.

Jiro felt her body relax despite herself.

This place is… nice…

But her stomach twisted.

Denki’s voice crackled through the phone. “Dude, this is way too chill.”

Jiro nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

She took another step forward, feeling the floor soften beneath her boots, like stepping onto the fluffiest carpet imaginable.

It was so comfortable.

So warm.

She could feel her exhaustion catching up to her, creeping into her limbs like an old friend.

How long had she been running? How long had she been escaping these nightmares?

She could rest here.

Just for a moment.

“Hey.”

Denki’s voice snapped her out of it.

She blinked hard, shaking her head. “Yeah. I know. I know.”

Denki’s voice was laced with concern. “You don’t sound like you know.”

Jiro exhaled sharply, rubbing her eyes. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

But was she?

This place… it wanted her to stay.

And suddenly, she realized—

It had been wanting others to stay, too.

Her gaze darted around the room. How many people had come through here before her?

Her stomach twisted. “Hey, Denki?”

“Yeah?”

“…How many souls do you think are trapped in this place?”

Denki was quiet for a moment. “…Too many.”

Jiro swallowed hard.

There were still three more rings after this.

And an exit—at the end of Pride.

Ochako’s words echoed in her head.

No one has ever truly left before they lost themselves.

Her breath hitched. Did that mean… every ruler in this place had once been like her? That she could become like them?

She shivered, glancing back at the cocoon.

Was there someone inside?

Was that what happened if you gave in?

She took a step back, pulse quickening.

“Okay,” she muttered, gripping her phone. “I need to get out of here. Now.”

Denki let out a breath of relief. “Thank god. Alright—where’s the exit?”

Jiro’s eyes darted around the room, searching.

And then—

The cocoon shifted.

Her breath caught.

“…Shit.”

The cocoon shuddered, silk unraveling in delicate, whisper-thin strands.

Jiro froze, gripping her phone tighter.

A faint glow seeped from within, casting soft shadows along the walls. Then, slowly—

A figure emerged.

He stepped forward, his body adorned in layers of flowing fabric, stitched together with golden thread. His wings—massive, shimmering, and covered in intricate patterns—unfurled behind him, dusting the air with faint, glimmering particles.

His eyes, half-lidded and dreamlike, flickered toward Jiro as if noticing her for the first time.

Jiro felt something pull at her chest.

He was… beautiful.

Denki’s voice crackled through the phone. “Dude. Dude. Say something.”

Jiro exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus.

“…Are you the ruler of this ring?”

The man blinked, tilting his head. He moved with a kind of slow, deliberate grace, as if every action was drawn out for eternity.

“…Ruler?” he echoed, voice light as air.

Jiro swallowed. “Yeah. Like, uh… the others. The ones before you.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Ah… non.”

Jiro frowned. “No?”

He stepped forward, wings fluttering slightly. “I do not rule this ring,” he murmured. “I simply… exist in it.”

Jiro’s stomach twisted.

Denki’s voice was sharp now. “Dude. Get out. Now.”

But Jiro didn’t move.

This person didn’t seem hostile.

And unlike the others, he wasn’t attacking her.

“…Why are you here?” she asked carefully.

He blinked slowly. “Because it is comfortable.”

Jiro clenched her jaw. “But you stay here?”

He smiled faintly. “And why wouldn’t I?”

Jiro inhaled sharply, gripping her phone.

This wasn’t like Lust or Gluttony.

There was no chase, no fight.

Just comfort.

That’s the trap, she realized. It doesn’t need to fight me.

Because if she stayed long enough, she wouldn’t want to leave at all.

Denki’s voice was practically shouting now. “Jiro. Jiro. You’re getting quiet. That’s not good. That’s REALLY NOT GOOD.”

Jiro took a shaky breath.

She needed to go.

She knew that.

But the person’s voice was so soft.

And his wings were so mesmerizing.

And this place was so—

Denki screamed into the phone. “WAKE UP, DUDE.”

Jiro flinched, eyes snapping wide.

He smiled.

She ran.

Jiro's breath hitched as something tugged at her wrist.

A single golden thread, impossibly thin yet unbreakable, trailed from her skin back toward him.

She hadn’t even noticed it latching onto her.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she turned back toward him.

His wings—

They weren’t wings at all.

They were stitched to his back, threads embedding deep into his skin, pulling and binding him to the cocoon behind him.

They weren’t meant for flight.

They were meant to keep him here.

He followed her gaze, his tired eyes half-lidded in something close to amusement.

“Ah…” he sighed, shifting slightly, the golden strings around him shimmering in the low light. “You noticed…”

Jiro swallowed hard.

Denki's voice cut in, urgent. “What?! Noticed what?! What’s happening?!”

Jiro ignored him.

The exit—

There.

At the far end of the room.

If she could just—

Think.

She forced herself to relax, keeping her voice even. “Hey… before I go—”

He tilted his head, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Jiro took a slow step toward the exit. “What’s your name?”

His wings twitched, the golden strings pulling faintly at his back.

“…Does it matter?”

Jiro nodded. “It does to me.”

He blinked, looking genuinely surprised for the first time.

He was quiet for a long moment, and in that silence, Jiro shifted her weight—

Closer to the exit.

“…Aoyama Yuga,” he finally murmured.

Jiro forced a grin. “Thanks, Yuga.”

And then—

She bolted.

Jiro sprinted toward the exit—

But the moment she moved, the golden threads snapped taut.

A sharp pull yanked her backward, nearly throwing her off her feet.

She gasped, whipping around.

More threads—dozens of them—had latched onto her arms, her legs, even her back.

She hadn’t even felt them attach.

“Shit—shit—shit—” Jiro thrashed, trying to rip them off, but they wouldn’t budge.

Denki’s voice was panicked. “JIRO?! WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”

Jiro gritted her teeth. “I’M STUCK!”

And then—

The threads loosened.

For a brief, impossible moment, they slackened—

And then snapped entirely.

Jiro stumbled forward, nearly falling.

She turned in shock—

And saw him.

Aoyama stood where she had left him, his delicate fingers trembling as they tore at the golden strings binding her.

Each snap sent tremors through his body, and the golden threads cut into his skin, leaving raw, open wounds in their wake.

Yet he didn’t stop.

Didn’t even hesitate.

His face, always so dreamlike and distant, now held something else entirely.

Something warm.

Something real.

“…Merci,” he whispered.

Jiro's breath hitched. “What—”

A harsh yank dragged him backward.

The golden strings, no longer binding her, turned their wrath on him.

His body lurched as the threads wound tighter, pulling him toward the cocoon—

Back inside.

His expression didn’t change.

No fear. No panic.

Only—

Gratitude.

“For asking my name,” he murmured, just as the silk closed over his face.

And then—

He was gone.

Jiro stood frozen, heart hammering.

The room was silent again.

Denki’s voice shook. “Dude… what just happened?”

Jiro clenched her fists.

She couldn't breathe. Not properly. Her lungs felt heavy, her chest tight, as if every inch of her body was in the grip of something unseen, something oppressive. 

And then-

“Jiro…?”

Denki’s voice crackled once again through the phone, dragging her out of her stupor. The urgency in his voice was enough to break through the haze of exhaustion and confusion that clouded her mind.

“Jiro! Are you okay?”

She clutched the phone tighter, bringing it closer to her ear as she tried to steady her breathing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…” Her voice faltered. She didn’t know how to describe what had just happened. How could she? How could she explain the feeling of being pulled in, of being so close to giving in, only to be forced out, shaken and breathless?

“Jiro… what happened? I heard you scream. You need to get out of there. Please.”

“I’m fine,” she finally forced out, though her voice wavered. “I’m going to keep moving. I’ll figure this out.”

“You better. But… Jiro, be careful. I don’t know what this place is, but it’s… it’s messing with your head.”

Jiro exhaled, stepping away from the cocoon that had once held Aoyama. She couldn’t help but glance back one last time, a pang of guilt twisting in her gut. But no, she couldn’t stay. Not after everything.

“I know,” she whispered, more to herself than to Denki. “I’ll get out. I swear.”

And with that, she turned and began walking. Every step felt like it took twice as much effort as the last, like her legs were weighed down by something invisible. She didn’t know if it was the weight of her own thoughts, or the silent pressure of the room that seemed to hold her in place. The walls around her shimmered, distant stars twinkling as if mocking her every move, reminding her of how far away her freedom truly was.

The air felt warmer here, suffocating in a way that made her skin tingle with unease. The plush cushions and soft rugs beneath her feet were an unsettling contrast to the sharpness in her chest. She wanted to get out, but the more she walked, the more it felt like the exit was slipping further and further away.

Her pulse quickened as she approached what should have been the exit. It was at the far end of the room, just beyond the piles of luxurious, yet oppressive, softness. The golden threads still seemed to linger in the air, just out of sight, like the faintest of whispers. She could feel them tugging at her, urging her to stay, to slow down, to sink into the warmth.

But she couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

She took another step, and then another, and then—

She froze.

There was a sound, low and almost imperceptible. The faintest rustling.

Then, a soft flutter.

Her head snapped around, her eyes wide as her heartbeat skipped. The cocoon had shifted. Again.

Jiro’s breath caught in her throat.

The threads were now winding and curling in the air, almost like tendrils of some strange, living thing. The golden strands seemed to pulse with a life of their own, moving toward her with an unrelenting purpose.

Her mind raced. She couldn’t be caught again. Not here. Not now.

But she was frozen in place, watching as the cocoon, once silent and still, began to tremble. Slowly, impossibly slowly, the silk started to unravel.

The figure within the cocoon was emerging again.

Jiro’s stomach dropped.

Aoyama. 

But this time, he wasn’t the same as before. The grace in his movements was gone, replaced by something different. Something raw. His wings—beautiful, shimmering—had unraveled, the golden threads still clinging to him like shackles.

He stepped out of the cocoon, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused, as if the very act of existing here had drained him of everything that made him real. He looked like a ghost, as if he had been part of this place for too long.

Jiro swallowed hard. The breath she had been holding caught in her chest. She couldn’t speak.

Aoyama—or more acurately, his corpse—was looking at her, but there was no recognition in his eyes. No warmth, no gratitude, nothing but an empty, hollow stare that made her skin crawl.

“Yuga…” she whispered, stepping backward, but her legs felt weak, like they were no longer under her control.

He didn’t respond.

And then—

He smiled. A faint, barely perceptible smile, as if the act of smiling had become a forgotten memory, a distant dream.

And that smile—

It chilled her to the bone.

“You…” His voice was softer now, more distant than before. “You were going to leave, weren’t you?”

Jiro swallowed, fighting the urge to look away. She couldn’t break eye contact. Not now. Not when everything inside her was screaming at her to run.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. I need to.”

“But you’re still here,” he murmured, his gaze never wavering. “Why?”

Jiro clenched her fists, fighting the urge to give in to the comfort, to the warmth, to the pull of this place. She had to keep moving. She had to get out.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice strained. “But I’m not staying.”

Yuga’s smile faltered. The golden threads that still clung to his wings trembled slightly, as if they, too, were conflicted. “You don’t have to stay. But you will.”

The words—his voice—echoed in her mind, haunting her. 

Denki’s frantic voice broke through the silence again. “Jiro, please. You need to go NOW!”

The sound of his voice was enough. 

She turned on her heel, her boots making a faint scuffing sound as she sprinted toward the exit.

The moment she moved—

The threads lashed out.

Jiro gasped, her chest tightening as a golden thread wrapped around her ankle, yanking her off her feet.

“No!” she screamed, scrambling to break free. But the threads were everywhere, swarming, latching onto her body, tugging her in every direction.

The panic surged in her chest.

“Jiro?!” Denki shouted. “What’s happening?!”

But she couldn’t answer. Not now. She was too focused on escaping, on breaking free.

She fought against the threads, ripping at them with her hands, desperate to tear them apart. But they wouldn’t give. They wouldn’t break. They were too strong, too unyielding.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she yanked again and again, until—

The threads loosened.

For one fleeting moment, they slackened, and Jiro found herself tumbling forward, almost collapsing on the ground. She gasped, her breath ragged, her chest heaving.

She didn’t wait. She didn’t think.

She ran.

Straight for the exit.

But she wasn’t fast enough.

Another sharp pull dragged her backward, almost lifting her off her feet.

Jiro cried out in frustration, her hands grasping at the threads, trying to tear them off, to free herself.

She had to go. She had to get out.

But—

Aoyama was still there.

And he wasn’t moving.

Not even when the golden threads continued to pull him closer to the cocoon, closer to the place he had once been. His arms trembled as the threads tugged at him, but he didn’t fight. 

“Yuga!” Jiro cried out, her voice breaking. “Please! Don’t!”

But he didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her.

She gritted her teeth, grabbing the threads with all her strenght. She wasn't going to let Yuga's sacrifice to be in vain.

The threads snapped.

They broke. The golden strands unraveled.

Aoyama’s body jerked forward, his wings flapping weakly behind him as he fell to the ground. His expression was still the same—distant, detached. 

And then—

He was gone.

The room was silent once more.

Jiro stood there, trembling, unable to speak.

She didn’t need to. The guilt, the confusion, the weight of what she had just witnessed… it was more than enough to fill the silence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jiro turned toward the exit once more, the way forward still uncertain, still dangerous. 

But she had no choice.

She had to keep moving.