The Sinner

Jiro’s eyes fluttered open, the unfamiliar weight of her surroundings pulling her from unconsciousness. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, a silence that pressed against her ears like a suffocating blanket. 

She sat up quickly, eyes scanning her surroundings. She didn’t recognize where she was. The comforting sound of Denki’s voice, which had kept her tethered to reality during the last few rings, was gone. Panic tightened her chest as she realized: Where is he? Her hand instinctively reached for her phone—only to find that it was gone. The sense of isolation in that moment was absolute. She was alone, lost again.

“Denki?” she called out, her voice cracked, hoarse from exhaustion. “Denki?!” Her words echoed through the hollow space, but there was no reply. Just silence.

Jiro stumbled to her feet, scanning the surroundings in a frantic search. Her breath quickened as she took in the twisted landscape around her. The walls of the room were adorned with dark, intricate patterns that twisted and shifted in unsettling ways. The floor beneath her was soft, almost too soft, as though it was made of a strange, velvety substance that made it feel like she was sinking into it with every step.

But the most unnerving part of the room was the figures that lingered just out of her direct line of sight. She caught glimpses of them from the corner of her eyes: moving shapes that didn’t quite belong, the flickers of something unsettling. And then she realized. They weren’t people—at least, not in the way she knew them. They were... something else. Inhuman, but desperately human at the same time.

Her thoughts spiraled, a frantic scramble as she tried to piece together what was happening. The sixth ring.

It hit her then, the realization that she was in Envy.

She froze, the knowledge crashing into her like a wave. This was the sixth ring—the realm of envy, where the very nature of jealousy and longing twisted every interaction. She couldn’t help but feel it seep into her bones, the longing for things she hadn’t even fully understood yet. The desperation to have what others had, to feel what others felt, was all-encompassing. I’m not supposed to be here. I don’t belong here, Jiro thought, fighting the suffocating pull of it.

A voice broke her concentration, a whisper that sounded like a call—but not from Denki. It was different, almost... pleading. She turned quickly, her heart pounding in her chest. There was someone there. Or something. The figures she had glimpsed earlier were now approaching her, one of them stepping out from the shadows and into her direct line of sight.

It was a grotesque creature—stitched together, its body disjointed in places, as though someone had pieced it together from parts of different beings. The figure had two faces, one in the front and another on the back of its head. They were both twisted in expressions of desperation, like someone pleading for her to understand something she didn’t.

Jiro stumbled back, her hands raised instinctively, feeling a cold shiver crawl up her spine as the creature drew closer.

"You are here..." one of the voices whispered, the sound dripping with longing, with something else. Desire? Envy? Jiro couldn't tell, but it made her stomach turn.

"Stay away from me!" Jiro yelled, shaking her head, backing away with every step. The sound of her own voice felt so small, so insignificant against the strange, hollow murmurs that filled the room.

The creature reached toward her, its fingers twitching in the air like they wanted to touch her, to pull her into its web of yearning. Jiro instinctively stepped back faster, but her body was still weak, and her mind was still fogged with exhaustion from the previous rings. She stumbled, nearly falling, but just managed to catch herself before she hit the floor.

“Denki!” she cried again, voice breaking. There was no answer, but she knew somehow—she knew—he was no longer there to help her. He was gone.

The creature’s mouths—both of them—opened wide, calling to her, pulling at her mind. “You,” it hissed. “You have what we want.” The voice dripped with jealousy, with a hunger that made Jiro’s skin crawl. “Give it to us...”

Jiro’s heart hammered in her chest. She couldn’t give it to them. Not her name, not now. But she felt it—a pull in her chest, something inside her stretching, wanting to break free, wanting to be heard.

She couldn’t stay here.

With one last desperate glance at the creature, Jiro turned and ran. Her legs were heavy, her body weak, but she forced herself forward. She had to find an exit, something, anything to escape this place before it consumed her. Before it made her envy something she didn’t even want.

But as she ran, her thoughts were filled with one unrelenting fear: What if I lose myself here too?

Jiro's legs burned as she pushed herself forward, the strange sensation of being followed gnawing at her from behind. Her breath was ragged, her heart racing, but she kept running, desperate for escape. The room—the entire place—felt suffocating. The strange, stitched creatures she had encountered before had been lurking in the shadows, but now, the air seemed heavier, as if the weight of their jealousy was pressing down on her.

As she sprinted forward, she heard it—the unmistakable sound of someone tripping, a brief, sharp rustle of fabric followed by a soft thud. She stopped in her tracks, spinning around to face the source of the sound. Through the haze of dim, flickering light, she saw two (or one?) figures stumbling toward her, their movements jerky and frantic.

Her eyes widened as she realized what they were: stitched beings—but these were different. They weren’t twisted, grotesque creatures like the ones she had encountered before. They were... familiar, in a way that made her stomach turn. They clung to each other, hands intertwined, holding on as if their very existence depended on the other’s touch.

Jiro froze for a moment, watching them with a strange mix of awe and jealousy. They were together, united—something she had longed for. A sense of belonging. But that longing quickly twisted into resentment. Denki wasn’t here. He wasn’t there to hold onto her when she needed him. The thought of him, alone in whatever ring he was now trapped in, made her chest tighten with a bitter, uncontrollable pang.

Without thinking, she shouted, “Who are you?”

The two figures froze at the sound of her voice, their eyes darting toward her. The one with the mouth on the back of its head hissed, and the other—its counterpart—squeezed its hand tighter around the other’s. They stared at Jiro for a long moment, their eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and something else—hunger, maybe.

“We... are the same,” one of them whispered. The words were soft, yet they sent a chill through Jiro. “We don’t need anything else but each other.”

Jiro felt a surge of jealousy course through her veins, her fists clenching at her sides. She took a step forward, the words coming out before she could stop herself. “I want to know your names. I need to know who you are.”

The figures exchanged a glance, and for a moment, the air seemed to shift. Their eyes softened, just barely, before they both spoke in unison.

“We are Envy,” one said, and the other continued, “And we need no more.”

Jiro’s heart skipped a beat. But she couldn’t focus on that right now. The weight of their words was sinking in, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something about them—about them together—was wrong. Ached. It made the jealousy she had been feeling surge again, like a dark wave crashing against her mind.

She shook her head, trying to push the feelings away. “Where’s the exit?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the tension that hung in the air.

The two figures didn’t hesitate. The one who had been holding its counterpart’s hand now slowly pulled away, its face morphing into something more intense, more focused. It took a step toward her, raising a hand in the direction of the far wall.

“Up. It’s on the roof,” the figure spoke calmly, its voice almost soothing in a way that made Jiro’s pulse quicken. “We can take you there.”

Jiro felt a spark of hope. The roof. Maybe this was it. The way out. But as she looked at them—looked at them together, holding onto each other like they shared the same soul—a flicker of doubt crept into her heart. Something about this didn’t feel right. She furrowed her brow, narrowing her eyes as she stared at the two rulers.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, her voice wavering with suspicion. "You don’t need me. Why would you take me to the exit?”

The two rulers glanced at each other once more, a moment of shared understanding passing between them. Then, without a word, they both nodded in unison. It was as though they had decided something in that silent exchange. One of them spoke, its voice low, almost tender.

“We don’t need you,” the ruler said quietly, “But we understand. We know what it’s like to want to be free.”

The other figure stepped closer to Jiro, its gaze softening for the first time since she had seen them.

"You don’t have to be alone," the ruler continued, its voice steady. "We’re here, and we can help you. The exit’s not for you alone, it’s for us too, just as it was for the others."

Jiro felt a cold shiver run down her spine. They weren’t just offering her a way out. They were a part of the exit too. It was like their existence was tied to it in some dark, unspoken way. But they weren’t lying. She could see it in their eyes—they didn’t need her, but they knew she couldn’t survive here alone. She would have to rely on them, if only for a moment.

Jiro took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Fine,” she said, voice firm, though it trembled with uncertainty. “I’ll go. Lead me to the roof.”

The rulers nodded, their hands reaching for hers, and for the first time since she had arrived in the sixth ring, she didn’t feel completely alone. But that feeling didn’t last long.

As they led her toward the exit.

Jiro frowned, her steps slowing as she walked with the two rulers. Something about this was wrong. They weren’t trying to trick her, weren’t trying to lure her into some kind of trap or steal something from her like the others had. It was... odd. Every ruler before them had wanted something. But these two? They were just leading her to the exit, almost like it didn’t matter to them.

She narrowed her eyes. Why?

“…Why aren’t you trying anything?” she finally asked, her voice sharp with suspicion. “Why help me without trying to take something first?”

The rulers stopped in their tracks, glancing at each other with a knowing look. Then, the blonde one smirked. “Oh, we don’t want you,” he said simply, his voice carrying an air of mockery. “You’re already ruined.”

Jiro’s breath hitched. “What?”

The other ruler—the messy-haired one—sighed, rolling his eyes. “He means those stains on you.” He gestured vaguely at her body. “We don’t want something tainted.”

Jiro’s mind reeled, confusion swirling into unease. She looked down at herself, scanning for any sign of what they were talking about—then she saw it. Small, dark stains on her skin, dried into her clothes. The black droplets.

Her stomach twisted. When had those appeared?

The blonde ruler clicked his tongue, shaking his head in amusement. “Pathetic,” he mocked. “Wrath staining someone just to protect them? How lame.” He crossed his arms, smirking down at her. “And even marking someone but not claiming them? What kind of weak resolve is that?”

The messy-haired ruler let out a short laugh, turning toward his counterpart with a sneer. “Says you,” he shot back. “The only reason you got here was because I stained you first.” His words were laced with venom, and for a brief moment, the blonde ruler’s smirk twitched—almost like the remark had stung.

Jiro barely processed their bickering before the other one turned back to her. “You don’t get it, do you?” he mused, tilting his head. “For Wrath to protect you without claiming you… He must’ve sacrificed something big. Something huge.”

Jiro’s breath caught in her throat. Her body suddenly felt cold, her vision tunneling as their words sank in.

Sacrificed.

Something big.

Jiro’s stomach lurched. Denki.

Her entire body locked up. Her chest tightened, the weight of realization crashing down on her all at once.

Denki sacrificed himself. He gave something up for her.

“No…” The word barely left her lips, weak and broken. Her legs wobbled. Her breaths turned shallow.

The rulers simply watched, their eyes glimmering with amusement.

“Ohhh, she’s figuring it out,” the blonde one mused, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

The other one let out a breathy chuckle, watching as Jiro’s body trembled. “Look at that,” he murmured. “Finally breaking down.”

Jiro’s hands flew to her head, fingers tangling in her hair as she gasped for air. It couldn’t be true. He was supposed to be on the other end of the line, guiding her, keeping her awake. He was supposed to be there. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t.

And she hadn’t even noticed.

A strangled sob escaped her throat, and that’s when the rulers truly smiled.

“Ah, now this is entertaining,” the blonde one hummed.

The messy-haired one nodded in satisfaction. “Much better.”

Their laughter echoed around her, sharp and cruel, but Jiro barely heard them. Her mind was still stuck on Denki. On what he must’ve done. On the fact that he was gone, and she didn’t even get to—

Her breath hitched again. The walls around her blurred. The weight of everything threatened to crush her.

Somewhere between their laughter, the blonde ruler leaned in close, his lips curling into a smirk.

“As a reward for such a lovely performance,” he purred, “I suppose we can give you our real names.”

Jiro barely lifted her head, but they didn’t wait for a response.

“Monoma.”

“Shinsou.”

Their names rang in her ears, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

They were still laughing as they reached the door.