TPMITWON Chapter 63: Ayaka's Explanation

The little girl's hair is straight, a honey-brown color that looks like dried honey. Her eyes are pitch black and appear almost expressionless, like a living porcelain doll.

The little girl is wearing a slightly worn brown long-sleeved jacket at the edges, and beneath the jacket is a simple t-shirt that looks a bit too big. Dark brown pants cover her legs down to her ankles, and her shoes seem to be covered in fine dust.

"Yes," the girl replies flatly, her voice sounding almost toneless as she stands before Tsukimi.

"Alright, Ayaka. You will explain and tell Souta everything he needs to do. Make sure Souta doesn't do anything unnecessary. Understood?" Tsukimi then says.

"Yes." Ayaka nods slowly, like a robot that has just received a command.

"Good. Then you may continue." Tsukimi turns around and walks away, leaving the room with a relaxed demeanor that feels in stark contrast to the stiff atmosphere left behind.

Souta glances at Ayaka and tries to smile again. He steps closer and hesitantly extends his hand. "Hi? My name is Souta," he says, trying to be friendly.

But Ayaka remains silent. Her eyes lock onto Souta's, then slowly drift down to his outstretched hand… before she simply turns away, ignoring Souta like a gentle breeze that isn't worth noticing.

"Come on, follow me," Ayaka says briefly. Her voice still sounds calm, but this time there’s something that makes the hairs on the back of Souta's neck stand up—cold, like a night breeze from behind the old stage.

Souta falls silent, awkwardly lowering his hand. He scratches his head while forcing a stiff smile. "Well... that was a total failure," Souta mutters quietly, then hurriedly follows Ayaka, who has already started walking without looking back.

Ayaka leads Souta up a small staircase at the side of the stage. They now stand right in the middle of the main stage—where performances usually take place. From that position, Souta can see the entire vast imitation performance room.

The dim light from the chandelier illuminates the rows of empty audience seats, while black curtains hang from the ceiling, swaying gently as if breathing on their own. The room is so large, larger than Souta imagined, and for some reason... it feels both silent and filled with faint whispers.

Ayaka points around. Fragments of wooden dolls are scattered like corpses after a battle. Some appear shattered beyond recognition, while others still retain the shapes of hands, feet, or even heads that are intact.

"Your task is to collect these scattered doll parts," Ayaka says bluntly. She bends down and picks something up. "Separate what is truly broken from what can still be reused—like this."

Ayaka shows a piece of a wooden doll's hand. The right hand, perfectly intact without a single scratch. No cracks, no holes. The piece of the doll's right hand looks smooth, as if separated with a very precise tool. It may have come off during a collision, but it is not damaged.

"Parts that are still intact like this must be collected in a separate place. Whether it's hands, feet, heads, or even body parts like the torso—as long as they are still large enough and not severely damaged, separate them from the others. Small parts like fingers, eyes, ears, and nearly shapeless fragments should be thrown into a special trash bin."

Ayaka's tone remains flat, but her explanation is so detailed, almost like reading a technical manual.

Souta then nods his head with a serious expression.