“Okay, look,” Cha began, standing. “None of us should believe anything that is going on here, alright. And I have three reasons as to why we’re all wrong to assume that it’s something supernatural. One,” he held up his pointer finger, “We’re all very tired. None of us have been sleeping all that well here, for whatever reason, and we were all very busy up until the day we left to come here. Two: I have personally walked around all the hallways I wanted to until I got bored and discovered that every single one of the doors and nearly half of the floorboards are warped. When they get hot, they expand. When they get cold, they contract. During the day, it’s hot but during the night, it gets cold. This is middle school chemistry. Three: we all have very, very elaborate imaginations and they play up to the first two reasons I gave as to why none of us should believe we’re seeing anything out of the ordinary.” He dropped his hands back down to the table’s surface. “All of that, and the fact that I think this is all a crock of shit.”

Gackt couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “‘A crock of shit,’ huh?” Turning to Cha he asked, straight-faced, “Is that a Buddhist term, or…?”

“You know what? Fuck you,” Cha shot back, but his voice lacked any sort of anger.