The white line stretched straight into the rubble.
To an ordinary person, it would not look like a path at all.
A toppled vending machine half-blocked the way, store shelves were piled on top of one another, and cables dangling from the ceiling swayed like spiderwebs. The width was just enough for a grown adult to squeeze through with their shoulders hunched.
Yet, to my eyes, that was the only place shining with light.
“Over here!”
Pulling Renta closer into my arms, I plunged into the old store area.
Mio’s sword rang out behind my back.
“I will stall them for two seconds! Go ahead!”
A pale-blue slash pushed back a turnstile-shaped monster.
Immediately after, Mio’s teammates sprang into action.
“I will protect Renta-kun’s head!” “Rear, coming in!” “Drone Number Two, illumination!”
Even amidst the confusion, they were fast at work.
They were not just the hangers-on of some popular streamer. They were properly trained explorers. The moment Mio gave a single order, they understood their roles and moved.
That was precisely why they could survive.
The problem was me.
I was the only one who could fight.
“Minase-san, an arm from the right!”
Mio’s voice rang out.
Reflexively, I almost stopped in my tracks.
But the white line was telling me not to stop.
“Do not stop!”
Shouting at myself, I forced my foot forward.
A black arm grazed my shoulder.
If I had been a second late, it would have grabbed my neck.
My heart throbbed with pain.
Renta clung tightly to my neck.
“Big brother, I am scared.” “It is okay to be scared. Just do not close your eyes.” “Why?” “So that when we get back to the surface, I can make sure we find your mom.”
Renta’s trembling eased just a little bit.
Whenever I guided lost children at the station, I always did it this way.
Instead of lying that everything would be fine, I gave them something next to do.
It was okay to cry. It was okay to tremble.
People could move forward as long as they had a place next to look at.
“Crossing the counter! Asakura-san, drop the shelf on the left!” “Understood!”
Mio knocked down the shelf with the flat of her sword.
The falling shelf entangled the legs of a monster pressing in from behind.
She was strong.
Even when my instructions were rough, she immediately read my intentions.
I make the path. Mio buys the time.
That alone completely changed the movement of the entire party.
“What is this, are monsters not coming?”
One of the male teammates said, gasping for breath.
“It is not that they are not coming. They just have not chosen the path to come down.”
I answered while keeping my eyes on the floor.
To the left and right of the white line, numerous red lines ran across the ground.
Beyond the shelf. Beneath the collapsed floor. The wide, illuminated hallway. At a glance, all of them looked easy to escape through.
Yet they were red.
Step foot into any of them, and you would encounter a trap, a monster, or a secondary collapse.
Only the white line was narrow.
It was so fragile it made you feel uneasy.
Yet, only the white line was alive.
“It is right below here.”
I dropped to one knee beside the toppled vending machine.
A single floor tile was raised.
When I caught it with my fingers and pulled, a rusted metal handle appeared.
“An emergency ticket gate?”
Mio’s eyes widened.
“There is no way something like this is in a place like this. This is the old store district, right?” “I did not know either.” “If you did not know, how can you find it?” “I can see the lines.”
Mio fell silent for a single moment.
That silence reminded me that she was currently live-streaming.
The camera on her shoulder was still active.
On the screen of her terminal, scrolling comments were visible.
Lines? What is this station worker talking about? I saw that drone get crushed, though. Mio-chan, is this guy for real?
Do not read them.
Right now, the white line mattered more than the comments.
“I am opening it.”
I pulled the handle.
It was heavy.
Even when I put strength into my arms, the door moved only a few centimeters.
Combat ability: zero.
At times like this, it made me painfully aware of that fact.
Deep within, a departure bell rang.
Clang, clang, clang.
Close.
Too close.
“Move aside.”
Mio knelt down beside me.
She laid her sword on the floor and grasped the handle with both hands.
“On three!”
Together, we pulled.
The metal shrieked, and the door beneath the floor opened.
A pitch-black vertical shaft.
A ladder resembling the framework of old ticket gates continued downward.
“We are going down here.” “Isn’t this a route that drops into the deep strata?” “It is white.” “That line is only visible to you, right?” “Yes.” “Then there is only one reason to believe you.”
Mio looked back and spoke to her teammates.
“I am going down first. If there are any traps, I will cut them down. Minase-san, take Renta-kun.” “I am going first.”
I said.
Mio raised an eyebrow.
“You cannot fight, can you?” “That is why I am going first. If I lose sight of the line, it is over for everyone.”
I was scared.
My knees were trembling.
My palms were drenched in sweat.
But I was the only one who could stand at the vanguard of the white line.
“Renta-kun.”
I entrusted the boy to Mio.
“Hold onto this big sister for just ten seconds.” “What about big brother?” “I am going ahead to check the path.” “You will not run away?”
The bottom of my chest ached as if it had been stabbed.
I had heard that exact question many times at the station.
Children separated from their parents feared most of all that adults would break their promises.
“I will not run away.”
I lightly tapped Renta’s helmet.
“An attendant guides people through to the very end.”
I placed my foot on the vertical shaft.
A cold wind blew up from below.
The white line traced down the ladder, vanishing into the bottom of the darkness.
I clenched my teeth and climbed down.
One rung. Two rungs. Three rungs.
Metal groaned behind me.
“They are coming!”
A teammate’s voice shouted.
A turnstile-shaped monster thrust its head into the store area.
Clang, clang, clang.
Every time the departure bell rang, black arms extended from the walls.
“Asakura-san, get everyone down!” “I know!”
Mio hugged Renta and stepped onto the ladder.
Right behind her, the teammates followed.
The man at the very rear spoke with a trembling voice.
“Mio-san, the door is closing!”
Looking up, the floor hatch was moving on its own.
The heavy metal plate was slowly beginning to shut.
The tail end of the group had not gotten inside yet.
“Hurry!” “I cannot, my equipment is caught.”
A red line seemed to entangle his shoulder.
He was going to die.
At this rate, he would be the only one left behind.
I climbed the ladder in reverse.
“Minase-san?” “Ditch your equipment! The pouch on your right hip!” “This has my spare battery.” “There are no spare lives!”
The man froze for a single moment, then unbuckled the fastener of his pouch.
The falling pouch was grabbed by a black arm and crushed silently.
Screaming, the man slid into the vertical shaft.
I grabbed the edge of the door.
Heavy.
My fingers felt like they were going to be crushed.
Mio shouted from below.
“Minase-san, give me your hand!”
I jumped down.
Right after, the door slammed shut.
The tip of a black arm was severed, falling beneath the floor and writhing.
Mio cut it down with a single stroke.
“Any injuries?” “My fingers are still attached.” “If you can joke around, you are fine.” “I was not trying to joke.”
The bottom of the vertical shaft connected to a place resembling an old station office room.
Yellowed timetables on the walls. A cracked ticket window. A rusted fare adjustment machine.
And right ahead, old ticket gates lined up in a row.
All of them were closed.
“Where is the exit?”
Mio asked.
I followed the white line.
The line extended to the very edge of the ticket gates.
Yet right above it, a red indicator was flashing.
BLOCKED
There was no width to pass through.
“Here.” “It is closed.” “It will open.” “How?”
I stood before the ticket gates.
Back when I was a station worker, I touched old ticket gates countless times. Training had also drilled the emergency release procedures into me.
But this was an abnormal ticket gate inside a dungeon.
There was no guarantee it would open using normal procedures.
Even so, the white line pointed here.
I unclipped my employee ID card from my waist.
“Are you going to pass through with a station pass?”
Mio asked, half-doubting.
“I am not a station worker anymore. I am just a night attendant.” “Then isn’t it impossible?” “A station is a place that leads lost people back outside.”
Even to myself, I knew it did not sound like proper logic.
Yet, the white line was touching my employee ID.
I pressed the ID card against the ticket gate’s scanner.
Beep-boop.
A familiar error sound.
Everyone’s faces tightened.
The red display grew more intense.
UNAUTHORIZED
My heart sank.
However, the white line had not vanished.
It was still continuing.
I flipped my employee ID card over.
On the back, the emergency contact number of the station underground management company and a small phrase were printed.
If you are in trouble, please ask a staff member.
What a joke.
Yet I had looked at that very phrase every single night.
To the salaryman who sat down drunk, to the weeping child, to the foreign tourist, to the elderly person with dementia.
My job had always been just that, all along.
“There is someone in trouble.”
I spoke toward the ticket gate.
“Open up.”
The white line shone brightly.
Beep.
This time, it was the passage sound.
The gate doors slowly opened.
From beyond them, surface air drifted in.
The scent of dry dust. The scent of convenience store fried food. The exhaust fumes from a distant taxi stand.
It was the smell of the Shinjuku night.
“Everyone, get out!”
Mio ran through, holding Renta.
Her teammates followed.
I remained at the very end, watching to make sure everyone passed through.
Behind me, the departure bell echoed from deep within the vertical shaft.
Clang, clang, clang.
The red line closed in on my feet.
I walked through the ticket gate.
In an instant, my field of vision burst with white.
The next thing I saw was in front of the emergency shutter in the Shinjuku station underground.
Paramedics and security guards came running over.
“Survivors confirmed! There is a child!” “It is Asakura Mio! The streamer party, everyone survived!”
Weeping, Renta embraced a woman who came rushing over.
“Mom!”
The moment I heard that voice, the strength left my knees.
Leaning against the wall, I slumped down and slid to the floor.
Everyone made it out alive.
I did not fight. I did not defeat any monsters.
I simply chose the path.
With just that, we were saved.
“Minase-san.”
Mio stood before me.
The camera on her shoulder was still glowing with a red lamp.
“Who on earth are you?” “A night attendant.” “That is not all there is to it, right?” “That is really all. I cannot fight, and I am slow at running.”
Mio watched me for a while.
Then, she smiled just a little bit.
“But, everyone is alive.”
At those words, the depths of my chest grew warm.
A paramedic draped a blanket over my shoulders.
A staff member holding a terminal rushed over in a panic.
“Mio-san, the stream has not cut off yet! Concurrent viewers have exceeded 150,000!”
The surroundings became noisy and stirred up.
Not understanding what it meant, I looked at Mio’s terminal.
The comment section was scrolling past.
Everyone survived. Station worker, what on earth is he? He said something about a white line. Could the guide class actually not be a junk job? If it was not for this guy, it would have been a total wipeout.
Mio picked up the camera.
“Everyone, sorry to worry you. We are all safe.”
She looked at me once right there.
“And today’s rescuer is not me.”
“Eh?”
I raised my face.
The camera turned toward me.
“It is this person. Minase Toru-san. Night attendant of the Shinjuku station underground. His occupation is…”
The moment Mio started to say it, another white line appeared at my feet.
Beyond the emergency shutter.
It stretched thinly toward the underground passageway that was still blocked off.
I swallowed my breath.
At the tip of the line, someone was still alive.
And right beside them, a red line was slowly approaching.