Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [91]

At the end of the straight corridor inside the escape room, a television appeared before the four of them. An old CRT set—something straight

At the end of the straight corridor inside the escape room, a television appeared before the four of them.

An old CRT set—something straight out of the 1970s and long since out of production.

Just as they stepped into the room, the television flickered to life on its own, as though someone had pressed the power button. Zzzzt! Static filled the screen, startling all four.

But soon enough, the signal stabilized. The screen shifted into black and white and began playing a horror short film: an edited cut of Ju-On.

Unlike the full-length version most people have seen, what played here was disjointed—no context, no setup—just a parade of doomed idiots marching one after another into a cursed house, only to die in bizarre ways. It felt less like a narrative and more like a grim warning left behind by the dead—a reel of raw, unvarnished footage meant to scare off any newcomers.

Kitahara Takeru had, in fact, seen every film in the Ju-On series.

Why would someone so cowardly even watch that stuff? Well, he was cowardly and curious.

Kind of like Lü Dehua gaming: bad at it, but can’t stop playing.

Truth be told, the Japanese really did know how to do horror.

After he finished Ju-On, Takeru never slept with the lights off again.

What made it terrifying was how it shattered his childhood belief: “If I hide under the covers, I’m safe.”

But how could that thing get into the blanket?!

How could the ghost crawl under there and still kill people?!

Wasn’t the blanket supposed to be an impenetrable sanctuary? A barrier even spirits couldn’t cross? That thing had no rules whatsoever.

Humans have laws. Shouldn’t ghosts have ghost laws too? Japanese ghosts really are so rude!

Creeeaaak—

As soon as the film ended and the screen went dark, the wall in front of them cracked open and slowly split apart on both sides.

Staring at the ominous, disheveled room beyond—like a battleground steeped in death—Kitahara Takeru felt a growing sense of unease.

He was willing to forgo the prize money. Could he just leave now?

Feeling the subtle tremor in Takeru’s palm, Kashiwagi Nagisa—who had been a bit nervous herself—rose slightly on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

But Takeru was tall. Even on her toes she couldn’t quite reach, so she leaned partially into his chest and whispered with a slight smile, “Scared?”

“Wh-Who’s scared?! Nagisa, what kind of joke is that? I’m a proud member of the Shijō family—like I’d be scared? Don’t make me laugh!”

“If you’re scared, Nagisa, you can always hide behind me.”

Before Kitahara could respond, Shijō Maki and Tanuma Tsubasa chimed in.

In a space like this—silent, eerie, and cramped—the four of them were holding hands and standing close. No matter how softly Nagisa spoke, the others could still hear.

You did that on purpose, didn’t you.

Takeru shot her a sharp glare.

It’s bad enough you secretly held my hand in front of your boyfriend—now you’re deliberately trying to get him to notice? What next, you want him to watch you get off on it too?

I’m not some bull, you know!

The moment he realized she was treating him like a character in some messed-up roleplay, Takeru’s temper flared. Without caring what she’d think, he forcefully shook her hand off and stepped aside, widening the distance between them.

Kashiwagi Nagisa blinked, a little stunned.

Not because she was upset he let go, but because she hadn’t realized both Tsubasa and Maki could hear her.

With a casual, almost perfunctory tone, she said, “Alright. Thanks.”

“Takeru, if you’re scared, I can protect you too,” Shijō Maki added lightly. “I’ll allow you to stand in front of me, okay?”

You sure you're not just trying to use me as a human shield?

Takeru didn’t bother exposing her bluff.

Whether he was protecting her or the other way around, he didn’t feel like getting into it.

Still, the little scene had taken the edge off his fear.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“No need—”

BOOM!!!

Before Maki could finish, a deafening crash came from upstairs.

Takeru, who had just started to calm down, immediately tensed again.

“Ahhh!!”

Maki let out a shriek. Her calves went weak, and she clung tightly to Tanuma Tsubasa’s arm to keep herself from collapsing.

Tsubasa had been startled by the noise too.

But more alarming was Maki’s vice grip—where had she gotten that strength?

She struggled to open soda bottles half the time, but now it felt like she was crushing his bones.

“Nagisa, don’t—”

Tsubasa instinctively turned to Kashiwagi Nagisa, but the moment he saw her, his pupils shrank.

Nagisa was huddled against Watanabe Takeru’s chest, trembling like a frightened quail.

Tall and imposing meets small and delicate—honestly, they looked kind of good together.

If only that girl wasn’t his girlfriend.

Kitahara was the first to notice Tsubasa’s look. He gently patted Nagisa’s shoulder and said, “Kashiwagi-san, I know I look a lot like your boyfriend, but you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Tsubasa exhaled a small breath of relief.

Right. The first time he’d seen Watanabe Takeru, even he was taken aback. It was pitch-black in here—easy mistake to make.

…Right?

Even if the sourness lingered in his chest, this was the only way Tsubasa could console himself.

Just make do. What else can I do?

If you want to survive in this world, sometimes you have to accept the green.

It’s not like breaking up is an option, right?

After all, the fact that he’d confessed to Nagisa in the first place meant he truly liked her.

The jealousy you can’t express burns the most. The one who falls first always loses.

He was the one who confessed. He was the one who fell first. But the one who confesses is never the one in control.

“…Mm.”

Nagisa didn’t say much. Her cheeks flushed as she looked down and played with her bangs.

She didn’t dare tell Kitahara the truth: she’d genuinely been scared just now.

The atmosphere already had her on edge. Then came that huge crash, and Maki’s sudden scream—it would’ve startled anyone.

It was like watching a horror film with friends: the movie itself isn’t that scary. It’s your friends who scream next to you that really make you jump.

This time, it was 100% Maki’s fault.

Keep acting, sure. You must be from the Barça Academy of Performing Arts or something.

Nagisa had truly been frightened. But thanks to Takeru’s assumptions and his preconceived notions about her, he thought she was just pretending.

“I’ll, uh, go check upstairs first.”

Takeru found an excuse to extract himself.

Better to be alone for a bit than stick around here.

Besides, haunted houses only had a limited bag of tricks. Worst case, some staffer would jump out in a costume and chase him around.

If it was a person, he had nothing to be afraid of.

Worst case, one solid elbow to the ribs and they’d be down.

If one elbow didn’t work, he’d give them two.

Halfway up the stairs, Takeru suddenly caught a pungent, putrid stench in the air.

He’d read too many dismemberment case files. His brain immediately conjured a vivid mental image.

It was so disturbingly lifelike that he froze in place, heart pounding wildly.

He looked up the stairs, then down again.

Suddenly, it didn’t feel that awkward anymore.

If he wasn’t embarrassed, then the awkward one was someone else.

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This is a fan translation of 不是说只拿我当替身的吗？by 雪碧加冰. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!