1
"Ugh... mmm..."
The first thing that Shiranami Aima saw upon waking up was a luxurious chandelier.
He sat up and looked around his surroundings.
Aima had been lying on a lavish red carpet. The room was about the size of a school classroom, with an atmosphere resembling that of a medieval castle. There were stuffed animal toys on a shelf, and the coffee cups on the table had cute floral patterns, giving the whole place a fairy-tale-like ambiance.
On the wall, there was a large horizontal frame, white in color. Inside it was a plain white sheet of paper, with no picture.
––Where am I?
This was a place he had never seen before. Why was he here?
Aima tried to recall his memories. He was still a bit confused, so he lightly reflected on the events of the day.
He had woken up last, as usual, with his family. After hastily changing into his uniform, he went to the living room and said, "Good morning." His parents returned the greeting, but his younger step-sister ignored him as she ate breakfast. He then headed to school—Chiba Prefectural Ginyoku High School. After attending classes in Class 2-F for the day, he didn’t talk to anyone during the break and left the school gates, heading home.
A day so uneventful that it could be summed up in just four lines in a story. For a high school boy, it felt almost too quiet, lacking in any events, which made it seem somewhat lonely. However, for Aima, it was an ordinary day, and an endearing one at that.
The crack in that everyday routine appeared on his way home.
On a warm May afternoon, he was walking down his usual route home, peacefully as always. But looking back now, he realized there had been hardly anyone around.
As he waited for the traffic light to turn green at the crosswalk, a black van suddenly slid into view and stopped right in front of him.
"…?"
Clearly, his path had been obstructed, and Aima furrowed his brows slightly.
As he watched, puzzled, the side door of the van opened, and two women dressed in Gothic Lolita fashion stepped out.
"…"
Their long silver hair, styled in fluffy perms, matched exactly. They wore white masks on their faces, and because their attire and the masks resembled those of women, Aima recognized them as "women," though their actual gender remained uncertain.
The two women stood on either side of Aima, effectively trapping him.
"Um, what do you want...?"
Aima asked, but the two women remained silent. One of them moved behind him and pressed a cloth to his mouth. His consciousness slowly started to fade.
This is bad, they must've drugged me, was the last thought he had before his memory was cut off.
He probably fell unconscious after that and was brought here, only to wake up in this place.
Aima glanced around the room once more.
In the room, aside from Aima, there were about ten other people. Some were elderly, others seemed to be around the age of high school students, and their genders varied. It felt as though random people had been picked up from the town and shoved into this box.
Aima was curious about the others' reactions. If they had been brought here in the same way he had, they must have been forcibly put to sleep and brought here. Yet, they all seemed strangely calm. With this many people, it wouldn't be surprising if at least one person had started causing a commotion, but...
"Huh?"
A girl in a school uniform walked toward Aima.
"You're Shiranami, right?"
"...Okishima?"
Aima knew her name.
Okishima Nanaka. A fellow second-year student in Class 2-F at Ginyoku High School, just like Aima. She had beautifully bleached blonde hair, and her uniform was worn with a refined sense of style—she was the quintessential top-tier girl in the school social hierarchy. On the other hand, Aima, with his dark and brooding personality, was the typical "introverted" type, so it was unthinkable that he would ever have a conversation with someone like Nanaka. This was the first time they were actually talking.
"I never thought I'd end up with someone from the same class. So, what’s up? Is it that you’re after money too, Shiranami?"
She greeted him with a bright, friendly smile, speaking to him casually. However, her expression seemed slightly stiff, and she appeared to be a little nervous.
A familiar feeling washed over Aima. At that moment, he couldn't quite place what it was. His curiosity about Nanaka’s words took precedence over the sense of nostalgia he was feeling.
"Money?"
Aima repeated the question, and Nanaka gave him a puzzled look.
"Huh? You didn’t come here because you want money?"
"Does coming here mean we get money?"
"Yeah, don’t you know? You’re in a suspicious place like this, and you didn’t even know that?"
The other people in the room were now looking over at Aima and Nanaka. From the way they were staring, it seemed that everyone else, unlike Aima, had come here willingly.
"I think I was brought here by mistake."
Aima said, and Nanaka tilted her head.
"Is that even possible?"
"Then how did you end up here, Okishima? Did you find information online or something?"
"No, this isn’t the kind of place you’d find info about online. Well... let me explain."
Nanaka began to tell her story.
She had been sitting on a bench at the park, daydreaming, when a Gothic Lolita woman wearing a mask came up to her. She thought the woman was quite suspicious, but the woman told her that if she played a game of Old Maid and won, she would get money. Since she was bored, Nanaka decided to play, and when she won, the woman really did give her money.
Afterward, the woman introduced her to this place as a spot where she could make even more money and gave her an invitation.
"I was really surprised when I was put to sleep as soon as I got to the meeting spot, though. I guess they didn’t want anyone knowing where this place was."
Nanaka said with a relaxed laugh.
In the midst of the clearly abnormal situation, her cheerful attitude felt like a refreshing breath of air.
At that moment, a sound echoed through the room.
Bzzt.
It was the noise that could be heard when the broadcasting equipment was switched on.
"Good evening, everyone~"
A voice came from the ceiling. At the same time, a video appeared on the white frame from earlier. It seemed that the frame was designed to look like part of the room's decor but was actually a monitor.
The figure shown on the monitor was cloaked in black attire. They wore a hooded robe and a white mask, their body concealed by the robe, making it difficult to determine their height or gender. They looked like a suspicious figure.
"Thank you all for gathering, especially with your busy schedules~"
The voice, distorted through a voice changer, had an unusual, hoarse quality, and the speaker's gender was still unclear. The tone was casual, almost unnervingly familiar.
"Now, everyone will play a game. If you win, you’ll be paid money. Please take a look over there~"
The ceiling opened, revealing a giant piggy bank. It was transparent, and inside, bundles of ten-thousand-yen bills were packed tightly.
"The contents will be split among those who win. If everyone clears the game, everyone gets a share. If anyone drops out, the remaining share will increase for the others~"
"In other words, if someone is kicked out, the share increases, right…?"
Nanaka muttered something ominous.
A tense atmosphere filled the room as hostile glares exchanged among the people present.
It was a fitting atmosphere for those gathered for money—cold and ruthless.
It was the complete opposite of the peaceful ordinary life Aima cherished. He clearly felt out of place here.
"Um..."
Aima raised his right hand.
"Yes~? Do you have a question?"
"It’s not exactly a question, but... it seems I ended up here by mistake. I’m not interested in the game or the money, so... can I leave?"
"Sorry, but it's impossible to end up here by mistake. And even if you did, once you're here, you must participate in the game."
His request was flatly rejected without hesitation.
What should I do...?
Aima thought for a moment, then quickly came to a decision.
"Well then, I'll just leave on my own."
Aima began walking toward the door. There was no need to accommodate their plans. They had no right to make him comply, and he had no obligation to obey them.
Then,
Bang!
With a dry sound, a hole was blown through Aima's forehead.
Red blood shot out, and slowly, Aima's body crumpled.
The sound of his fall was absorbed by the carpet, and Aima quietly collapsed onto his back. Red blood spread across the white floor.
The participants stared at Aima's form, then shifted their gaze to the spot where the gunshot had come from—the wall.
A panel in the wall had shifted, and the barrel of a gun was now visible. It seemed the bullet had been fired from there.
The air in the room froze, and everyone there was left speechless. For the people living in modern Japan—a society where guns didn't exist—that scene felt far too surreal.
"Kyahhhhhhhhhhh!!"
After a long pause, Nanaka was the first to process what had just happened, letting out a high-pitched scream.
Her shriek set off a chain reaction, and the other people began to stir.
"Wait, what? Is... is he really dead?"
"Hey, this is a movie shoot or something, right?"
Even though they were witnessing a person fall and blood pouring out, most of them couldn’t seem to accept the reality of the situation.
"Well, this is perfect. Please be careful, everyone. I am the game master. Here, I am the rule. Anyone who defies me will die."
The room fell completely silent, as though water had been poured over it.
It was at this moment that everyone gathered realized they had unknowingly become part of a horrifying game.
"Once again, welcome, everyone, to our participatory game event, 'Hate Breeder'~!"
2
Gothic Lolita-clad staff members began filing into the room. They were dressed exactly the same as the ones who had picked up the participants in the black van.
The staff carried in a black wooden coffin. Polished with varnish, it gleamed as they carelessly tossed Aima's lifeless body into it, closed the lid, and hammered in nails to seal it. Then, they carried the coffin out of the room.
During this time, no one spoke a word.
Some were trembling. Some stared blankly at the scene. Others sobbed quietly… Each stood still in a heavy, gloomy silence.
"Now that the nuisance is taken care of, let’s move on to the game ♪ Let's go to the next location~."
With the game master's command, the Gothic Lolita-masked staff entered the room again. Led by them, the participants exited the room.
As they walked through the mansion-like hallway, they arrived at an open square.
A field of flowers stretched out before them.
Perhaps they were rapeseed flowers, yellow blooms scattered across the land. The area was surrounded by walls, but the ceiling was open, revealing the blue sky. The walls were painted with the same flowers as in the field, and in the distance, a horizon could be seen, making it look like a wide open meadow at first glance.
However, the massive daruma figure sitting at the opposite end of the field gave the place an eerie atmosphere, making it feel far from an ordinary open space.
It was called a daruma, but it wasn’t the typical red, round, squat one. Its round shape resembled that of a daruma, but the design was of a black cat with two ears. Its yellow eyes glared ominously, and its mouth curled into a creepy grin.
In front of the daruma, red flowers were lined up in a straight row, as if drawn with a line.
"Round one is 'Daruma-san ga Koronda'~."
The game master's voice echoed from the speakers.
"Everyone here looks Japanese at first glance, so I guess explaining the rules would be a bit unnecessary. But just to be fair, I’ll explain them anyway~. There might be some returnees from abroad or people of Japanese descent, right~?"
The daruma slowly turned its back to the participants.
"While saying 'Daruma-san ga Koronda,' the daruma will face you all."
"Daruma~ga~~~"
A childlike voice, neither male nor female, echoed through the venue. It seemed as though a speaker was attached to the daruma's head, as the voice came from there.
"While I’m saying this, everyone should try to move forward as much as possible. If you move after I finish speaking, you’ll be disqualified. If you manage to cross the red line without losing, you’ll clear the game~."
"Is this really just such an easy game?"
"It was nerve-wracking before, but this seems like a piece of cake."
The atmosphere among the participants loosened.
Although they had been shaken when they saw the boy who defied the rules get shot earlier, they now seemed to feel reassured that as long as they followed the rules, they’d be fine.
"Talking is slower than just showing you, so let's do a demonstration~."
A magic circle appeared on the ground, and a humanoid figure slowly emerged from the earth.
It looked like one of the staff members. As usual, she was dressed in Gothic Lolita, with silver hair and a white mask.
"Daruma~ga~~~"
The staff member began running in sync with the daruma’s voice.
Then,
"Koronda!"
This time, unlike before, the daruma suddenly spoke quickly and turned around at high speed. The staff member, flustered, tried to stop but still moved slightly after the daruma had turned.
"Shikkaku~♪"
The daruma cheerfully declared and then opened its massive mouth.
From within emerged a gigantic gun barrel.
DADADADADADA!
Flashes of gunfire erupted from the barrel, unleashing a hail of bullets upon the staff member. Their body was shredded to pieces, collapsing on the spot.
There was no blood.
Between the severed limbs and tattered clothing, clockwork mechanisms and gears were exposed. It became clear to the participants that the staff members were merely dolls. But that realization did nothing to ease their fear.
The room fell deathly silent.
It was at this moment that the participants understood the true meaning of "disqualification." They finally grasped the horrifying reality—this prize-winning competition was, without a doubt, a death game.
If a human were to be caught in that gunfire, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
And avoiding such a storm of bullets? That was beyond human capability.
Disqualification meant death.
"N-no… No way! I can’t do this!!"
A woman stumbled backward, then turned to flee.
"Don’t!"
Okishima Nanaka grabbed her arm.
"Let go of me!"
"I won’t! Did you already forget what happened to that boy just now!? If you try to run, they’ll kill you too!"
The woman gasped.
Her legs gave out beneath her, and she crumpled to the floor, sobbing.
"No… I don’t want this… I don’t want this…"
"Damn it… They didn’t say anything about this," a man groaned, clutching his head as he crouched down.
"Heh… Looks like I’m surrounded by a bunch of weaklings," another man smirked quietly.
The only thing the participants had in common was their need for money.
Beyond that, they were a melting pot of differences—gender, age, social class, and background. That’s why their reactions varied when they witnessed death firsthand and realized they had entered a death game.
A diverse mix of participants, each reacting differently to the horror unfolding before them…
Watching them struggle, panic, and scheme—that was the true essence of this death game, Hate Breeder.
Somewhere in a separate VIP lounge, a group of elite spectators was likely sipping their drinks while observing the chaos unfold on massive monitors.
With each person carrying their own thoughts and intentions, the game was about to begin.
—Or so it seemed.
"……"
The daruma remained silent.
"Uh… wasn’t the game supposed to start?"
The woman who had been crying earlier muttered.
"That’s what I thought… but…"
Even Nanaka looked confused.
The participants stood frozen, watching the silent daruma and the shattered remains of the gothic lolita automaton.
The game showed no signs of beginning, but without any clear instructions, nobody dared to move.
3
The scene rewinds slightly in time.
The gothic lolita-clad staff—automatons—were silently carrying the coffin containing Shiranami Aima.
They proceeded down a hallway, descending a flight of stairs.
At the bottom lay the underground level—a stark contrast to the opulence above. The space was built of exposed stone, the air damp and heavy with humidity. Dim lights, shaped like torches, cast flickering shadows, adding to the dungeon-like atmosphere.
As they moved forward, they arrived at the crematorium.
The room was circular, lined with numerous furnace doors set into the walls. Heat radiated from the furnaces, making the chamber oppressively hot—unbearable for any living human after just a few minutes.
Just as the gothic lolita automatons entered the crematorium—
Bang!
A loud noise shook Aima’s coffin.
The automaton staff halted in their tracks.
"Oi, hold it properly," one of them chided, nudging another.
"Sorry… but I swear something inside just moved."
"Don’t be ridiculous. He was completely killed. Bullet to the forehead, straight through the brainstem. We even confirmed he had no pulse."
One of the gothic lolita automatons snapped in irritation.
And yet—
Bang! Bang!
The coffin shook violently once more.
"It moved!!"
The gothic lolita automatons all cried out at once, letting go of the coffin in unison.
Thud!
The heavy box crashed onto the stone floor.
But even after falling, it continued thrashing about, rattling loudly.
Bang! Bang! BangBangBangBang!!
And then—
With an earsplitting boom, the coffin lid flew off.
"W-what the…?"
The gothic lolita automatons watched in horror.
From within the coffin, Aima sat up, raising his upper body. Slowly, he stood.
"!?!!?"
In an instant, the automatons leaped back, putting distance between themselves and the coffin.
Aima, however, remained composed, his eyes scanning them calmly.
The blood that had trailed from his forehead down to the back of his head had completely dried. It still left dark stains on his skin, yet the wound itself had vanished without a trace. His unbroken skin made it seem as though he had merely smeared fake blood over himself.
"...I can't believe that actually killed me. The bodies in this world are surprisingly fragile. Though I let my guard down."
Aima muttered to himself as he casually scratched the spot where the wound had been with his index finger. Then, without hesitation, he stepped over the edge of the coffin and climbed out.
"The guy we killed just came back to life!?"
"No—no, we must've botched the job!!"
"What do we do!?"
"Contact the Game Master!!"
The gothic lolita automatons, flustered, pressed their hands to their ears, where earpieces with attached microphones were.
"What's going on~?"
"Master, the boy we killed came back to life! Please look at monitor 53!"
"...!? What do you mean!? Just kill him already. There is no one who can defy me and live!"
The gothic lolita automatons raised their dominant hands in unison. Magic circles appeared, summoning weapons such as swords, spears, axes, and guns.
"I didn’t want to escalate things, but I guess I have no choice. It’s a death game, after all. If I leave it be, it’ll just give me a bad feeling later."
Aima stood calmly, watching the automatons with a nonchalant expression.
Without hesitation, the automatons lunged at him all at once.
But all their attacks missed.
Swords and axes cleaved through the air, spears cut through the wind, and bullets pierced the walls.
As Aima’s form vanished from their line of sight.
"Above!"
Only the Game Master, monitoring the room, knew Aima’s location and yelled out to the automatons.
By the time the command reached them, Aima had already landed behind the automaton with a sword. Using the momentum from his fall, he delivered a sharp chop. With a wet crack, his hand struck the automaton’s body, crushing it.
The damaged automaton twisted its body painfully, trying to swing its sword at Aima, but he immediately crouched to dodge and grabbed its torso. Lifting it effortlessly, he hurled it backward.
The automaton with the sword flew directly into the path of another, whose axe came down and sliced it cleanly in half.
In that moment of distraction, Aima leapt into the air and grabbed the head of the stationary automaton with the axe still raised. With a twist of his body and his right foot pressed firmly on its shoulder, he yanked the head off with a sharp pull, along with its inorganic spinal cord.
In the blink of an eye, two of the gothic lolita automatons were destroyed. Using spinning kicks, elbow strikes, and powerful punches, Aima took down the remaining automatons one by one, each falling with a single blow.
It took less than five minutes for the entire group of gothic lolita automatons to be wiped out.
"...."
Aima looked down at his hands. His fists, having repeatedly struck the automatons’ tough bodies, were now bruised and bleeding from the torn skin.
"They’re still so fragile. My muscles and tendons are torn from the exertion. Back then, I wouldn’t have destroyed them so easily... even if I had, they would’ve regenerated on their own."
He muttered as he stretched his shoulders and neck.
"It’s a bit troublesome, but if I apply Self-Regeneration while moving, it shouldn’t be a problem. I can use Hardening on my hands and turn them into weapons..."
"W-Who are you... really...?"
"...Oh, I’m nothing to worry about. Just someone who came from far away."
"Far away?"
Aima crouched down and grabbed the head of a gothic lolita automaton that still had some breath left.
"Magical automaton. Pseudo-personality model. I should be able to hack this."
A magic circle unfolded on his palm, and the automaton’s eyes began to glow.
"I can read its thoughts. Wait a moment, I’ll be there soon."
4
"What is this!? Why hasn’t it started!"
"Do you know how much we’ve bet!?"
In the separate room—the lavish space where the VIPs had gathered—it was in an uproar.
The VIPs had come to observe the death game while placing bets. If the game didn’t start, there was no point to their presence.
"Everyone! I apologize!! There has been an issue, and I urgently ask that you vacate this room immediately…!"
The game master on the monitor spoke, but…
"Vacate? Don’t be ridiculous!"
"You all can use magic, right? Just do something about it!"
The VIPs voiced their anger.
This brief delay proved to be fatal for them.
"So, this is the VIP room?"
A boy appeared in the room. His forehead and hands were covered in blood, his hair messy, and his clothes were filthy, but despite his appearance, he radiated vitality. To the VIPs, that vitality was nothing less than the immense magical power leaking from his body, so strong that even those who couldn’t use magic felt its pressure.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Hey, that’s one of the participants!"
"Huh? Is that the kid who got shot first? Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?"
The VIPs bickered.
Ignoring them, Aima raised his right hand and summoned a magic circle.
"<Confinement>"
Ropes made of light wrapped around the bodies of the VIPs, restraining them. The light ropes then solidified and transformed into fabric ropes.
Ignoring the panicked faces of the VIPs, Aima proceeded into the inner room.
"—Did I miss them?"
He kicked open the door and entered, but there was no one inside.
This was the game master's room.
According to the map Aima had obtained by reading the thoughts of the Gothic Lolita dolls, this room was located behind the VIP room. Enemies or traitors attempting to reach this room would need to pass through the VIP room, meaning they would have to encounter decoys along the way.
There was likely an exit from this room that the Gothic Lolita dolls didn’t know about. However, Aima had already deduced all of that, and it no longer mattered to him.
Aima looked at the terminal on the game master's desk. On the screen, a huge cat daruma was placed in a flower field.
—There was no sign of the game progressing. For now, this would have to do.
＊
A massive explosion from the wall shattered the silence of the flower field.
The wall exploded, revealing what lay beyond. It was a forest. Through the trees, a van drove in. The van barreled through the flowers, heading straight for the clearing and stopping in front of the game participants.
The participants, unable to react to the sudden turn of events, were stunned when they saw who stepped out from the driver’s seat.
"Eh!?"
"The one who got shot earlier!"
"Shiranami-kun!?"
Only Nanaka knew his name—Shirahama Aima—and called him out directly.
"Eh? Wasn’t he supposed to be dead…?"
Nanaka’s words likely represented the thoughts of all the participants.
"Aah, looks like it just missed the vital spots. I bled a lot, though."
Aima said nonchalantly, but Nanaka looked at him in confusion.
"I could have sworn you were shot right between the eyes…?"
"Well, I’m living proof that I’m fine. Anyway, everyone got in the car. I’ve called the police. They should be here soon, but... I don’t think you want to face them, right?"
At Aima's words, many participants nodded in agreement.
A gathering so suspicious that it seemed like people might die. A huge sum of money. If they were questioned by the authorities, what could they even say? In the worst case, they might end up being jailed alongside the organizers.
One by one, the participants followed Aima’s words and climbed into the van.
"Ah! Excuse me, is there anyone here who can drive? I don’t have a license yet, so it would be bad if I tried driving."
"I’ll drive."
A man in his thirties stepped forward and took the driver’s seat.
"But if we don’t know the location, where should we go…?"
"The car has a GPS system. It’ll show our current location, so we should be fine."
Aima, sitting in the passenger seat, began to operate the GPS.
"Tokyo... Shinjuku? Is this really Shinjuku?"
"It seems so."
"Shinjuku has a forest like this…?"
"Anyway, we’ll figure it out once we’re out, so please start driving."
The man pressed the accelerator, turned the car around, and drove out of the broken wall and into the open square.
They drove through the forest for a while. Then, suddenly, the view seemed to distort, and before they knew it, they were on a public road.
The man was startled and almost hit the brakes, but after checking the rearview mirror, he saw a car far behind them, so he held back. The distance was considerable, but if he slammed on the brakes, there was a risk of a rear-end collision.
It was night in Shinjuku. Aima checked his phone. It was 12:35 AM.
"There’s a park nearby, let’s stop there."
The man, following his instructions, stopped the van near the park.
The group dispersed. Aima had already collected everyone’s belongings and placed them in the back of the van, so as soon as they got out, he handed them back. It was easy to know their current location using the GPS on their phones, so everyone went their separate ways to head home. Since most didn’t know each other, they quickly left.
The only one who looked like she wanted to ask something was Nanaka, but when Aima didn’t respond, she also left.
Once everyone had left, Aima drew a magic circle on the ground with red light.
The magic circle glowed, and the VIPs appeared.
The VIPs were unconscious, still bound by the ropes.
"What should I do with these guys...?"
Given the nature of the death game, even if he handed them over to the police, they would likely deny everything. The claim that he had called the police earlier was a lie, made simply to get the participants to leave quickly.
Aima drew a magic circle on each of their foreheads.
A spell to implant false memories—Rewrite.
With this, he altered the memories of the past hour. They would now believe that they had been bound by ropes but managed to return on their own.
—Now, I’ll let them swim. The next death game will probably take place soon. If it doesn’t, that’s fine too.
He released the bindings of the VIPs. They would wake up after a while. After that, they’d figure things out on their own.
"Magic, huh..."
As he left the room, Aima pondered.
The staff of the death game had been magical dolls. The venue had been set up in an artificial space right in the middle of Shinjuku.
Both the magical dolls and the artificial space were made possible through magic. And that sense of "nostalgia" he felt when talking to Nanaka was the sensation of the magic that filled the venue.
It was something familiar from Aima's original world—Domus Patria.
"Why are things from another world here? I’ll need to look into this..."
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