The room was quieter than usual.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet — but the heavy kind that pressed against your ears and made every small sound feel louder than it should be. The dim bulb above them buzzed faintly, throwing pale shadows across Rei's walls. The briefcase sat closed near the bed, but the folded paper lay open on the floor between the four of them like something alive, like it might suddenly change its words if they weren't careful.
Chuya sat cross-legged, holding the paper between his fingers.
He read the first two lines again.
Place the clear solution beneath three silent windows.
Do not let it face the narrow passage.
He frowned.
"Silent windows," he muttered. "What even is a silent window?"
Kai leaned forward. "Maybe it means windows in a soundproof room?"
Koma shook her head slowly. "No… silent windows feel more like… dead windows. Ones that don't 'respond' anymore."
Rei swallowed. "Like windows that don't open."
Chuya slowly nodded.
"That… actually makes sense. Windows that can't open. Sealed windows. Unused ones."
They stared at the paper again.
"So it's not poetic," Kai said. "It's practical."
"Which makes it worse," Koma replied softly.
Because practical meant real.
And real meant dangerous.
They immediately jumped to the obvious answer.
"Abandoned hospital," Kai said. "Hospitals have sealed windows everywhere."
Chuya quickly typed on his phone. "There's one near the east side of the city. Old government hospital, shut down years ago."
Rei felt a strange flicker of hope. "That could be it."
For almost an hour, they searched photos, satellite views, urban explorer blogs. They zoomed in, counted windows, checked old maps.
"Look," Koma said excitedly. "That wing has three sealed windows in a row."
Chuya squinted. Then sighed.
"No… there are actually six. The rest are just hidden by trees."
The hope died.
They leaned back in silence.
"What about train depots?" Rei suggested.
They found an abandoned railway station on the north side of the city. Old, closed, forgotten.
It even had three boarded windows on the side.
For a moment, everything felt like it lined up.
But then Kai noticed something.
"These windows are boarded, not sealed. The glass is broken behind them. Someone could still open them."
Chuya slowly lowered his phone.
"So they're not 'silent'. They're just covered."
Another dead end.
Rei rubbed his face with his hands.
"We're not even past the first line," he whispered.
Time passed.
The room grew darker.
Outside, traffic noise faded into distant hums. Koma brought water for everyone, but nobody drank much.
"What if we're overthinking it?" Kai muttered. "What if 'silent windows' just means windows that face a quiet street?"
Chuya shook his head firmly. "No. This puzzle doesn't speak like that. It's precise."
Rei stared at the floor. His chest felt tight.
"What if we never find it?" he asked quietly.
Nobody answered immediately.
That silence was heavier than any sound.
Chuya leaned back and sighed.
"Okay," he said, calmer now. "Let's reset. What kind of place would have exactly three permanently sealed windows — not boarded, not broken, but welded shut?"
Koma's eyes slowly widened.
"Factories."
Kai blinked. "Old industrial plants."
Rei felt his pulse quicken.
They began searching again — this time using old industrial maps, archived city documents, forgotten construction plans.
It took nearly an hour.
Then Chuya froze.
"…Guys."
They leaned closer.
"There's an abandoned chemical processing plant," he said quietly. "Shut down twelve years ago. East side of the city."
He zoomed into a photo.
"One side of the building has exactly three welded windows. Permanently sealed. No others on that wall."
Rei's breath caught.
Kai whispered, "That's… too perfect."
Koma swallowed. "That can't be coincidence."
Rei remembered the second line.
Do not let it face the narrow passage.
Chuya scrolled.
"There's a maintenance alley on the north side," he said. "Very tight. Narrow."
They stared at each other.
Everything lined up.
Too well.
Nobody smiled.
Nobody celebrated.
Because this didn't feel like winning.
It felt like being chosen.
Rei slowly stood up.
"So… this is it."
Chuya nodded.
"But we don't go tonight," Koma said quickly. "We plan. We prepare."
Kai exhaled. "Because whatever wrote that puzzle… expected someone to come."
Rei looked back at the paper on the floor.
And for the first time since he'd opened that briefcase, he felt something deeper than fear.
He felt watched.
They might have found the place.
but is it true? nobody knows for now.