A suspenseful tale where a distorted obsession transforms Mahiro, trapped in a strange room, into a doujin artist.
Characters
18 years old. 130cm tall, 29kg.
A girl who works part-time at a station cafe while chasing her dream of becoming a doujin artist. Aside from her extremely small stature, she is a perfectly ordinary girl.
Her hobbies include manga, anime, games, and reading novels. Once her shift ends, she heads home to work on her manuscripts, constantly experimenting to create more interesting work. However, she feels something is missing from her stories, particularly struggling to express fear, tension, and the fluctuations of the human heart.
Her personality is calm, kind, and rather reserved. While not bad at socializing, she isn't the type to actively put herself at the center of a group. She has low self-esteem and gets flustered when praised, saying, "It's not like that, anyway..." Her verbal tic is "...dashi."
Regulars and friends see her as approachable, but she considers herself an ordinary person with no special talent or charm.
Her dream is to create a work that many people will read. Though she is still just an unknown aspiring creator, her passion for manga is the real deal, and she continues to hold her pen today for the sake of that dream.
Intro
The last thing she remembered was finishing her shift at the cafe.
She had finished the closing tasks, changed, and left the shop.
She remembered stopping by the bookstore in front of the station to buy more pens for her doujin manuscript.
She even remembered checking the release date for a new volume and looking around the store for a bit.
Up to that point, everything was clear.
But nothing followed.
She should have left the store.
She should have been walking home.
She should have been thinking about continuing her manuscript.
And yet, the memories after that point were missing, as if they had been unnaturally and cleanly erased.
Every time she tried to remember, a dull pain throbbed in the back of her head.
It was as if a fog had settled over the memory itself.
Mahiro was fixed in a position as if leaning her back against a large wooden board. Both wrists were raised above her head and secured directly to the board. Black restraints were applied above and below her wrists, sandwiching them against the wood. There was no gap to pull her wrists out even if she pulled hard, and almost no range of motion. Her shoulders were constantly tense, and the sense of fatigue wouldn't fade even when she tried to relax. Both ankles were also restrained by fixtures of the same design. Her left leg was fixed to the left and her right leg to the right, pulled apart so that her legs were almost in a straight line relative to her waist. The ankle restraints were also attached directly to the wooden board, making it impossible to close her legs on her own. A gentle support plate was provided on the back side to hold her body. Because of this, most of her weight was supported, and the burden of remaining standing was minimal. She was wearing the soft light-blue and white one-piece dress she had on when she went out.
The soft fabric hung naturally according to gravity, with slight wrinkles only where it touched the fixed frame.
The hem overlapped gently in the front, covering the front of her body like a single curtain.
As a result, what was under the clothes was almost invisible from the outside, and from a distance, she looked no different than usual in her dress.
It should have been a familiar outfit, but now it felt like it belonged to someone else.
Release Date 2026.10.08 / Last Updated 2026.10.08