[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/5FqwUwv.jpg?1[/img]
[h3][b][color=00aeef]Chinami Nadakai[/color][/b][/h3][/center]

The Nightman Therapy Clinic was a two-story, rectangular affair, sizable enough to be approximately a dozen rooms deep on the shorter width of said rectangle -if she had to guess at a distance... the distance in question being several hundred feet away atop a rooftop overlooking the detestable institution of her ire.

Chinami's crimson eyes narrowed at the building, a barely restrained snarl on her lips. Her blood was still curdling in rage from the letter she'd received at Kiburi's earlier that morning. Its contents... They were damning, but devoid of context, and once she had finished lying through her teeth with a straight face to the faculty, they had been robbed of credibility as well.

After all, who were the staff of Kiburi going to believe: one of their star, model students... or some crackpot letter filled with baseless accusations?

Obviously not the latter.

Unfortunately, the ease with which Kiburi's had accepted her lies had also been the same ease they foisted off the solving of this problem to her. The clinic -assuming it was legit- would unfortunately have enough sway that they might be able to threaten her enrollment. Certainly, they could make themselves enough of a nuisance that it might be more trouble for Kiburi's than it was worth to keep her around. That said, even if it was the incompetents at Kiburi's, it was plain to see that they were just as baffled by the letter as she was.

The Letter (and it deserved the fucking capitals) had made some shockingly accurate observations about her past. Objectively, she could see where her frankly abusive and negligent childhood could seem concerning. In fact, she could certainly see how the Final Tomb Event could be the straw that broke the camel's back. However...

That was [i]4 years ago[/i]!

It should be blatantly obvious to anyone with eyes that she had -quite possibly by divine or demonic providence- come away from those events remarkably mentally intact -if not flawless. While her athletic body may have been scarred beneath her baggy clothes, her mind was a stubborn iron trap. She had survived at half their age where many adults would have faltered. She had [i]survived[/i], conquered and prospered, overcome every obstacle, slain every enemy. And now, finally, she was ready to rest, [i]had been resting[/i] for nearly half a decade, only for this... [i]bullshit[/i] to come up now!

The first sign that these people were hacks was their blatant disregard for the most basic principle of psychology, something even she knew: you can't help someone who doesn't want to be. They will resent you. They will hate you. They will double down on their every issue and bite, scratch and claw the whole way down, doing themselves as much harm -if not more- than they are helped. To ignore this simple thing already, to ignore her firm and reasonable rejection of the initial invitation...

Already, that had her attention.

In psychology, you couldn't help someone who didn't trust you, and she most [i]certainly did not trust them[/i]! They would have to be utter fools not to know that, and yet still, they persisted. So, that was issue number one.

The second problem began to crop up once she realized that she would inevitably have to go to the Clinic and started doing some research. What she found was... strange.

On the surface, the reviews for the institution seemed legit, positive even. Only... they were [i]too[/i] positive. Frankly, the wording, the way the writers almost seemed to- to [i]gush[/i] over the experience was just... People -[i]real people[/i]- just didn't talk like that! Or rather, what she was reading sounded more like statements from people who had just found religion and were getting [i]way[/i] too into it, and it was [i]consistent[/i], a constant litany of heaping flowery, purple prose praise!

And worse?

There were no negative reviews.

Not. A. Single. One.

There were a few ways to take that, and none of them were good. After all, the simple Law of Averages dictated that with the sheer volume of totaled reviews, the absence of even a single dissenting opinion should have been outright impossible. Moreover, every rating was marked as high as it could go, Five Stars across the board! A lukewarm opinion? Mere [i]satisfaction[/i]? What were those? They certainly couldn't be found here! Every review might as well have been frothing at the mouth with joy, and that fucking [i]terrified[/i] Chinami to her core.

The Goth girl couldn't help her gorge rising as she processed the number of... of [i]victims[/i] laid out before her. Just... what had been [i]done[/i] to these people? Could it be undone? She couldn't say until she had the opportunity to examine a victim personally. Even so, just how long had this operation been going on under the peoples' noses? How entrenched were they economically and politically? They seemed to have enough sway to inconvenience the Four Academies, literally some of -if not- [i]the[/i] most integral institutions in the whole country.

Someone had discovered her past. Had they divined it? Had one of her former colleagues been too loose-lipped even after she got their oath of silence? It could be all too many things in this mad world, where the gods and demons alike bestowed absurd power upon irresponsible mortals. Someone wanted her here. That, or they wanted her specifically away from Kiburi's for a time. Given the odds on the latter, she was more inclined to think that this was a trap specifically targeting her, not the school. So, they wanted her at this so-called "clinic". They wanted her "treated" with whatever the fuck all these poor souls had been snorting. And they had access to information that [i]no-one should have[/i]!

Something stank to high heaven, and she was going to have to get to the bottom of it... whether she wanted to or not.

That said...

Like hell she was walking into a trap.

If there was anything her years of spelunking in mysterious and cursed tombs and ruins had taught her, it was that you [i]never[/i] resorted to tripping the trap to pass it if you could go around or simply disable it. More often than not, such mystical obstacles had fail-safes designed exactly for cheeky people who thought that tripping them was the way. In fact, most mystical traps were able to automatically reset anyway. Thus, disabling traps ahead of time was the only intelligent thing to do.

This was just another tomb.

It was time to fucking raid it.

[@KillamriX88] [@Letter Bee] [@Dezuel]