I never played it again. But sometimes, late at night, my PS2 turns itself on. And from the living room, I hear the soft sound of seeds falling on wooden floors.
The screen was pure red. Then a whisper, in Japanese-accented English: "You are not supposed to be here. But the seeds don't mind." Red Seeds Profile -NTSC-J--ISO-
Curiosity killed me. I loaded it.
My character was gone. Instead, I controlled a scarecrow wearing Kaito’s coat. The village was empty—no fog, no lanterns. Just tall, red grass that moved against the wind. And in the center of town, a massive tree grew from the well, its roots strangling every house. On the tree’s bark: thousands of names. I scrolled down. I never played it again
The screen flashed: "Water with regret." The screen was pure red
My name was there. In English. And next to it, today’s date.
I tried to exit. The power button didn't work. The PS2’s fan stopped. Silence. Then the controller vibrated—not a rumble, but a pulse. Once. Twice. Three times. Like a heartbeat.