Chapter Text
"Have you ever heard of the hotel between worlds?"
"That's freaky, no way it exists...Have you been?"
"Haha, no, since I am still bound to this world with my killer still around, but before I truly depart, I would love to go there," the pink-haired girl chuckled, petting her dog,
"A hotel between worlds? For the dead before they truly depart? This would make a wonderful tale," A man with dark green hair mumbled, a hand under his chin.
The boy next to the man nudged him before fixing his pompadour, "Shut it, Rohan, we're invested,"
A grunt from the black-haired man who stood with them made a grey-haired boy cast his eyes up at him, "Do you know anything about this hotel, Mr. Jotaro?"
...Now, a grand, luxurious hotel sits atop the only visible structure in a vast sea of rolling green hills, stretching as far as the eye can see. It's a strange sight—one might expect no place of grandeur in such isolation, but there it stands, pristine and timeless, a place that simply is.
This hotel, though, is not like others. It's not built for just anyone. Its guests are chosen. Some arrive by chance, some out of need. Whether they choose to stay or leave is their decision. But, I must warn them—the decision to leave does not mean they're truly gone. They will return. Eventually. I don't decide who comes and who goes, nor do I know when or why they come. I only work here.
And yes, as the sole employee, I suppose that would technically make me the boss, wouldn't it? A curious title for one who has no recollection of the world before this place. Here, in this grand, silent building, I have everything I could want. The kitchen is always stocked, and I never need to step foot outside. There's no need to clean—rooms are always pristine, and the air remains untouched by dust.
Still, despite all its comforts, it gets lonely. I have my solitude, which I value dearly, but it's hard to ignore the emptiness sometimes. I spend my days here, perched at the front desk, the only sound being the occasional footfall of a guest's arrival or the soft creak of the building shifting.
It's been a long time since I've had new guests, though. The truth is, I've received so many questions over the years that I had to take matters into my own hands. So, now, there's a sign at the entrance—one that every guest must read before entering. I've become quite tired of answering the same inquiries, day after day.
"Welcome.
Do not ask questions on how and why you are here.
Simply enjoy your stay, and you will find yourselves back where you once were.
Coming here is never a mistake. Do not be rude to the sole employee. Thank you."
I've said it a thousand times, and still, the questions linger.
But they'll learn. Eventually.