I have a habit of wandering around late at night—well, taking walks, really.

As autumn approached, the days were still hot, but late at night it got cool enough that wearing a thin hoodie was just right.

My hometown isn't super rural, but if you walk a little ways past the residential area, a straight path through the rice fields opens up.

Walking there on a moonlit night, watching the ears of rice rustle in the cool breeze illuminated by the moonlight, feels incredible.

Traffic is practically nonexistent, with only the occasional headlights visible on the distant highway.

Only during those walks did it feel like the whole world belonged to me.

That night was another one with a beautiful moon.

As usual, after walking out of the residential area, I reached the familiar path through the fields.

Feeling a slight chill after walking for a bit, I thrust my hands into my hoodie pockets and strolled along slowly.

Halfway down the long field path, I suddenly noticed something.

Slightly delayed behind my own steps, another set of footsteps was coming from behind me.

At first I thought I was imagining things, but the wind was calm that night and there were no other sounds.

Was someone else out for a late-night walk like me, just happening to be behind me?

Even so, wasn't it strange for them to be following me this whole time?

For that matter, how long had they been behind me?

As my mind raced, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

Between the late hour and the situation, the scenery in front of me that I had thought was so beautiful suddenly became a source of growing anxiety.

I had a bad feeling, but just as I mustered the courage to turn around—

Ding-dong-dang-dong.

The chime of the town's emergency broadcast system echoed through the area.

It was the kind of town-wide PA announcement usually used for heatstroke warnings or missing elderly citizens.

But the audio was horribly distorted and far too loud.

My ears hurt, and I instinctively covered them.

"...This is... Emergency Management... XX Town..."

A flat, monotone female voice echoed at steady intervals.

It was past two in the morning.

Why was there a broadcast at a time like this?

Leaving my thoughts behind, the announcement continued.

"...※※※※ is present..."

"...All residents... please do not look behind you..."

...Huh?

It made no sense.

The voice was garbled, so I couldn't hear the crucial part.

But I definitely heard "Do not look behind you."

After the announcement cut off, the path through the rice fields fell even quieter than before.

The chirping of insects and the sound of the wind stopped, leaving complete silence.

Whatever was behind me didn't move. I tried calling out, but got no answer.

I took another step.

Sure enough, another set of footsteps echoed right after mine.

My heart thudded violently, and my breathing grew heavy.

Just then, after an ear-splitting chime, the broadcast started up again.

"...Do not... under any circumstances... run... You will not be able to escape..."

Blood rushed backward through my veins, and my legs suddenly felt heavy as lead.

Even if told not to run, there was no way I could stay calm in a situation like this.

Dragging my trembling legs, I kept walking as slowly as I could.

With every single step, I could feel the footsteps behind me getting closer.

A wet, scraping sound—like toes dragging through dirt—began to mix in.

"...It is behind you... Do not turn around."

This time, the voice of the emergency broadcast came from directly above me.

A terrible chill froze my spine.

Reflexively, I stopped dead in my tracks and held my breath.

In that instant, the footsteps right behind me stopped cold.

Whatever it was, it was undeniably close enough to reach out and touch me.

Unable to take it anymore, I gave in to the forbidden urge and turned around.

Standing there was something shaped like a human.

It had arms long enough to touch the ground and legs longer than my entire height.

It twisted its impossibly long neck like a rokurokubi from an old manga and peered into my face.

Its face held neither malice nor goodwill—it was literally impossible to tell what it was thinking.

Only its eyes, hollowed out of their sockets, stared right at me.

"Do not turn around."

The voice of that emergency broadcast was coming from its wide-open mouth.

Unable to even scream, I just stumbled on my feet and took off running.

I kept moving my legs frantically.

I was at my physical limit, my lungs burning painfully.

Only the terror that the monstrosity might be chasing me kept my feet moving forward.

As I fled, screams and grunts—neither human nor beast—kept pouring out like that emergency broadcast.

Along the way, I turned back a few times.

With its inhuman frame, it was following me with movements so sickening they defied description.

Before I knew it, I had reached my house.

Relieved to have escaped the creature and exhausted from running, I collapsed right at the front entrance.

Unchanging, the monstrosity stayed in front of the door, spewing nonsense words and groans.

As I lay trembling by the doorway, the broadcast slowly receded into the distance.

My consciousness faded as if I had passed out.

After that, I never took late-night walks again.

Even now when I sleep at night, I feel like I can hear that emergency broadcast—audible only to me—drifting from the direction of the rice fields.