We struggled.

  Hands clawed at sleeves, someone screamed until their voice cracked, another sobbed my name.

  But the sound was swallowed by the room, heavy and thick like wet fabric pressed against our mouths.

  “Let go—!”

  “Help—!”

  Then—

  “Stop. Stop struggling!”

  A familiar voice cut through the chaos.

  Light flooded in as the teachers’ room door slammed open again.

  Strong hands grabbed our arms—

  Not dragging or not violent, but grounding.

  I blinked hard.

  She is Songwill.

  Behind her stood several classmates.

  Not just from our class... students from other classes too.

  All pale.

  All shaken.

  “Enough,” Songwill said, breathing hard. “You’re safe. For now.”

  My legs nearly gave out.

  Once we calmed down, once our breathing slowed enough to listen.

  Songwill spoke again.

  Her voice was steady, but I could tell she was forcing it.

  “It started the same way,” she said. “Screaming... someone disappearing. Then silence...”

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  Just like a horror movie.

  She explained everything quickly, like she was afraid the room might interrupt her.

  It began upstairs. The senior floors.

  At first, a few students from our grade went up there out of curiosity.

  Some Exvertia.

  Some introverts and extroverts.

  Rickely was there too along with one or two others who had volunteered.

  They, except Rickely, wanted to experience fear properly.

  They are admired Narina’s haunted house concept.

  Wanted to understand it.

  I felt something twist in my chest.

  Then—

  people vanished.

  One by one.

  No sound or no trace.

  Parents, too.

  Teachers.

  Security guards.

  Maids and Bodyguards.

  “They’re just… gone,” someone behind Songwill whispered. “We tried calling. No signal. No response.”

  Kana.

  The thought hit me so hard I almost staggered.

  Kana is my personal maid.

  She was always calm, smiling.

  She always there for me.

  Yet now... would she come for me?

  Or still worried about me—

  I stopped myself before the thought finished.

  Songwill continued.

  “When we regrouped here,” she said, “we counted everyone.”

  She hesitated.

  “There were thirteen of us.”

  The room went quiet.

  Thirteen.

  “That’s when people started panicking,” Songwill said. “No one wanted that number.”

  They debated.

  They look desperately... loudly...

  Stay together? Split up? Go look for help? Barricade the room?

  Students before us arrived were sixteen in total.

  The vote followed.

  Eight would leave the school to find help—

  Or escape.

  Eight would stay and wait.

  They split.

  The eight who left never returned.

  No proof they even existed beyond memory.

  “So... we don’t split again,” Songwill said firmly. “That’s final.”

  Now, with us included, the number settled again.

  Thirteen.

  A bad number.

  An obvious number.

  A number that felt chosen by something else.

  But waiting had failed.

  Running separately had failed.

  “So we move,” Songwill said. “All of us. Together.”

  No one argued.

  Not Exvertia.

  Not introverts.

  Not extroverts.

  Fear didn’t care what you were.

  We lined up at the teachers’ room door.

  Thirteen students.

  Thirteen shadows stretched across the floor, warped by flickering lights that shouldn’t have been flickering.

  My heartbeat felt too loud.

  I glanced at the room behind us.

  Songwill reached for the handle.

  For a moment, the reflection in the glass didn’t match us.

  I thought I saw more shadows than bodies.

  Someone standing where no one stood.

  Watching.

  The handle turned.

  The door opened.

  The hallway beyond was dark.

  Not dim.

  Empty.

  As if sound itself had been erased.

  Songwill stepped forward first.

  “We don’t run,” she said. “We don’t look back.”

  I followed.

  All thirteen of us did.

  And the door closed behind us—

  Softly, politely... like it had been waiting.