Re-Entry
I pulled out my student handbook and logged into the bulletin board. There were several types—general, university, affiliated school, research institute, marketplace, and more. I headed straight for the general board, the one with the biggest crowd.
Posts poured in like a waterfall on this Friday before the weekend, scrolling down at breakneck speed. Sure, compared to the boards you could access on a full pad with way more users, it was more like a gentle stream, but still.
That's when I spotted a desperate prayer from the research institute section: some experiment device had blown up, begging that at least the data survived. Clicking in, I saw what seemed like fellow researchers leaving comments wishing for the dead guy's soul to rest in peace. And mentions that the place was jinxed? Funny how even this world has superstitions like that. I thought "jinxed labs" were just an Earth thing.
Suddenly, it hit me—that space I'd vaguely guessed was from 60 years ago. I still had no clue what it really was. Come to think of it, Lambda Lilion had texted me a brief note about unethical experiments happening back then.
If she mentioned it so casually, was it common knowledge around here? Curiosity piqued, I grabbed my pad and searched for "Pristine Comprehensive University" and "unethical experiments." Shockingly, thousands of results popped up.
Grey Ark. The name for the early days when the first structures rose in this basin. That's when the Great Mana Beast Flood happened—every nation on the continent collapsed, and survivors banded together to form one country. To survive, they did everything possible, or so the articles said. After that brutal era dubbed the Mana Beast War ended and Pristine Comprehensive University was founded, the unethical experiments hidden in the shadows finally surfaced and were swept into history's dustbin.
That's what the public web said, anyway. What about the internal intranet? I searched the same terms on my student handbook. Results came up. I clicked through them one by one, but it wasn't what I expected. Insanely detailed records. Papers and evaluations from that era filled the pages. Full logs of the experiments remained untouched. Even photos of survivors and victims from back then.
Not buried as uncomfortable history—no, it felt like they'd stripped it bare and preserved it in formaldehyde.
But the victims in those photos looked unsettlingly familiar. Not the senior sprawled in pieces under the light. The skeletal black guide leading them. The lumps of meat with blue eyes staring from the corner trash pile like discarded garbage.
There they were, preserved exactly as I'd seen them in the 60-year-old photos. The only difference? No glowing blue eyes from the darkness.
What was that place? The spot I'd pegged as Pristine Comprehensive University 60 years ago. Filled with the dead. Like a portal straight out of a horror movie or game.
First it was the backrooms, now hell? Better if it was just a dream. But no, these things I shouldn't know were popping up as cold, hard fact.
Plugging into stories, ghosts usually appear to share their grudges—East or West, varying in malice, but that's the gist. But this didn't match my experience. I reincarnated. After death, next thing I knew, I was in my mom's womb. So I can say with certainty: no afterlife.
Yet they were there. Or does the world's rules change everything? Or grudges linger in spots like that? Mysteries everywhere, but one thing was crystal clear: everyone there had met the school's most horrific deaths, buried under its history.
Strangely, no shock. It felt obvious, like naming something I'd felt but couldn't articulate. Refreshing, even.
I picked up my still-silent pad and sent a text.
I set the pad down and flopped onto the bed. White light traced the ceiling corners down to the floor. Staring blankly, I sorted my thoughts.
Lots learned: missing and dead seniors, ancient deaths, a hell full of agony victims from here. Info gathered, but no next steps.
Maybe this tied deep into Pristine Comprehensive University. Or a massive case involving the Guardian Knights too.
Then the pad buzzed in my hand. I glanced over—Lambda Lilion's reply on the screen.
Business card? Oh yeah, that thing. I got up and headed to my bag in the corner. Opened it—plain box inside. Right, leftover Eritros candy.
Popped the lid; half the pieces rattled around. Ate one—bitter edge melting into sweet clarity for the mind. Technically a taste of home.
I set the box on the desk, rummaged deeper. Wallet, probably. I pulled out the one I didn't use much since school started. Old hand-me-down from my brother when he upgraded—sis called me cheap for it, but whatever. No need for luxury; functional's fine.
Opened it—bam, business cards. One from Dobell, one from Lambda Lilion. Well, technically spawned from her pad screen, but close enough. Hers had a cute character, uncharacteristically adorable. Looked like fancy paper with gold foil, but faint ticking gears hummed through the stiff cardstock. Bent like paper, but the sound didn't stop. Weird item. Demon-made, though—not ordinary.
Slid it behind the pad—I always carried that. Good enough.
But what did it do? Why "carry the card" for a hell question? Protective spell? One-shot shield? Nice insurance, even if it didn't block trips to hell.
Evening passed like that, then off to Fugue Hall—2nd floor, rooms 61 to 120 meetup. Quick intros, then lounged in the common area till 10 PM bedtime.
Worried about dorm hierarchy stifling things, but nah—just casual chats, like cousins catching up awkwardly. Seniors looked out for juniors loosely, no rigid rules.
Some bonded quick. Hard to describe. My old world had strict hierarchies; here, barely any social pecking order. Felt like a younger buddy moving in, not a subordinate. Unique.
At 10 PM, short announcement: bedtime. Everyone shuffled in without fuss.
Sitting on my bed, I thought: scary stuff aside, affiliated school life was fun.
Then I was back in that stark white T-junction.
Ugh. Knew it. Still clutching the pad, but the card inside didn't block entry. Or couldn't.
Took a steady look at the screen. No garbled text this time. Still out of range, though.
Sighed softly, eyed the massive iron door at the junction. Bold yellow-black diagonal hazard stripes screaming presence.
"So that's where you ended up."
A voice from behind. Not mine—beautiful but chilling feminine tone from days ago.
"Lambda Lilion?"
Turned. Half-human form, other half golden gears floating in air. Younger than before—missing parts? Partial summon for this place? She wore a smile-like expression. Beyond, her cross pupils gleamed gold, countless gears turning slowly.
"Indeed. Abelian Anion. Using the business card I gave you as a medium, I summoned myself here."
She answered.