Headless Principal and Closing Darkness

I desperately wanted to head straight back to the safe, comfortable guard room. But I couldn't abandon the fifth-floor exploration just yet. It was because of the information from the taped recording left by my predecessor.

The counseling room at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the end of the right corridor. He'd only left two pieces of advice, and the fact that one was dedicated to the counseling room made it clear this was a space hiding some major secret.

I had no idea how often a day like today—one without any special incidents—would come around. So I figured it was best to explore while I could.

This time, I decided against using the left corridor route to access the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fifth floor. What if a youkai was waiting right in front of the left staircase? I'd be cornered at the entrance with nowhere to run. Sure, according to the rules, it wouldn't be dangerous right after entering, but what about that one-in-a-million chance? In a place like this, I thought it was far better to err on the side of excessive caution than reckless complacency.

Of course, there were escape options from the left staircase. You could climb higher to reach the rooftop. But the rooftop was truly a last resort.

Fleeing there might just lead to an even worse hell.

So I planned to take a longer route, going back up to the fifth floor via the central staircase. Unlike the other stairs, the rules allowed free movement in any direction on the central one. Still, to minimize uncertainties, I didn't head straight up—instead, I went ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down to the fourth floor first. If the rule about not lingering too long in one spot still applied, I could die the moment I entered.

The broadcasting room had added one more thing to watch out for. Sure enough, as if the fourth-floor corridor was welcoming me back, the emergency lights flicked on immediately. In response, I froze like ice from the freezer.

I retraced the route in my head. Down the right corridor to the third-floor hallway, then up the left staircase. Back through the fourth-floor corridor to this spot. Once on the fifth-floor corridor, I'd assess and decide from there.

Cause and effect—no result without a cause. Nothing happened as I looped back to the fourth-floor central staircase. This school was just atmospherically creepy; without special incidents, it was surprisingly manageable. If ghosts popped up periodically like in a horror game, I wouldn't be this bold. Well, except for the second-floor corridor. No amount of visits would make that one feel normal.

I climbed the central staircase cautiously. Even with just one step left to the fifth floor, the hallway remained dark. Then, as I took that step and blinked—the entire fifth-floor corridor lit up.

Even seeing it again, it was eerie and thrilling. Unlike before, the lights didn't flicker, and there was no ominous vibe. I took it as a sign that the entrance check had passed.

With a sigh of relief, I headed to the principal's office, secretly hoping for some useful info or item like in the broadcasting room.

The principal's office rule was bizarre. It sounded perfectly normal at first glance, but with no explanation, it was frustrating. Fine, lost items made sense—but what did "do not let it grab your back" mean? In real life, there were situations where you had to watch your back, like picking up dropped soap in the military showers. Did that mean a youkai in the principal's office was after my back?

Other than that, nothing else was noted, so it didn't seem overly dangerous. I cautiously opened the door and peered inside.

Click...

Click...

I checked the interior, then carefully closed the door again. The room was a standard spacious principal's office. The problem? Something was sitting in the chair at the central desk.

A humanoid thing in a suit, with a thick build. I called it humanoid because it had no neck. It didn't look like one had been there and gotten severed—the cross-section was smooth, as if it had never had one to begin with. That must be the youkai occupying the principal's spot.

Did I really need to explore this place? I cracked the door open again and looked inside. The principal youkai was still sitting there. I stepped cautiously into the room.

Then it slowly rose from the chair. As I backed into the hallway, it sat back down.

Was it like an alarm? Games often placed gatekeepers in rooms with important items. So there was a good chance something valuable was here—probably near that principal youkai.

Of course, it might not be. This wasn't a game world. I couldn't deliberate forever; I had to keep the fifth-floor corridor constraints in mind too.

I boldly entered. That's when I understood why the rule didn't flag it as dangerous. The principal youkai was slow as a turtle. Even seeming eyeless, it knew exactly where I was, approaching in a straight line—but at a glacial pace. Good thing its speed matched its bulky frame.

I kept a safe distance and searched the room. As long as I didn't space out, no way it'd grab my back, dead or alive.

The large office didn't have much to check. Plaques in the cabinet, but unreadable. Books on the shelf, unreadable. No Korean-twisted script like in the broadcasting room.

Finally, the desk where the youkai had sat. Nothing meaningful on top or in the drawers. Some weird documents, but again, unreadable. No lost items, maybe? Zero gains.

The principal youkai plodded slowly but steadily toward me. I kept glancing to ensure no sudden acceleration—none so far.

Mindful of the corridor limits, I decided to call the search and leave.

Back in the fifth-floor corridor, a window was slightly open. Based on prior experience, still safe for now. The right staircase was right next to the counseling room anyway—if trouble, I could dive sideways.

True to form, the counseling room was at the end of the right corridor, off to the side. Unlike other doors, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this one was spotlessly clean. It screamed "special place."

The rule was straightforward and normal. What is the counseling room? A place to go with worries. Simple and precise. No other spot had been described this plainly.

In a one-eyed village, a two-eyed man stands out. Without info, I'd suspect a trap—but with the predecessor's recording confirming it, this was a must-enter. Maybe even an escape clue.

Heart pounding with anticipation and a touch of fear, I turned the knob. It didn't budge. Even wrenching hard, it felt fixed in place.

I knocked. No response from inside.

What the hell? Why won't it open? No matter how hard I tried, the door stayed shut.

Then the ceiling lights in the fifth-floor corridor flickered.

Flicker, flicker.

No choice—had to retreat. But the right staircase was right beside me. I could escape the fifth-floor corridor anytime. That gave me some leeway.

I turned to check the hallway behind. At least I wanted to know what threatened me. For future fifth-floor isolations.

Flicker. At some point, the light by the distant left staircase had gone out. Another flicker, and the one before it too. Another, the one ahead of that. Then the central staircase light.

The corridor darkened progressively. Yet no visible threat approached.

Flicker. Now only two lights left.

Flicker. Just the one by the right staircase—where I stood.

Nothing lunged at me except the encroaching darkness. But I didn't doubt the rules were wrong. The darkness itself might be the danger.

Just before the final flicker, I hurled myself toward the staircase.

Flicker. As it happened, I escaped the fifth-floor corridor.

To be safe, I dashed down half a flight before stopping. Then looked back.

The darkened fifth-floor corridor. Red emergency lights flickered on again.

Something was where I'd stood. A figure in a school uniform, long hair hanging down—like a female student.

It turned to look at me. Empty eye sockets. Ears sliced off. Mouth sewn shut.

Clack. The sound of indoor shoes on the floor.

The female student approached me step by step. The youkai was descending the staircase.