Ghost Train's Farewell

I sat motionless in the middle of the stairs, still as a statue—as if I'd always been there like some gargoyle. Though, of course, there were no gargoyles on the stairs.

The stairwell was dim compared to the brightly lit hallway. Plus, my black security uniform blended right in. As long as the teachers didn't glance my way, I had a shot at not being spotted. And sure enough, the two of them passed by without noticing me at all.

I let out the breath I'd been holding, careful and quiet. Now what? My first instinct was to hunker down here until 10 p.m. I didn't know the exact time, but figuring from when I'd left the Guard Room, it was about an hour and a half. The teachers would probably pass the central stairs a few more times, but if they didn't catch me, what did it matter?

I scrapped that idea immediately. That was the choice for someone who gave up the second fear hit. Me? When I'm scared, I think run first.

Breaking through the hallway was my best bet. But there was a problem: the teachers' movements weren't predictable at all. They didn't just go one way to the end and turn back the other. They moved naturally, like they were actually proctoring self-study during exams. Hell, the balding teacher from the third floor even went into Class 3, dragged out a chair, placed it smack in the middle of the hallway, and sat down.

I really thought I was done for then. He was facing the stairs head-on. But the balding teacher just closed his eyes and started dozing off. My heart nearly stopped.

I've gotta get out of here. The timing was when the teacher patrolling the second floor headed right. I crept down the stairs step by step. I'd heard somewhere that bending your knees quiets your footsteps. Remembering that made my movements look downright ridiculous.

Ridiculous? Who cares. If it saved my skin, I'd play the clown.

I made it past the front of Class 1-4 without getting caught. Almost there.

"Who's there?"

Of course. No way I'd slip by unnoticed. Time to play the fool.

Judging by the attempt at conversation, it seemed like a neutral youkai for now. Without turning around, I answered.

"Uh... security guard."

"Security guard? What are you doing up here at this hour?"

Can't say Kim Eat-Chil showed me a textbook and I came up. I racked my brain and squeezed out a plausible excuse.

"I saw something weird on the CCTV while checking it, so I came to look. Nothing there. Must've been my mistake."

"Oh... really?"

The voice turned even colder than before. My hastily made-up excuse hadn't landed. Should I just bolt? I thought about it but didn't act. If I ran and ran into a hostile youkai next time, I wasn't sure I could handle it. Fewer enemies, the better.

Clack, clack.

"But... why are you talking without turning around?"

The teacher was approaching slowly. The clacking heels gnawed at my nerves. The closer she got, the more chills spread through my body. If this was a nightmare, I'd wake up right now. But no—this was reality.

I half-turned my body to glance back. The teacher, now right in my face, looked a bit surprised, like she hadn't expected me to look. But she quickly reverted to her icy expression.

"What are you doing? Only half-turning?"

I couldn't turn fully. That would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mean looking out the window. Whether the rules applied the same in the lit hallway was unknown, but no need to risk it.

"You messing with me? Not answering?"

I'm not your student. Drop the attitude. God, I wanted to spit that out, but instinct told me it was the wrong move. This wasn't like with Kim Eat-Chil. He hadn't treated me with this kind of venom. That's why I'd mouthed off then. But I wasn't in the habit of pouring gasoline on a fire.

Reluctantly, I turned fully—keeping my right eye shut. I trembled, adjusting my head angle to avoid the window as much as possible. Seeing my desperate act, even the teacher seemed momentarily speechless.

"...What's wrong with you?"

"Ah... something got in my... right eye..."

Her cold demeanor shifted to outright contempt. Better that than anything else. Contempt keeps distance.

"...Get back to work."

"Got it."

I bowed my head and turned away. The creepy feeling was gone.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I made it back to the Guard Room unscathed. Never going out at this hour again.

The CCTV showed 8:40 p.m. I could chill on the Gallery until 10, then patrol like usual. Only difference was lockdown time. As long as I didn't pull another stunt like today, exam period wouldn't be much different from normal.

I plopped down in front of the monitor in the break room, pondering how to write about what I'd been through—assuming it didn't hit the writing restrictions.

Maybe because the job was easy, Gallery posts leaned more toward random chit-chat than work or youkai talk. People sharing personal stories, weird bullshit threads, bait posts, even serialized novels. I was about to check for the next chapter when something felt off.

The Gallery was far from the peaceful vibe I knew.

Most were encouragements or comforts, but no clear target. Someone must've dropped a bombshell while I was out. Scrolling fast, I spotted a ominous title.

Short post, but the emotions packed in were heavy. GhostTrain didn't post or comment after. What I'd just gone through felt trivial; something welled up from my chest. Not sadness. Not shock. Not anger. I couldn't name it.

My throat tightened suddenly. I couldn't write. Hands shaking, but mostly I had no idea what to say.

I didn't understand GhostTrain's feelings. We'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only "known" each other a short time, and he wasn't a frequent poster. Sure, I'd faced crises here too, but suicide never crossed my mind.

Yet GhostTrain had steeled himself for death and headed off to some uncertain challenge. Would I end up the same after being here longer? Challenge the Annex like my predecessor and vanish?

No answers. Just tangled thoughts.

The Gallery gradually quieted as everyone gave up. No response, no matter how they called.

Then the school bell rang—once, then stopped. Time for lockdown. I staggered to my feet.

Even dazed, I didn't mess up the routine. Grabbed the key bundle, left the Guard Room.

The hallway lights no longer faintly lit the central stairs. Right after self-study ended, the school was eerily silent. No horde of students rushing out like dismissal. Maybe they just evaporated from their classrooms. Self-study felt real, but this place was unreal.

10 p.m. looked much like 7 p.m. Empty sky, faint city lights, playground darkening toward the center.

The Gallery had me feeling sentimental. Could I really survive and escape this place? It felt hopeless. When hopeless, what could I do? Lock the main gate.

Stepped onto the playground as usual. Crossing straight, something felt off. Vision blurred gradually, and by the center, darkness engulfed me.

Familiar. Same as my first night heading to the main gate. But I'd prepared: counted steps to the gate before. That voice had stopped me once, but no guarantee it'd help again.

Counting in my head, I moved. ...28, 29, 30.

No voice this time. Vision still dark, but I knew one more step was outside the gate, so I stopped. Now what? Just wait?

But the darkness didn't lift, no matter how long.