Crossing the Playground's Abyss

The monitor in the main gate guard room was on, just like the one in the break room. The screen was divided into nine sections, each showing a different scene. Anyone could tell it was CCTV footage. But right now, I had no idea what specific areas those scenes depicted.

To leave the guard room, I grabbed the door handle and took a deep breath. It said not to go out during the day in no uncertain terms, so I couldn't help but feel tense. Click. It must have been locked from the inside, because I heard a sound from the handle. I cautiously stepped through the open door.

Nothing happened. Keeping my tension high, I walked toward the hallway. I needed to stop by the admin office first to grab the key bundle. It was the first room on the left after turning the corner. I opened the Guard Rules Booklet.

The admin office was dark, with the lights off, just as dim as the hallway. A long partition divided the space in the center. Staff desks were set up near the windows, most of them empty, but one had a white mannequin sitting there. Its arms were placed on the desk as if using the computer, but it wasn't moving. As long as I didn't intentionally cross the partition, there was no risk of accidentally touching it.

In the center was a large plastic box. When I approached, it was filled with key bundles—not just one, but dozens stacked up. At a glance, all the keys in the bundles looked identical. They ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠must have made so many spares.

I picked up just one and quickly left the admin office. The hallway was still silent. According to the rules, each floor's hallway had different characteristics, but the first-floor hallway was normal until midnight. Once I finished locking the doors, I'd hole up in the guard room without moving, so no worries there.

Back at the central entrance, I could see the guard room with light leaking from the monitor. It wasn't comfortable, but it was a space I could believe was safe. Suppressing the urge to go inside right away, I pushed open the glass door and headed outside.

Such thoughts crossed my mind. What if this was all an elaborate hidden camera prank with high production values? A kidnapping to some horror-themed location? I clung to that faint hope in a corner of my heart. Sure, weird things had happened so far, but nothing beyond human common sense, right?

But the moment I stepped outside, I truly felt like I'd fallen into another world. The sky was pitch black. When painting a night sky, people use black, but in reality, it's never truly black. And usually, there's moonlight or starlight twinkling. But here, it was as if blackout curtains completely covered the sky—nothing at all.

Instinct told me it was dangerous to keep looking, so I lowered my head. Right in front of me was the city nightscape, surprisingly enough. Colorful lights and a single towering skyscraper stretching straight up. But the playground right before my eyes was swallowed by darkness. It wasn't brightly lit overall, but at least the edges were visible in shape. The center, though, seemed to suck everything in like an ant hell, deeper and darker the further in it went.

Even without knowing math, anyone would say the shortest path from one point to another is a straight line. If someone says otherwise, smack them—they're joking. When people panic and run without thinking, they go straight. So when I saw it in the rules, I wondered why they even needed to specify it.

If I hadn't seen the rules, I never would have tried crossing straight. I'd have stuck to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠edges where shapes were visible. Of course, the rules themselves could be a trick, but someone in the Gallery had told me, 'Never seen anyone die locking the main gate.'

I don't know what builds trust. But at least whoever said that wanted me to survive. Clutching the key bundle tightly, I descended the stairs and entered the playground. The main gate was less than 50 meters away. I slowly stepped into the darkness.

My vision grew blurrier. The main gate blurred too. Vision enveloped in darkness. The main gate vanished. Not just the gate—nothing was visible. Not even my arms or legs.

Still, I didn't stop walking. I was too scared to. This had to be right according to the rules. My breathing grew ragged. Don't doubt it. I kept repeating to myself. It wasn't some grand trust. Just clinging to the only lifeline I had.

'Stop.'

The sudden voice made me freeze on the spot. Slowly, I opened my eyes. When had I closed them? My vision brightened. I was right at the main gate boundary. Two more steps, and I'd have been out of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the school.

Realizing that, I stumbled back a couple steps. "Hah... hah..." I nearly died. They said there was no death from it. Or... since I didn't die, it was true? Dazed, I looked outside the gate. No people walking, but it looked like a normal roadside. A car whooshed by. Tinted windows hid the inside.

What the hell was I doing? Shaken from the shock, I must have wanted a break. Enough sightseeing—I'd lock the gate and head back.

The main gate was an accordion-style door. You know those sliding ones easy to hop over? Makes you question what the point of a gate even is. Kiiiiiik. The noise when opening and closing was deafening. All downsides, no upsides. Bound to attract any nearby youkai. Not that I'd seen one yet.

Clink clink. Finding the main gate key in the bundle was easy. The padlock was big, and there was only one large key. Click. The simple act of locking the main gate was finally done. Now, just head back.

Turning around, the dark, unlit school loomed. Ironically, the gate side was brighter from streetlights. Heading into the darkness was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the right answer? I wanted to cry. Cautiously, I stepped back onto the playground. Bracing for the same phenomenon.

But this time, nothing happened.

I tossed the key bundle into a corner and checked the time on the monitor to the right. 7:32. How much hesitating did I do? Twenty minutes just to lock the gate and return.

Checking the Gallery, they were posting nonsense and messing around.

Wasn't this the epitome of peace? As I started gallerying, my chaotic mind calmed. Human connection was this precious.

Then, the user who'd helped me before commented.

To be precise, "nearly died" wasn't accurate. It only said you'd be treated as an outsider if you left the gate—no mention of death. But in this insane world, wasn't it the same? Without outsider rules, I'd die in seconds.

Chieon Nak-si-kkun just spammed question marks at my explanation. Then another comment.

I wasn't surprised. Probably those who experienced it didn't wake up like me and crossed the gate. They wouldn't post on the Gallery then.

I couldn't help but be shocked by the next reply.

42. Not a small number. They didn't all die pointlessly, so the time passed here wasn't short either. How long had these people been trapped?

I knew the term—I'd used galleries outside too. It just felt heavier here.

No burden—just admiration. 42 here alone. Add other places, over a hundred easy. If I'd witnessed that many deaths live, I'd have gone mad. "Just like me," he said, but admin material was different.