Ten Ghosts Night Parade (1)
It had been a week since I fell into this bizarre school. New threats visited me every day, making time fly by in a blur. The Gallery had said threats didn't come this frequently, but whatever.
At first, I felt wronged. Why is the difficulty so high just for me? But after my first death and meeting Kkamang-i, my thinking changed. If the outer god who created this world had taken an interest in me for some unknowable reason, what could I do? If I couldn't escape by my own will, it was better for my mental health to accept it rather than deny it. Yelling at the empty air, Why me?! would just amuse Kkamang-i. I steeled myself, accepting that more of this would keep coming.
Another week passed like that. Surprisingly, nothing happened. The anomalies that used to pop up frequently didn't occur even once during that time. Even the school bell, which I'd expected to torment me with its constant ringing, functioned normally. Not that I wanted it to, of course.
With nothing going on, it felt oddly empty. When the school bell rang, I'd quickly lock up and spend the rest of the time on the Gallery. Surf the Gallery all day, take a nap when I got bored—that routine repeated endlessly. At first, I couldn't understand the people stuck here for years. Just keep exploring and gathering clues for escape, right? I reflected on my past naive self.
This wasn't some friendly escape room cafe. No clues scattered around for you to find. Even after locking up, I'd circled the school multiple times, even entering safe classrooms, but I found not a single clue—or even a decent item.
An utterly empty school. Too clean for an abandoned one, like it was swept daily, but too barren for a normal school. Each classroom had a cleaning supply closet with brooms and mops, but what was the point? I already had my trusty baseball bat.
The Gallery had no new info either. Once, out of boredom, I asked Chieon Nak-si-kkun to share stories of anomalies the predecessors faced. I expected dozens, but there were fewer than ten.
From the Gallery, most deaths on duty were newbies who hadn't adapted yet. Just avoid weird actions and fit into this world, and you rarely died during shifts. Later, people got bored with the repetitive routine and tried escaping—then died. Thanks to Soonbaek-i providing food and a livable setup, mere survival was fine.
Of course, not everyone was content with that treatment. In this world trapping dozens or hundreds, those who thought I can do it! and tried escaping all died. Once, an escapee appeared, sparking a wave of attempts, but none since.
The Gallery seemed lively, but I worried everyone was just listless. Who was I to worry? I was turning into a Gallery ghost myself.
I hadn't given up on escape. Too early for that. But my remaining options were extreme.
With nothing happening, the ways I could force change:
First: Skip a shift and visit the Counseling Room. Trade one skipped duty for escape info. But the cost was steep.
Kkamang-i must like baseball; it was a three-strike system. Three lives, three warnings, three absences—all end in death. I didn't want to imagine how.
Second option, similar: Intentionally mess up locking to get a warning letter and fish for info. During this exam period, I could visit the Counseling Room without skipping. But two issues: Key escape info might not come cheap, and with one warning already, I'd have only one chance left. I knew monsters could relock doors, so no more slip-ups—but I wanted it as backup.
Last: The Annex. Sacrifice one of my two remaining lives to explore. Predecessors kept trying, so something was there. But instant death meant pointless loss—no thanks.
"Haa..." I sighed deeply, as if the world might end.
To gain something, you lose something. Life's rule, but here it tied to my life, so hard to decide. The lowest risk was first: No absences yet, so one try couldn't hurt. Chieon Nak-si-kkun warned of higher difficulty, but how bad? Not trying today. One more week of scouting—if nothing, then skip.
After that, days dragged on unchanged. I wondered if the youkai felt bored too. I'd sit in the Guard Room before sunset. Song Ha-yeon or Kim Eat-Chil would pop in, check on me, then head home.
At first, I suspected ulterior motives—hints of future events or mind tricks. Han Min-ji had threatened me openly. But Kim Eat-Chil and Song Ha-yeon did nothing suspicious; I felt stupid for doubting. They even helped sometimes.
Like when Song Ha-yeon did second-period study hall. I went to return the cutter knife.
"Keep it, Guard. We have plenty in the Staff Room."
No reason to refuse. Cutter knife joined my inventory officially. No good storage in the Guard Room, so it sat in the corner with the bat. The noose got special treatment: alone in the desk drawer under the monitor. One-use item. If it activated on its own... drawer stayed empty otherwise.
As I pondered uses, staring into space, Kim Eat-Chil appeared. He could've left quietly but always chatted—bright personality for a youkai.
"Whatcha doing?"
"Zoning out."
"Fun?"
"Bored."
Familiarity is scary. Kim Eat-Chil, once terrifying just by appearing, no longer scared me. Chatting daily with a being that could kill me easily diluted the fear; now he felt friendly.
"Bored? Come out of the Guard Room."
"Nah. Eat-Chil, when's exam period over?"
"Nine days till exams."
After exams, back to normal shifts? Instinct said visit Counseling Room before then. A week since deciding to skip—nothing happened today. Time to try.
Before skipping, one last check: Gallery. I posted my plan.
Gallery reactions: I was crazy, or indifferent. The latter were long-timers. Explaining why triggered the write ban popup—insiders' secret. Their nonchalance reassured me; not a wrong choice. But I couldn't be nonchalant; it was my reality.
After 10, bell rang—I stayed put. Eyes kept drifting to the clock. Way past Main Gate lock time. No turning back. Late gate? Unknown penalty, but rules already broken. Skipping my perfect record spiked my heart rate—guilt? Tension?
Please, let tonight pass uneventfully. And tomorrow's difficulty... not too bad.