An Apologetic Monster and the Gallery's Secrets
Do you know what happens when Gallery folks block escape routes and corner someone after a shift? On school trips, they have recreation time to build camaraderie. And sometimes, an oblivious instructor picks out a shy kid and drags them onstage. If you try hiding or playing coy, they ruthlessly pull you up anyway. That's what I was back then—one of those quiet kids in class who barely spoke. Suddenly, you're thrust onstage and told to perform. A few hidden talents might seize the chance for a flashy debut. Most fumble and disappoint the crowd. And some go nuts, do something crazy, and scram. I was the third type.
I said I'd sing and belted out a sound like a pig getting slaughtered. Once I started, I didn't stop until the panicked instructor halted me. Looking at Kim Eat-Chil now, he reminded me of that flustered instructor. His mouth hole had sealed up, leaving no expression, though.
I'd already figured Kim Eat-Chil had some intelligence since he'd been lurking to toy with me. But actual human-like communication? An apology from a youkai? I had no good response, so I'd faked insanity and screamed. Never expected this outcome. Baffling, sure, but I wasn't letting my guard down. This was a youkai. It could snap and pounce anytime.
After apologizing, the youkai stayed silent, not initiating talk. Like a human sulking after a scolding, gauging the mood—but I doubted a youkai would pull that. Probably testing me. I chose my words carefully.
"You gonna stay here? Don't you need to go home?"
"Can't. Main Gate's locked."
So that flimsy door worked. Couldn't climb over, huh? Kim Eat-Chil's mouth cracked open slightly.
"You gonna open it?"
Not quite as grotesque as before, but a faint smirk. No way was I opening it. The rules said lock the Main Gate first at shift start for a reason. Opening it now could spell disaster. But if I didn't, would this youkai just loiter? As I agonized, Kim Eat-Chil giggled.
"Just kidding."
With that, the youkai stirred. I flinched back, but it veered to the 2nd-Year Class 2 door, entered, and shut it behind.
Rules for here again? <2nd-Year Class 2> You're safe as long as you don't sit on chairs or desks.
Safe? Didn't it just go in? I peeked through the window. Kim Eat-Chil sat at a front desk, head turned my way. What did "safe" even mean? As long as the place itself didn't harm you directly? Aside from the Guard Room, nowhere was truly safe. I get it now.
Kim Eat-Chil stayed put, so I locked the 2nd-Year Class 2 door. That wrapped up my long, grueling shift.
Back in the Guard Room, I fired up the Gallery right away. It was buzzing with chit-chat. Were they all wrapping shifts like me? Curiosity killed the cat—or satisfied it here. Had to ask.
ConvenienceSuni kept explaining as I kept questioning. Folks dropped here have different jobs, so shifts vary. Two main types: short shifts with free time after, or all-day marathons with no breaks. I asked if the latter wasn't brutal. She said the work's easier.
Her rundown cleared it up. So, now what?
Chat about what, though? Like when a prof asks for questions and you're blank. Game vets loved noob queries, right? Plenty here. Tackled shift curiosities first.
Fierce denials. But admin commented, so I spilled details.
Questions breed more questions. Predecessor popped up, sparking curiosity. Who was he? How'd he die? Posted immediately—no replies. Mood killed by death talk? About to delete when...
Admin himself. Didn't expect that. Death's heavy, but fair game. I had a right to know—I was working here.
Escape? Not yet. Still green on shifts, school layout. Two unknown CCTV spots, even. But why matter?
Teasing without spilling—driving me nuts. I have to know. No secret too dark fit the bill. No replies meant everyone knew. I could handle it. Pestered admin relentlessly.
Pause. Then, not straight answer—a condition.
Guard Rules Booklet? Outta nowhere. Why? No reason to refuse—I trusted it fully.
Even post-oath, admin hesitated. But committed, I waited patiently. Five minutes later...
Shock. Annex? Rules said don't go there. And that creepy handprint-blood monster at the entrance? How'd he even enter? Think to enter? Fearless? Amid confusion...
Now it clicked. The oath—to keep me from doubting rules mid-shift and dying. Smart.