The Never-Ending Class (4) - The Rulebook
I stared blankly at the heavy black leather book clutched in my hand before quietly tucking it into the desk drawer and swiftly resuming my notes.
Startled by the Rulebook that had suddenly been yanked out of thin air, I had stopped writing—and the frequency with which the black teacher glanced my way spiked sharply.
Whether I had timed it just right or not, the black teacher finally began to relax his scrutiny again. Feigning diligent note-taking, I groped under the desk with one hand.
The unmistakable feel of leather against my fingertips left me unable to hide a mixture of unease and inexplicable relief.
Enduring the pounding in my skull, I watched from the corner of my eye, waiting for the right moment. The instant the teacher turned toward the blackboard, I secretly opened the book beneath the desk.
I flipped it open at random; it fell open somewhere around the middle.
■■■■ ■■ is ■■. This ■■, that is, the ■■ in which ■■■■ ■■ was created, is the ■■ of the existing ■■'s ■■s ■■—
…What… the hell…
Faced with the endless parade of black squares, I was half-incredulous—yet after a moment’s thought, I realized it might actually be a stroke of luck.
The first time I had seen this Rulebook, it had contained only information about escaping 666 Village.
The fact that the contents had abruptly changed meant it held information beyond 666 Village as well. I might be holding the only answer key that could explain this situation!
Even though the conclusion was my own, a strange certainty filled me. I began reading slowly once more, determined to understand somehow.
It wasn’t so much that the characters were simply ■; rather, something rippled and obscured them so they could not be read.
I idly ran my finger across the black squares, wondering what lay hidden beneath, when a sharp throb lanced through my head.
Only then did I notice another black shadow falling across the Rulebook.
Something stood right beside me, blocking the pale fluorescent light that had been illuminating the classroom.
Looking up, I found the black teacher—his face a vortex of eternal, ominous spirals—looming so close his presence filled my vision.
I had been so absorbed in the Rulebook that I had stopped writing for far too long!
Too close!
Before I could even think to close my eyes, madness flooded my mind.
The crimson abyss within the swirling face once again carved through my brain with the dregs of forbidden knowledge.
Inside my skull, explosively proliferating, contaminated knowledge ran wild; my head felt ready to burst. Through that sensation I faintly registered the same chill that had touched my neck that morning, now wrapping around the back of my skull.
Ah, fuck—
.
.
.
.
.
.
—Crack.
And. You. Died.
.
.
.
.
.
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.
.
—Bang!
The classroom door slammed shut just like that.
A searing pain flared in my shoulder at the same moment something razor-sharp sliced along the grain of the muscle in my neck—a bone-chilling sensation. Simultaneously, a shattering agony exploded at the back of my skull.
The pain was so vivid I nearly groaned, yet I barely managed to hold it in.
Every instinct screamed to pound on the door and shout, or force it open no matter what—but the gaze stabbing into my back made me freeze mid-reach.
A gut-deep certainty dropped into my chest like a stone.
The moment I try to open that door…
I die.
.
.
This was now the third morning I had seen.
I snapped fully awake and this time hurried straight back to my seat.
Sitting down, I groped through the empty air with my hands, but the leather of the Rulebook was nowhere to be felt.
I searched near my body, far away, up and down, left and right—every direction—yet the air gave no sign of anything.
The fear that I might never recover the Rulebook made my heart hammer and cold sweat break out, but I forced the turmoil down and thought carefully once more.
The Rulebook definitely exists.
I simply don’t know how to bring it forth.
Last time, what had I been doing when my fingers brushed it?
Right… I had been thinking deeply about the Rulebook, wondering where it was, and then—like this—
The moment my fingers touched the empty air, something invisible met them once again.
Pulling with the same sensation as drawing a book from a shelf, an ominous black leather volume materialized in my hand as if forged from the void itself.
I swiftly shoved the reappeared Rulebook into the desk drawer.
The instant I finished, the front door of the classroom burst open and the black teacher strode in.
I turned my head naturally, careful not to let him enter my field of vision.
As I turned, a tearing pain lanced through the muscles of my neck.
I felt for the spot, but thankfully there was no wound.
The grotesque salute began. The moment the chill sensation rushed in, I bowed my head.
After the unpleasant punishment period for the student who had failed to salute ended and I raised my head again, a dull, ringing ache now radiated gently from the back of my skull.
Hmm…
Chewing over the faint pain and my thoughts, I waited until the monstrous roar commanding us to take out our books sounded. This time I pulled out both my notebook and the Rulebook, placing them on the desk.
I watched carefully for a reaction, but nothing seemed amiss, so I opened the notebook and then tried to open the Rulebook as well.
Strangely, the first page—and the entire early section—refused to open, as if glued shut and hardened.
Flipping quickly through with my fingers confirmed it: just like last time, it only began to open from somewhere in the middle.
I opened the book and positioned it carefully right behind the chair of the student in front of me so it would be hard to spot from the front. In front of myself I spread the notebook, pen in one hand, and began scribbling whatever words came to mind.
After repeating this class several times, I had learned something useful: as long as I didn’t stop writing completely, jotting down random nonsense in between didn’t draw the black teacher’s attention.
Unless I made the same mistake as last time, I probably wouldn’t die during class.
…Still, better stay careful just in case.
I made that silent resolution and examined the book.
As expected, incomprehensible sentences filled with endless ■ continued.
I spent time trying different words, inserting them here and there, but made little progress, so I turned the page.
After flipping through several pages dense with ■, I suddenly came upon a page where, despite scattered black squares, the writing was dense and actually readable.
I read through it, organizing my thoughts, and began copying the letters into the notebook beside me.