Where's the Exit from Engineering Building 5?

Fortunately—or perhaps not—I spent the day resting at home without Yeom Sang-hyeon dragging me out, and the next morning arrived.

Maybe it was because I had kept sleeping straight through from the previous day the moment I got back that morning, but this time I woke up earlier than usual without that agonizing debate over whether to stay in bed just a little longer, body heavy with exhaustion.

I opened my eyes before the alarm even went off. Physical fatigue was completely gone, of course, and even the mental weariness felt reasonably restored. It was like carefully piecing broken glass back together—fine for ordinary daily life, no real hindrance.

From the last school ghost story escape, that experience of having something carved into my body had taught me the one-week cycle for experiencing these tales. So rather than forcing myself into another one, I figured I could take a bit more rest, prepare properly, and just get through the days.

Sorting my thoughts roughly, I got out of bed, ate breakfast, and was about to put on my uniform when I paused at the wrecked state of the one I usually wore. I pulled the spare uniform I kept ready from the drawer instead.

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As I buttoned the dress shirt, a random thought crossed my mind: if the extra reward had been the dress shirt I brought back from Neapolitan School, what kind of function would it have had?

Erase presence?

Disguise as another student?

I tossed a few options around, shrugged, and let the thought go as I finished dressing. Fresh clothes on, bag over my shoulder, I put my hand on the front door.

— Zzzt.

A small electronic crackle sounded above my head.

No way…

Another Neapolitan ghost story?

My heart rate spiked, muscles tightening as my body tensed—then a voice spilled from the speaker.

"Recently—damage from fires has—been increasing—so residents are asked—to take special care—First, when going out, please check the gas—"

…Just a normal public announcement.

I checked my watch; there was plenty of time to get to school. Just in case it really was a Neapolitan ghost story, I stood there and listened all the way through. It was only the apartment complex fire-safety notice.

"—And finally—the owner of vehicle 55 ○○○○, please… move your car from the unauthorized parking space in the basement—This has been a message from the management office—"

At this point even ordinary announcements were starting to feel like ghost stories. My head ached. I shook it off and stepped out the front door.

Maybe because I left so early, I never ran into Yeom Sang-hyeon on the way and arrived at school alone.

No… maybe not running into him was the real luck.

I could already picture exactly how he would grin that harmless, sunny smile and say:

"Oh? Hyung! Fancy meeting you here! Whoa! But we've still got some time before class—wanna hit the field for some exercise? Or soccer maybe?"

…Yeah, he would totally say that. I shuddered and hurried through the school gate.

Climbing the stairs still felt a little rough thanks to yesterday's memories, but nothing happened. I reached the classroom and sat down.

Looking around at the classmates sprawled irregularly in their seats, something felt off. Originally they had all sat in identical mannequin-like postures at every desk.

…No. This was the original. This was normal.

I corrected the illusion, pulled a notebook from my bag, opened it, and took up a pen.

…No. I didn't need that kind of preparation right now.

After dying over and over inside that ghost-story classroom, the posture had become almost compulsive habit. I relaxed it and took out my phone instead.

I unlocked the familiar pattern, checked a few YouTube subscriptions, found nothing worth watching, and switched to SNS. I was happily scrolling reels when the classroom suddenly got loud. Students were pouring in. I checked the time—about five minutes before the start of the school day.

Right. This was how it should be. I nodded to myself and waited. Soon the teacher came through the classroom door.

I almost turned my head away on reflex, then reminded myself once more that this was reality and faced forward.

The ghost-story aftereffects were still hitting pretty hard.

"Alright—ten, nine, eight, seven—"

The teacher stuck her head into the hallway and began the countdown in a gentle voice. Hurried footsteps echoed. She slowed the final numbers, letting as many students as possible slip in, then stood at the podium and explained the day's schedule.

Yeah… if this were the ghost-story classroom, that would be unthinkable. No way. Late and your head just flies off.

The students in front at least pretended to listen; the ones in back whispered among themselves. Me? I just sat there.

After morning assembly I went to the bathroom, then morning classes began. Being able to go to the bathroom during class, talk with friends, and especially eat lunch—each of those still surprised me all over again.

The leftover habit of absolute focus from the ghost story meant I was basically the only one fully awake during fifth period. The history teacher even praised me for the first time in my life.

Wondering and marveling at every ordinary little thing, I cycled through classes and breaks until, in the blink of an eye, the entire school day was over.

…Huh. After going into a ghost story once and coming back out, our school almost felt like a place you could actually enjoy attending.

I packed my bag, finished everything, and opened the classroom door—only for Yeom Sang-hyeon to pop out right beside me.

"……W-wow. You. Scared. Me."

Sorry, but after dozens of jump scares and things that actually terrified me on the other side, this barely registered. If he really wanted to startle me, he should at least put in the effort and show up covered in blood like the entities inside the stories.

"Whoa! You didn't even flinch?! Your complexion looks great today! You left early yesterday, but looks like you're feeling better!"

"Yeah. So why are you here?"

"Why? Don't you remember our call yesterday?"

No… I remembered, but…

"Didn't you have plans?"

"Plans?"

I jerked my chin toward the space over his shoulder. Two girls were half-hiding around the corner of the wall, though their indoor shoes and hair made me wonder if they had actually intended to stay hidden.

"Ah, it's nothing much—anyway, nothing going on today, right?"

"Nothing, but…"

"Then how about a quick run today?"

"…In our uniforms?"

"Oh! Then wear your PE clothes if you want! I was only planning something light anyway, and I already borrowed the gym key from the PE teacher!"

"Fine… whatever—"

As expected, Yeom Sang-hyeon's energy was overflowing.

"Then come to the gym. I'll head over first!"

With that casual parting shot and zero warning, he sprinted the opposite way down the hallway where the girls had been hiding, then vanished down the stairs in a flash.

I looked toward the corner. The girls were gone too.

…I stood there a moment, gave up trying to understand the situation, slung my bag over my shoulder, and started toward the gym.

I arrived at the gym, opened the door, and found Yeom Sang-hyeon already stretching hard in every direction.

"…You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠said it would be light."

"Well… even for light exercise, stretching beforehand is essential."

"Ah… yeah, fair enough."

I accepted it and started stretching beside him.

"So… what about those girls earlier?"

"Ah. Really nothing. You know, the usual—DMs around the start of every semester, sometimes even old-school letters in envelopes, that kind of thing."

…Now he just looked annoying.

"Hyung, you've probably gotten plenty of those too, right?"

"…"

I didn't add a single word. This bastard just had to hit a sore spot.

We finished warming up in silence. After quite a while I asked,

"What about the stuff you mentioned yesterday morning—gym, CrossFit, that kind of thing?"

"Ah—I thought about those too, of course. But matching the plan to your fitness level is important. I want to check your stamina first and build the program around that."

So he had it all planned out.

I nodded and started an easy jog with him.

One lap, two, three—my breathing grew rougher in proportion to the rising lap count.

"—How about just one more lap for now?"

Fine, just one more.

— Ten minutes later

"Since it's light exercise, let's just do a little more and wrap up."

…Okay, a little more.

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— Thirty minutes later

"Really the last one! The real final lap!"

…Just kill me already.

— Forty minutes later

"The real real final lap!"

I kept running until I simply collapsed face-down. Lying there, just breathing hard, Yeom Sang-hyeon walked over and said brightly,

"Still, your stamina is amazing! I'll put together a plan based on this level! Great work today!"

This bastard… might not even be human…

How the hell does he have that kind of stamina… it doesn't make sense…

On the way home after that whole ordeal, I dragged my reasonably recovered body along. Luckily, even after all that running, my muscles weren't in screaming pain—just a general lack of strength as I walked.

But I already knew the real pain would hit the next morning after I woke up. I sighed and stepped into the elevator.

Once I got home safely, I sat for a moment in the entryway, turned on my phone, and checked SNS for any news. One post from a ghost-story account caught my eye.

— Click.

Time passed; the automatic light over the shoe cabinet went out, leaving the entryway dark. I focused on the post.

This was the hottest post?

I frowned and tapped it.

The attached photo, apparently taken by the poster, showed only a pitch-black corridor that would be barely visible even with phone brightness maxed out.

…Why does this have so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠many likes?

With a blank face I scrolled down.

And the very first comment caught my eye.

"….!"

Okay, that was actually pretty creepy…

I checked the replies under the comment and decided to lie down on the bed to read the rest.

I planted my hand on the floor to push myself up.

Instead of the wooden floor of my apartment, the smooth, cold chill of marble spread through my palm and into my entire body.

My heart dropped hard.

…But… no way a post that short is… Neapolitan too?

"Ah, for real, cut the bullshit!"

I shouted as I shot to my feet—but I was no longer home. I was standing in the corridor from the photo.