Uncle Brandon's Demise
Uncle Brandon.
Uncle Brandon has been resolved.
Elaine Astraea has resolved the ghost story, purified the aberration, and absorbed the resentment.
The Uncle Brandon ghost story has vanished, leaving behind a relic.
Almost the instant Uncle Brandon vanished, a message window popped up before my eyes. Now, even if I chanted something like "Did I get him?" it wouldn't rewind anymore. My Gift guaranteed it.
"Student, what have you done?!"
"Hurry and get treated...! Wait, where did the baker go!? He just vanished right in front of us!"
"No, no! More importantly, didn't you notice until now? That baker was weird! He looked exactly like Uncle Brandon from the ghost stories!!"
"Why didn't we notice?!"
"Kyaaah!! This can't be real!!"
In that moment, their minds filled with distorted memories. With the ghost story's demise, the power that had warped the teachers' perceptions vanished too. Their sense of reality snapped back abruptly, plunging them into chaos as they struggled to regain their wits. Amid the collective panic, the only ones keeping our heads were me and Elaine. I met her gaze wordlessly, and the moment our eyes locked, she abandoned the teachers and slipped out of the tuck shop.
We darted out of the tuck shop and, before anyone could come looking for us, hurried to the academy's sealed room.
"Whoa, Teacher. When did you snag the key to the sealed room?"
"I slipped it from the staff room before heading to the tuck shop."
"Impressive. Oh, but... we did resolve the ghost story just now, right?"
"Yeah. Confirmed by my Observation."
"Finally!"
We slipped into the sealed room away from prying eyes, locked the door tight, and finally shared our victory joy. She always landed the finishing blow flawlessly—just like with the infinite loop ghost story. I resolved never to show her my back from now on.
"No, there's one last cleanup task."
"There's more to do?"
"Of course. We rewind."
"Obviously. If we don't rewind now, my school life is toast!"
"Not just for that, but yeah."
Defeating Uncle Brandon was great, but we'd exposed ourselves too much to the teachers in the process. Since we'd exorcised him, dredging up those memories now wouldn't strengthen him anymore. Still, in a situation where knowing about ghost stories at all was bad news, rewinding wasn't optional—it was essential.
"Alright. See you back at this morning, then."
"Yeah. Later—no, see you earlier."
With a light heart, I grinned and raised my hand. Recalling the sensation from the first time using the sealed room...
Recalling...
Eh?
"Hold up. Something's off."
"What's off?"
"The rewind isn't working."
"Huh? No way. Don't joke. If you won't do it, I will?"
Elaine laughed at my words and raised her hand, but soon confusion bloomed on her face.
"Wh-what? Why isn't it rewinding?"
I'd only triggered the rewind myself once, but compared to that memory, the sealed room now felt like a dry well. Like a furnace with no more firewood to burn. I immediately observed the room.
[Reminiscence]
This club room is imbued with the resentment of someone who wished joyful, happy times here would never end.
Once, by the user's will, it defied time repeatedly. But now, its fuel is completely depleted.
My senses were spot on. The message confirmed the finite rewind chances had run dry.
"T-Teacher... why isn't it working...?"
"...We've used up all the uses."
"So we can't rewind anymore?"
Elaine's voice started to waver at my words. I was struggling to keep a straight face too. No rewinding didn't just mean figuring out how to handle this mess—it meant clearing the next three years of ghost stories without a single death, in one coin no-continue run. I knew the rewinds weren't infinite, but I hadn't expected them to bottom out this fast. My vision seemed to darken.
Wait. Not broken—depleted fuel?
Simple implication: Refuel it, and we can use it again.
A normal machine might run on kerosene. But something tied to ghost stories? No way it takes ordinary fuel. It needs "special fuel" befitting a ghost story.
...
"Elaine. Try once more."
"...I've been trying, but it won't budge."
"No, this time don't use the room. Imagine injecting the energy you got from toppling Uncle Brandon into it."
"Eh? Inject?"
Following my instructions, Elaine raised her hand and focused. Soon, a white mist-like substance emerged from her body and melted into the room's air.
[Reminiscence]
This club room is imbued with the resentment of someone who wished joyful, happy times here would never end.
Not overflowing, but enough for a few more uses.
There we go.
"Just like you said, Teacher. Something got pulled out of me. What's that about?"
"According to the status explanation, what came out was the resentment you absorbed after toppling Uncle Brandon. The room uses that resentment as fuel to turn back time. It was depleted, so we refilled it with what we got from him."
Resentment. I'd flipped the infinite loop ghost story's resentment to awaken my Gift of Observation, and the resentment from Uncle Brandon recharged the time-rewinding room.
What the hell even is resentment, anyway? Another thing to ponder.
"Anyway, we've topped up the fuel for now. We can rewind."
"Really?"
Elaine, who'd been on the verge of tears, let out a sigh of relief.
"Phew. Almost became the academy's cafeteria knife murderer."
"Same here. I nearly got branded a tyrannical elitist teacher on my second day."
After that rollercoaster of joy, panic, and relief—bad for our mental health—we finally prepped for the real rewind.
"But Teacher, if we rewind like this, won't Uncle Brandon come back too?"
Elaine asked right before, as if it just occurred to her.
"Nah. He won't. We rewound during the infinite loop ghost story, but the vanished one didn't return. And this room and my Gift persisted through rewinds before we got them. My hypothesis: exorcised ghost stories get absorbed into me, turning into Gifts or fuel for rewinds—changing form to escape the rewind's effects."
If resentment itself rewound, the room would revert to full fuel every time, enabling infinite loops. Elaine nodded, convinced.
"Yeah, that makes sense."
"Alright, rewinding for real now. We'll talk the rest later."
"Which is actually earlier. Hehe."
With the essentials sorted, I raised my hand. My will responded, and my vision went pure white.
......
As expected, Uncle Brandon didn't revive.
I bolted to the tuck shop with Elaine without hesitation, but no Uncle Brandon—just the tuck shop owner from the academy's first day staring blankly at us from the counter. Though I'd confidently told Elaine he wouldn't revive, I'd been secretly sweating it. I surreptitiously patted my chest in relief.
But I played it cool for her.
"Alright, confirmed no Uncle Brandon. Time to head back."
"Oh, Allen Teacher. Check this out."
She pulled something small from her bag.
"Bread bag?"
"When I woke up this morning, this was in my bed. Since it survived the rewind, it must be from toppling Uncle Brandon..."
It was a small paper bag for bread or cookies, the plain kind sold at the academy tuck shop.
"What, a snack for a job well done?"
[Relic]
Cookies and candy made with Uncle Brandon's "special" secret recipe. Each snack has special effects when consumed.
"...Damn it."
Of course. Inside the wrapper: one cookie and one candy.
The cookie was an ominous crimson, like it was baked from blood—probably was. The candy? Even worse. Could you call that candy? Veins of red spiderwebbed across it, pupil-less eyes staring...
Stop.
Improves complexion for a time when eaten.
Disappears when eaten.
Improves eyesight for a time when eaten.
Disappears when eaten.
Grotesque appearance, vague effects. Of course. This world wouldn't hand out normal snacks. I knew that. Just a brief delusion.
Elaine grimaced at the contents too.
"Kyaa! What is this!?"
"...Keep it safe for now. Definitely not ordinary. Don't eat it carelessly."
"No way!"
She resealed the wrapper tight and stowed it carefully in her bag.
"Sour note to the end."
"...But seeing this makes it feel really over."
I agreed there.
Ding—dong—dang—dong—
While dawdling outside the tuck shop, the preliminary bell signaling the academy day's start rang.
"Ahh! We're gonna be late!"
"Me too, pass."
We bolted to the academy in a frenzy.
Thus, the Uncle Brandon ghost story fully vanished, and we returned to our brief daily routine.
Ah. After all that, the day's only just beginning.
...Already wanna quit.
......
Running, I thought.
Ghost stories grow stronger the more people know them. Spread too far, they shatter their ghost story mold and mythologize.
Mythologize, and it's game over.
So exorcise before that. Stop the outer god's revival.
Quietly, I added one word upfront.
We exorcise ghost stories and stop the outer god's revival.