The Fourth Letter of Misfortune
The fourth Letter of Misfortune had arrived. Just as I was about to pull it from the mailbox, Aurora spoke up with a suggestion this time. The mood had finally loosened up a bit. A good flow, indeed. It seemed I'd made the right call treating these letters as a tutorial for club activities. There was hardly any horror or violence, and the danger level was low, so it was psychologically less burdensome.
"What if we just don't read the letter at all?"
"The letter?"
"If the curse activates only when you read it, then maybe we can avoid it entirely by never touching it from the start?"
I pondered her proposal for a moment. It wasn't 100% logically sound, but it wasn't nonsense worth dismissing either.
...Worth a shot.
"You're right. To make sure we don't accidentally touch it, let's seal it inside the mailbox and lock it away. Just like we did with the paper crane."
"But, Teacher. If we don't read it, how will we know the time limit? And isn't it risky to just leave it without knowing what's inside?"
"From our experience so far, the time limit on these letters isn't that long. Five minutes at the shortest, maybe thirty at most. And the content? It'll probably just be some tricky mission baiting us to spread the letters. The punishment misfortune isn't written in the letter anyway, so nothing new there."
"But still..."
"Elaine, you're full of worries. Fine, I'll keep the letter safe so we can react immediately if something happens."
Elaine had been the last holdout with her objections, but even she had to yield to Rone's bold assurance. With that, we sealed the letter tightly in the mailbox and handed it to Rone to hold.
And so, five minutes passed. Ten. Thirty.
Ding-dong-dang-dong.
Even when the break bell finally rang, nothing had happened in the clubroom.
"...It's quiet."
"Was not reading it from the start really the solution?"
"Letters only mean anything if someone reads them, after all."
"Any ghost story resolution message?"
"No. Looks like this doesn't count as officially resolving it. But figuring out that the attack stops just by not reading it is a huge win. Means we don't have to race against time anymore..."
That was when it happened.
Clunk!
"...No way. Is the time limit up now?"
"The punishment's activating!"
"But with Rone holding the mailbox tight, nothing should—"
Clunk! Clunkclunkclunkclunkclunkclunkclunkclunk!
"Ahh! It's too strong!!"
Rone was clearly putting all her strength into holding down the thrashing letter inside the mailbox. But the supernatural force it unleashed this time was on another level entirely. As if everything before had been a joke, a full-blown poltergeist shook the entire room. Before we could help, Rone couldn't hold on and dropped it.
And in that instant, the envelope floated out from the fallen mailbox. It tore open in midair on its own, unfolding the letter.
We'd planned for this: if the envelope opened by chance, everyone would close their eyes and look away. But that plan was meaningless.
As if it absolutely refused to let us avoid reading, an overwhelming compulsion seized our bodies, forcing our eyes open and burning the letter's words into our minds.
You've rejected my offer of reconciliation after all. I've given you chance after chance.
Rejecting my goodwill time and again. I'll abandon this half-hearted plan to spread the Letter of Misfortune through you.
I'll just kill you and find the next recipient.
But even so, I'll give you one last chance. If you sincerely repent your wrongs and beg my forgiveness, I might grant you another opportunity.
Your mission: Take any sharp weapon. Stab anyone with a knife. Killing them would be even better.
If you reject this too, the misfortune coming for you will be on a whole different level.
Time limit: Until the next break bell rings.
The letter's contents seared into our eyes. It reeked of a sticky, murderous intent unlike before.
"The content... It's different from the others, isn't it?"
"It feels ominous..."
I wasn't the only one who sensed it. Aurora and Rozalia looked terrified too. We'd finally eased their fears enough to face ghost stories, only for them to shrink back again. But I couldn't blame them.
Because even I was overwhelmed by the letter's words.
"Wait. So what misfortune is coming this time?"
Elaine's question snapped me out of my daze. ...!! Right. Dwelling on the contents now was pointless. Time had already passed regardless. Shaking off the shock, I prepared for the next assault.
"Kyaaah!!"
But the assault never came.
Because...
"Rone!! Teacher, Rone's been—!!"
"She's been stabbed with a knife!!!"
The ghost story had already struck. Not me this time—Rone.
Rushing to her, I saw Rozalia was right: a sharp dagger was embedded in her abdomen.
"Everyone, don't touch Rone! Tampering with the wound now could make it worse and cause heavy bleeding..."
Clang! Psssh!
As I fought my panic to give instructions, the dagger twisted on its own, mocking my judgment, and slid out of her body. Blood instantly soaked her uniform at terrifying speed.
"Damn it!!"
I rushed over, pressing my palm to staunch the bleeding, but the gushing wound was too much for one hand.
"...Sorry. My fault. I misjudged..."
"Ha, haha. It's okay. I agreed too. And we can rewind..."
"Right. Rewind—right now, rewind and fix this...!"
Then Rone grabbed my hand. Hers had no strength left, but I couldn't ignore it.
"Save rewinding... for the last resort."
"But you'll—"
"I don't want to hold everyone back."
"..."
As long as the club existed, death was temporary for us. Not permanent loss. I'd staked my life countless times against ghost stories myself. Sometimes death was inevitable in the fight. Maybe even necessary to uncover hints.
I knew that, but...
Regret for my carelessness. Guilt and sorrow for Rone. I'd let my guard down too much. You can never relax against ghost stories.
I'd thrown my life away multiple times to resolve them. Even seen others caught in the crossfire while I did. But watching Rone collapse before my eyes was different.
Because I invited these students to the club. My deaths were my choice; massacres of bystanders were beyond my control. But Rone wouldn't have joined without me. If she died fighting ghost stories, it was as good as me killing her.
The other members watched her fade with heavy hearts. It was their first time seeing someone critically injured right in front of them. Elaine stayed composed, having seen me die several times.
Strength was draining from Rone's body. Her small frame made the blood loss even more fatal. Her complexion paled by the second.
...Complexion?
"...Elaine. Got any cookies?"
"...Cookies?"
Elaine, grieving Rone's impending death, blinked in confusion. But I had no time to explain leisurely either. Rone's body was cooling in real time under my hands.
"The red ones. From resolving Mr. Brandon's ghost story."
"Ah...!!"
Elaine caught on quickly. But disappointment followed.
"W-what do we do? I forgot about that bread bag these past few days and left it in the dorm... Huh? When did it get in my pocket...?"
Elaine pulled a bread bag from her pocket, bewildered. But no time for that mystery now. I snatched it, extracting one of the two snacks inside: the red cookie.
Aurora and Rozalia, unfamiliar with Mr. Brandon, looked puzzled, but I ignored them.
[Relic] Cookies and candy made with Mr. Brandon's 'special' secret recipe.
Each snack has special effects when consumed.
Improves complexion for a certain time when eaten.
Disappears when eaten.
The vague description that stumped us at first. Now I got it.
I broke off a small piece for Rone to swallow easily and slipped it into her mouth. Her pale lips struggled, but as the red cookie dissolved, the effect kicked in immediately. Her ghostly white skin regained its vibrant glow.
One of Mr. Brandon's snacks. The red cookie.
My hunch was right. Its true effect: suspending death.