Letter of Misfortune
“Phew. Finally took care of it.”
I felt the strength drain from my body as I read the message window that only I could see floating before my eyes, and I sank to the floor.
Ghost Story Resolved
Letter of Misfortune
“Um, Teacher. Is that it? Does that mean Elaine and Rone are…”
“Oh, right.”
This wasn't the time to be sitting here. The tension had released all at once, and I'd wasted time collapsing on the floor. First things first—time to rewind. I had to bring Elaine and Rone back.
Regaining my composure, I immediately activated the club room's ability to trigger the rewind.
Flash!
The point and place we returned to was right after we'd finished cleaning the Paranormal Investigation Club room, just before receiving the Letter of Misfortune. Thank goodness I'd updated the rewind point before getting the letter. No need to bother gathering in the club room again.
Having turned back time, I immediately looked around the club room. The room that had been wrecked by the letter's curse, the bloodstains scattered here and there, my broken arm—everything was back to normal.
“It's bright outside…. Time really went back.”
“T-this is the power to turn back time…! What an incredible power!”
“Allen Teacher. You succeeded.”
“Eh? Um? I definitely…”
And then, between Aurora and Rozalia, who were experiencing rewind for the first time and looking dazed, were Elaine and Rone, revived by the time reversal.
“…No. We did it together.”
I smiled at the two who had come back unharmed.
“More importantly, you two. Are your bodies okay? Any pain or wounds that haven't healed?”
“I'm fine. We've gone all the way back to before the Letter of Misfortune fully hit us.”
“Me too, perfectly fine.”
“More than that, I believed Teacher would succeed for sure!!”
“It's just a shame I couldn't witness the final moment of the ghost story with my own eyes!!”
Fortunately, the revived students showed no signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. They simply rejoiced purely at having resolved the ghost story.
Leaving the students to savor their recovered peace for a moment, I began calmly organizing the valuable knowledge and spoils I'd gained from resolving the ghost story.
The Letter of Misfortune ghost story was the first one we'd faced as a club activity.
It had been good training material for the students to learn how to deal with ghost stories and get a feel for the atmosphere, but for me, it was a precious real-world experience that yielded quite useful insights, knowledge, and spoils.
First off, more stress than expected. It wasn't my first time dealing with a ghost story, but this one was exceptionally stressful. At this rate, it'd be far more comfortable if I were the one dying while trying things out. When it was me on the verge of death, I could stay calm knowing the students would rewind after I died. But this time, it was the opposite—the students died first, leaving me to clean up the mess.
In that process, sending the students off first felt like immense pressure.
In the end, using the red cookie—a relic from defeating Mr. Brandon—as an unnecessary expenditure on Rone was a waste in that situation. Coldly speaking, the moment she was stabbed, it was better to write her off as out of commission. There was no need to waste a consumable like the red cookie just to prolong her life pointlessly.
Admittedly, using the red cookie led me to the idea of using the eyeball candy to resolve the ghost story. But letting emotions sway me into rash judgments like that in the future would be foolish. Not just for resolving ghost stories and preventing the world's end, but for protecting the students too.
…Protecting the students, huh. It seemed I'd immersed myself deeply in the role of teacher without realizing it.
Still, I couldn't afford to be shocked every time while dealing with ghost stories if I wanted to keep resolving them. I might need to train myself to get used to situations where students die soon.
But it wasn't all meaningless waste. From resolving the Letter of Misfortune, I'd gained new knowledge: the uses of the red cookie and eyeball candy.
The red cookie delays death from fatal wounds during the time it takes to digest, allowing normal activity. But it doesn't heal—the state is close to zombie-like. And seeing Rone become incapacitated again during the fever suggested it's limited to external injuries like cuts or punctures. Probably little effect on internal issues like disease or poison.
And the eyeball candy that came with the red cookie. While held in the mouth, it dramatically amplifies vision beyond mere improvement, letting ordinary humans see things they shouldn't. Not just superhuman sight down to individual dust particles in the air, but even reading the contents of a letter hidden in an opaque paper bag. That was true x-ray vision, not just backlighting paper to see through.
But the backlash hits proportionally to the time held: severe headache and dizziness upon spitting it out.
Crucially, both are consumables that vanish after one use, unlike the semi-permanent club room.
I had Elaine check her inventory, and sure enough, the red cookie and eyeball candy in the bread bag were about half depleted. Used relics don't return even after rewinding, it seemed.
I had a guess about that. Just as a ghost story, once resolved and its resentment absorbed, doesn't revive even after rewind but becomes our experience—just maybe, the resentment composing the relics dissipates upon use, never returning.
And then. If the above two were internal club info reaffirmed this time, the third was entirely new.
I pulled a letter from my pocket that had been there for some time.
The last remaining letter from the Letter of Misfortune. Activates upon opening and permanently disappears.
“What is this? Even my Observation gift can't fully identify it…”
Given the club room and Mr. Brandon's relics, this surely had powerful effects… but without knowing what they were, it was meaningless. Unlike Mr. Brandon's relics, which could be used in parts, this vanished immediately upon use—no testing possible.
“Allen Teacher, what's that letter!? Does that mean the Letter of Misfortune isn't over!?”
“Kyaaah!! Angel of Misfortune!! This has to be the Angel of Misfortune's doing!!”
“No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.”
The students, joyful over the first ghost story resolution since the club's founding, freaked out the moment I pulled out the letter.
“Ah, no. This is…”
“Is that perhaps a relic we got from resolving this ghost story?”
“Yeah. Sharp as ever.”
“A r-relc?”
Fortunately, the panic subsided as Elaine quickly grasped the letter's nature.
I shared the description from my gift's observation with everyone.
“A letter whose name we can't know…? We can't tell what power it has?”
“How about we just open it and check?”
“Are you an idiot? You. It says it disappears upon opening.”
“Urk. That's a blind spot.”
The students jumped in with serious comments on the unknown letter. But with so little info even from my gift, no real answers emerged.
Then Elaine offered a sharp insight.
“Maybe our Observation is still insufficient?”
“Insufficient observation?”
“Yes. You said that when observing people, if you lack info on the target, even the gift doesn't reveal everything. Maybe the same here—insufficient understanding means we can't see full info.”
“That makes sense.”
Then later, I'd have to take time to ponder and infer the letter's contents.
In any case, that wrapped up the post-resolution reflection for the Letter of Misfortune ghost story.
With time rewound, it was still class time outside—too early to head back to the dorms. But after facing the Letter of Misfortune, we were mentally exhausted.
Overwhelmed by the mental fatigue, we ended the brief reflection and decided to return to our dorms. Dismissed.
…
“…”
Alone in the now-empty club room, Aurora stared at the floor, biting her lip in silence.
She was utterly ashamed of herself.
On the first day of club activities, she'd joined half-skeptical, half-excited and fearful about facing ghost stories. But when a real one appeared, she'd frozen and done nothing.
Elaine and Rone sacrificed themselves, and even Rozalia stepped up at the end, offering herself to help resolve it.
She could understand Elaine and Rone. Elaine was famous for acing the entrance exam from day one. She acted casually around Allen Teacher, but among students, she was aloof and mysterious. She was special.
Rone was special too, opposite Elaine's image. Despite her small stature, her athletic prowess was outstanding. Far from her fluffy squirrel-like appearance, she dashed around the academy solving problems proactively—a friendly, cute, reliable fixer.
For such special students, stepping up courageously in an extraordinary, otherworldly situation like a ghost story was natural.
But when even Rozalia—the one she'd secretly dismissed as a pretty airhead—stepped forward with courage and volunteered to sacrifice herself, Aurora could no longer make excuses.
Allen Teacher hadn't scolded her, but she already knew she'd been dead weight.
“…Pathetic.”
Wasn't Everlight Academy where she'd come to break from her old self and become new? Yet here she was again, surrounded by others' sacrifices, protected only by men. No different from before enrolling.
“I…”
Aurora gazed at her reflection in the club room window and removed her glasses, untying her hair.
Her studious, plain girl image vanished, replaced by a beauty that stirred men's protective instincts.
“…I'll never go back to that.”
The change was so drastic it was hard to believe it was the same person as her deliberately plain disguise.
But Aurora couldn't like this appearance. She'd dressed plainly on purpose, to that extent.
Her beauty that provoked protective instincts was a curse to her.
No. Her looks were just a catalyst amplifying her gift—the real curse was the gift itself.
The power to almost inevitably charm the opposite sex, turning same-sex into either followers or jealousy-blinded foes. Fascination.
That gift had charmed even her sister's fiancé against her will, shattering family ties.
That's why she'd joined the Paranormal Investigation Club. To prove through activity that she wasn't someone helplessly swayed by Fascination, dependent on others—that she could achieve things herself, competently.
That was one of her two reasons for coming to the academy.
“But like this, nothing's changed…”
After staring at her reflection for a long while, Aurora put her glasses back on and tied her hair with a resolute expression.
The countess's daughter, disowned by her family before coming to the academy, left the club room. Soon, no one remained.