Night Patrol and Rising Doubts
Starting with the discovery of the first anomaly in the manual ghost story, we gradually picked up the pace as we patrolled the first floor. Second classroom. “Here's an anomaly. Our dead bodies are reflecting in the mirror.” Third classroom. “No anomalies here, I guess.” “...Yeah. No matter how much I look, nothing seems off. Let's move on.” Fourth classroom. “A blackboard where bloody writing appears on its own. We'd know the moment we step in.” Anomalies during the patrol were blatantly impossible phenomena at a glance, and we spotted them without much trouble. If anything, the times with no anomalies drained our mental energy more, as we second-guessed whether one might be hiding. Come to think of it, the night patrol manual mentioned it: difficulty increases from lower floors to higher ones. I didn't like the idea of it getting tougher upstairs, but the first floor was so straightforward that a little focus was all it took to handle without mistakes. Before long, we reached the last classroom on the first floor. The final one was our own class, 1-A. “Alright. Last one's our 1-A classroom. I know the layout like the back of my hand, so let's make this quick!” Elaine, brimming with confidence from familiarity, reached for the door without hesitation. “Hold up!!!” But right before she touched it, I urgently stopped her. “Eek, you scared me... What's wrong all of a sudden?” “....Look over there.” In response to her question, I lifted the lantern with a stiff expression. There, illuminated for the first time, were blood-red handprints densely covering every classroom window—things invisible in the prior darkness. It was a horrific, ominous sight, as if countless people on the other side of the glass had been desperately waiting for us to slip through. “Night patrol rule six: Classrooms with handprints on the windows occasionally appear. No need to patrol them—and you absolutely shouldn't.” “It was so dark, I didn't see a thing.” “Guess we got complacent since it was the last room on the first floor. Stay sharp, no slacking.” “Yes.... Sorry.” “Don't sweat it. Covering each other's slip-ups is the point of teams of two.” “You're right.” Elaine's mistake nearly caused disaster, but I caught it just in time, letting us wrap up even the last first-floor room. On to the second floor. The manual said the central stairs were off-limits, but our end-to-end corridor patrol meant we'd never accidentally use them anyway. We took the edge stairs as instructed and ascended to the second floor. Upon arriving in the second-floor hallway, out of habit, I double-checked the night patrol rules. In the academy corridors shrouded in total darkness—even moonlight hidden by clouds—I relied solely on the lantern's glow to scrutinize the black ink on the worn paper. Second-floor peculiarities. That would be room 8, the music room. “Elaine, be careful of the music room on this floor. If you hear music from there.... Plug your ears immediately, close your eyes, huddle against the wall, and crouch. Got it?” “Got it. I won't mess up this time, for real.” Elaine nodded firmly, tension etched on her face. And so the second-floor patrol began. True to the manual's warning about increasing difficulty, the anomalies here were craftier than on the first floor. Posters that tracked our movements with glaring eyes. A human model with a living, beating heart. Once noticed, they were unmistakably impossible ghost-story phenomena, but disguised as everyday objects, they nearly slipped past us several times. If I'd been alone, I might've died already. But thankfully, Elaine was with me. She spotted creepy signs I missed, and I caught the ones she overlooked. Leaning on each other, we barely made it through the second-floor corridor. Then came the moment we passed the music room the manual had warned about. “Finally halfway through the second floor. Hope we get past the music room quietly....” ~♪ ~♬ As if my words jinxed it, a piano melody pierced the eerie academy air from the music room. “Elaine!” “Y-Yes!!” Thankfully, unlike on the first floor, she'd stayed alert since arriving upstairs. The instant the music started, she plastered herself to the wall. I, too, clamped my eyes and ears shut before the melody could daze me, then crouched against the wall. There it is. The law of manual ghost stories: Warnings with words like “occasionally” or “sometimes” might as well say “always” or “inevitably.” Swallowing a curse under my breath, I pressed my hands harder over my ears, fearing any leak. A hazy afterecho lingered in my ears. When would this hellish tune end? ...Wait. With my ears blocked, how do I even know when the damn music stops? Am I supposed to guess and hold out till it feels about right? But how long is “about right”? If I uncover too soon because it ended earlier than I thought, or too late and the music's still playing when I do.... Trapped in this hopeless bind—unable to listen or block forever—I could only huddle helplessly on the corridor floor, waiting out the time. How much time passed? Amid the sticky silence and mounting anxiety, a faint movement stirred behind me. Flinch! A ghostly touch. I felt cold fingers tap my shoulder. Was this another ghost-story trick to make me hear the music? Suspicion flashed through my mind, but the tapping persisted, and the sensation wasn't cold or threatening. “...Teacher. It's over.” I eased my hand just enough to hear a cautious voice faintly at my ear. “Uh.... Elaine? How...?” I stammered. My question came out garbled with confusion, but she understood. “Yes, it's me. I figured the music had probably ended by now... so I carefully peeked by loosening my hand over my ear, and it really wasn't playing anymore.” Her trembling voice carried a sigh of relief. Only then did I cautiously lower my hands. The empty corridor was once again cloaked in heavy silence, as if nothing had happened. I finally exhaled in relief and chided her. “Good. Thanks to you, we're alive.... But that was reckless. What if the music hadn't stopped?” “Then you'd survive for both of us and resolve all these horrors, right?” “Well, sure, but....” Elaine spoke of her own death so casually, as if it were obvious. Her matter-of-fact attitude left me flustered instead. I'd chosen to stand night duty alone today precisely to get us used to risking death for each other, but.... “Even if I died, leaving a mark in your heart would be my victory, wouldn't it?” “....” Was she trying to lighten the awkward mood? She grinned playfully. But hearing that made my head go ice-cold, like a bucket of freezing water. Why talk like death would be permanent this time? For us, death was temporary, not forever. Thinking back, things had been off all along. Acting like she knew less about ghost stories than usual. Making basic mistakes she wouldn't normally. As if deliberately trying to put me in danger. Realizing this, I quietly put distance between us. “Huh? Teacher?” “...Just one question. Are you definitely Elaine?” As I backed away, Elaine first looked puzzled, then hurt as she grasped my meaning. “...Are you seriously suspecting me right now?” “Night patrol rule eleven: The midnight academy has only the duty teacher—no students remain. To be honest, I'm doubting if you're a ghost story. If you came to help me, why not bring the other students?” “I'm not a ghost story!!” Flushing with indignation, Elaine shot back. “Can you prove your claim?” “I read the manual too! It says 'remaining' students are fakes. Nothing about ones who come from outside! I left after school, came back after dorm roll call!” Anger confirmed: the manual did specify “remaining” students. Tears welling, shocked at my suspicion, she added, “How could you doubt me? I came to this potentially haunted academy at night to help you.... Sure, I messed up a bit today, but didn't I just save you!?” “R-Right. Sorry. Guess my nerves are frayed.” Soothing her belatedly, I watched her sniffle before she asked in a choked voice, “...And didn't you know why I came alone?” “Wh-What...?” “Teacher Allen. Why do you think I snuck here alone without the others? Don't you get what that means? Or are you pretending not to?” “Wh-What're you saying out of nowhere? We're solving ghost stories right now. Save personal talk for later.” “...So you'll talk personally with me later?” “Argh! Back off! Don't cling!” “Huh? Teacher, are you embarrassed?” I'd meant to grill her, but somehow I ended up cornered. Feeling blood rush to my face, I pried her off. Never imagined she'd approach me like this—I spent a while calming my fluster. Once composed and thoughts sorted, I asked Elaine, “B-But seriously.... Was that true?” “What? Why I came alone? Gotta spell it out, huh? Hehe.” “No, not that. You said you entered from outside. I locked every external door before sleeping.... How'd you get in?” Elaine laughed at my words. “Oops? Busted?”