Breaking the Unavoidable Prophecy
Even after Rozalia from Final Destination Rozalia vanished toward the academy, the ghost story wouldn't let us rest. Carriage wheels collapsing out of nowhere, a raccoon charging with a duck in its mouth, nearly drowning Edward right in the middle of the street. The ghost story tried to kill him in every bizarre, spine-chillingly inventive way imaginable. And finally, when we were completely exhausted and on the verge of collapse, Elaine arrived from the end of the alley.
"I'm sorry! I'm so late... Kyaaak! What on earth happened?!"
"N-N... too much has happened."
She spotted us and immediately screamed, staring in horrified shock. Our clothes were charred and torn in places, our hair disheveled, covered in dust and soot—we looked nothing like students or teachers from Everlight Academy, not even like the servants they might bring along.
We caught our breath and gave her a brief rundown of the "accidents" we'd endured over the past few hours since leaving the club room. It was a simple explanation, but Elaine grasped the situation in an instant. She nodded calmly and spoke.
"In a situation like this, the fact that I've been specifically called here means... there's something only I can do, right?"
"Quick on the uptake, as expected."
Elaine it is. Making sure Edward couldn't overhear, I whispered the new plan to her. It didn't take long—it was that straightforward. The strategy session wrapped up quickly, and Edward, who had been watching our huddle from a distance in silence, hesitantly spoke up.
"Um... why are you all going this far for me? What have I ever..."
His trembling voice mixed guilt and fear. Remorse for dragging us into his mess. But at the same time, terror that we might abandon him. Those contradictory emotions rang clear in his words.
Hah. A guy acting all pitiful like that isn't cute at all.
I patted his shoulder. "It's just what we do, so don't worry about it. We're the Paranormal Investigation Club, and you're our client. Besides, all this ends once Wednesday's over. Midnight's almost here—just hang in a little longer."
Tears welled up in Edward's eyes at my words. He bowed his head and murmured, "Really... thank you."
"No need to thank us."
I meant it. There was really no reason for him to be grateful.
Not after what we were about to do to him.
"You're probably just worn out, talking like that. You haven't eaten properly since dinner, running nonstop. Let's grab a quick snack to fill our stomachs. At least that'll give us some energy."
We'd been starving since before dinner and hadn't even caught a break, chased by the ghost story the whole time. Hunger gnawed at us fiercely.
"Ah! I'll go buy some snacks real quick!"
At my words, Elaine dashed into the street and returned with snacks. We were filthy beyond belief and had to keep an eye on Edward anyway.
The snacks she brought were far from a proper meal—just simple bites. But to us, who'd suffered without food since early evening, they were a feast.
We divided them up and ate. Edward initially refused, claiming no appetite, but after I kept offering him cookies, he finally took a bite... and soon devoured everything Elaine had brought.
With our bellies lightly filled, we recharged and stood ready once more.
This grueling fight was finally over.
...
The simple meal had steadied Edward somewhat too.
"Teacher... so, what's the plan?"
He looked at me with anxious eyes.
"Don't worry. I'll handle it—just trust me and follow my lead."
Instead of specifics, I patted his shoulder lightly. Unease flickered across his face again. He seemed about to press for details, lips twitching, but after I'd saved him from death's door multiple times, he couldn't bring himself to doubt me outright. He swallowed his words.
We set off again. No more desperately hunting for deserted spots like before. This time, we headed to an odd in-between: the junction of main streets and back alleys.
As if seeking the perfect spot for the next "accident."
And sure enough, it didn't take long before the ghost story struck.
It started with a champagne bottle dropped by a drunken reveler. The bottle rolled across the ground and "accidentally" wedged itself in front of a tavern door. Just then, the door "accidentally" swung open, "accidentally" hitting the cork dead-on, popping it. The exploding bottle flew, its champagne arc "accidentally" knocking a decoration from a nearby shop. Where it fell, a wooden plank lay "accidentally" like a lever—and on the other end sat a tub "accidentally" full of freshly washed knives and forks.
Finally, a barrage of knives and forks rained down on Edward.
His face drained of color as he screamed. "Uwaaaak!!"
And as his scream echoed, we Paranormal Investigation Club members...
...did nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Puuk!
Knives and forks plunged into Edward's body. One in his throat. He whipped around to us, eyes wide with panic, as if pleading, Why aren't you doing anything?!
But even if he'd shouted it, I wouldn't have answered.
Because this was my plan.
The cookie I'd urged on him earlier, claiming it'd perk him up? It wasn't ordinary.
The reason I'd summoned Elaine here.
I needed the power of her relic: the red cookie.
Its effect? It postpones death.
No matter how fatal the wound, as long as the cookie's power held, death was delayed.
Of course, it only postponed—no healing. Once the effect wore off, he'd die from the injuries.
But that was fine. The key was keeping him alive until the prophesied Wednesday ended. That alone would shatter the ghost story's "unavoidable prophecy."
Facing the relentless "accidents," I'd realized we couldn't keep enduring forever. The attacks grew more cunning and precise as time passed. Our stamina was draining, the assaults more threatening.
We lost with one failure. The ghost story won with one success.
The fight was never fair from the start.
So we didn't need to fight fair.
That's why I called Elaine.
The knives and forks embedded in Edward now? Undeniably fatal. Anything in limbs might be survivable, but a throat knife? Any normal human would be dead.
But he wasn't.
He was still alive.
That was what mattered.
Edward lay crumpled pathetically in place, bleeding out, eyes gleaming toward us in desperate hope. I averted my gaze.
Guilt crushed my chest.
Regression... regression will undo it all.
I repeated it to myself endlessly, steeling my resolve, and looked away.
Causing a scene here wouldn't do.
"Let's move. Back to the alleys."
I hoisted Edward—who was bleeding from knives and forks still lodged in him—onto my back.
"Teacher, let me carry him."
"...No. I'll do it. Let me."
"...Okay."
Rone, Aurora, and Elaine followed my orders with grim faces. We supported the fatally wounded—but undead—boy and slipped back into the dark, fetid alleys.
...
The assaults continued after that.
But pointless now. We'd fed him the red cookie.
His body became a mangled wreck under the barrage, yet he lived.
Midnight passed. Wednesday ended; Thursday dawned.
The sky plunged into deeper darkness, chill night air piercing our lungs.
Edward, smeared in blood and grime, was barely conscious. His body was no longer whole—beyond knife and fork wounds, countless injuries covered him. He lay in the alley, gasping raggedly, calling to me.
"T-Teacher..."
His voice came thin as a thread.
"...I can't... feel anything... below my waist."
I grasped his limp hand. Ice-cold.
All I could do was nod.
How could I comfort him?
Edward struggled to speak again. "But... earlier it hurt... so much... now... it doesn't... hurt anymore. Just... the night's so deep... feels a bit... cold..."
His voice faded to near inaudibility.
I gripped his hand tighter, sorrow etching my face.
"Spring winds are always chilly. But Wednesday's over now. Close your eyes a bit, and you'll be fine. We'll meet again after you rest."
"Ha, haha... yeah. Wednesday's... gone. Yes. See you... in the morning."
Edward gave a faint, blurry smile my way and shut his eyes.
"...Teacher. Thank you..."
The red cookie's power finally ebbed.
His body went fully slack. I closed the eyes of what remained—his upper body—and confirmed his heart had stopped. With a bitter expression, I gazed at the sky.
Truth was, surviving one Wednesday wouldn't resolve the ghost story.
That was another trap in this "Unavoidable Prophecy."
It only said he'd die on Wednesday—which Wednesday? Unspecified.
Survive this one, and next Wednesday—or the one after—would come. He couldn't escape.
To resolve it, two conditions:
One: Don't die on Wednesday.
Two: Die on any non-Wednesday.
But that wasn't easy. Even suicide attempts might "accidentally" fail—like the near-deaths so far. Someone might "accidentally" find and save him, or worst case, coma till Wednesday, heart stopping then.
That's why we needed Elaine's red cookie.
It ensured no death on Wednesday—and guaranteed death on Thursday.
And we succeeded.
The Unavoidable Prophecy has been resolved.
Paranormal Investigation Club members have resolved the ghost story, purified the grotesquery, and absorbed the resentment.
The resolution message, absent even after Wednesday passed, appeared soon after Edward closed his eyes.
My answer sheet was correct, after all.
...
Finally, the end credits rolled.
True to promise, the movie's ending was a sad one, not bad.
"...Teacher. Are you okay?"
Elaine asked in a trembling voice, tears glistening in her eyes.
The other students were the same. They all looked on the verge of tears, the situation weighing heavily on them.
I slowly rose.
Right. I couldn't mope here.
I'm their teacher.
At least in front of them, I had to act mature.
"Why the long faces?"
Come to think of it, sad endings suck too. Better to decide the story's end ourselves—with a happy one.
Their eyes widened.
I hauled my creaking body up with effort.
"Alright, back to the academy. Time to wrap this story with a happy ending."
Sorry, but this footage is scrapped.
My playlist only holds happy endings.
Regression time.