Farewell to the Ghost Story Apartment
The thing that came to mind from the Ghost Story Apartment was the number I'd figured out in room 105: 7 10 9 3.
At first, I'd thought it was some door lock password, but suddenly a question arose. It was strange for a door lock password to include the number '10'. Normal door locks used single-digit combinations. Back then, I'd brushed it off thinking maybe there was some unusual door lock that could input two-digit numbers, but that wasn't it. No matter how much the survivors wandered around, it made sense that they couldn't find the right door lock password. It hadn't been a number meant for a door lock from the start.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The pounding on the elevator doors grew more violent. The mannequins' shouts and eerie laughter echoed right outside. There was no time.
I frantically pulled the diary from my pocket and checked the number. My hands trembled, but I desperately input the numbers I'd burned into my eyes onto the elevator floor buttons. And the moment I pressed the final button—click!—the elevator began to move.
The elevator shot upward at tremendous speed.
"Gaaahhh!!"
"Everyone, grab the handrails!"
The numbers on the display panel rose in an instant: 8, 17, 53, 98, 231. The floors increased like mad. The numbers on the display far exceeded the apartment's actual floors.
Vrrrroooom—!! A deafening mechanical friction sound tore at our eardrums, enveloping the elevator. We felt crushed by gravity-like pressure.
By the time the display numbers surpassed four digits and devolved into meaningless characters and symbols like #5@5, screeech—thud! The elevator finally stopped, and the doors slid open smoothly.
And beyond them lay...
.
.
.
"Oh my! Mr. Allen! What happened to you!? Ahh! You students too...!"
Lydia spotted us emerging from the elevator.
The destination at the end of that password was none other than Everlight Academy.
In truth, that password wasn't connected to solving the ghost story—it was the number to escape the apartment.
I had no idea why escaping led back to Everlight Academy, but there were plenty of things I didn't know about the Ghost Story Apartment from the start. No need to overthink it.
I dragged my battered body out of the elevator and, unable to hide my exhaustion, made an excuse to the flustered Lydia.
"It's nothing, Ms. Lydia. We were just investigating a ghost story for club activities and had a little accident. No need to worry."
Even I thought it was a lame excuse, but Lydia didn't doubt me.
"I-Is that true? But looking at you, that doesn't seem like a little accident at all!?"
She made even more of a fuss than I did, insisting it was a big deal. Then, as if noticing something off, she narrowed her eyes and muttered.
"Huh? But Mr. Allen and the students... where exactly...?"
I could feel her gaze shifting to the elevator we'd just exited. This was bad—she was noticing the elevator's existence.
Before she could fully register it, I hurriedly changed the subject.
"More importantly, Ms. Lydia, sorry, but could you grab some towels? We're soaking wet. It's awkward going back to the staff room like this... I'm fine, but I'm worried about the students' health."
"Ah! Right!? I'll get them right away! Wait just a moment!"
She startled and rushed off to fetch towels.
With Lydia gone, we ignored the strange looks from passing students and collapsed right there on the spot. In Everlight Academy, where nobles and elites made up a significant portion, such behavior was seen as quite rude, but we had no energy to care.
"To think that number wasn't the password to solve the ghost story, but to escape..."
Rone muttered in disappointment.
"What do we do now?"
Rozalia asked in a weary voice.
"Should we regress, reset what's beyond the elevator, and try again?"
Elaine was pulling herself together, preparing for the next loop, but even she looked utterly drained at a glance. Everyone seemed physically and mentally exhausted.
But their worries were unfounded.
"Don't worry. We're not challenging the Ghost Story Apartment for a while."
They looked shocked and asked back.
"What? Why?!"
"The scale of the Ghost Story Apartment is beyond what I—no, what we imagined. It far exceeds the difficulty we anticipated. I initially thought we could conquer it easily because I figured it was just a ghost story manifesting my longing for my past life."
But it wasn't some product of my imagination. An elevator connected to another world...? And its core was a ghost story that generated ghost stories. This was fundamentally different from everything we'd faced before.
Whether the world ended because of such a ghost story, or the ghost story arose because the world had ended—I couldn't say. Either way, a ghost story from a destroyed world was incomparable to those from an intact one. Conquering a room or two might be feasible, but full resolution? Impossible.
"Our exploration revealed it's not that simple. At our current level, it's utterly unsolvable. It's not a lack of info or experience. But that doesn't mean we're giving up entirely. I'm just saying we postpone until we've grown enough to take down the apartment ghost story."
Having heard me out, they felt uneasy about shelving it but also showed subtle relief. I nodded inwardly. My judgment to minimize regressions and prioritize growth was spot on. No amount of loops could conquer a monster like this.
Still, it was a relief. Our first encounter with such a behemoth was from another world, not Hifnia. If something like that appeared in Everlight Academy, we couldn't even afford to leave it alone.
At the same time, I realized what would happen if we failed to stop the outer god's resurrection. I recalled the scene from room 906: the apartment itself torn from space, drifting in the void. Even the surviving humans trembling amid ghost stories empowered on another level. That was the endgame for a world that couldn't stop the ghost stories.
Then Elaine asked cautiously.
"But Teacher, if we're shelving this ghost story, how will you hide this elevator? No one's noticed yet, but eventually someone will."
As I prepared to answer Elaine's question, Lydia arrived right on cue, towels in hand for everyone.
"Ah, Mr. Allen! Here are the towels! Dry off before you catch a cold! You too, hurry!"
"Ah, thank you. It was embarrassing to go to the staff room like this— you've really helped us out, Ms. Lydia. Thanks so much."
"Th-This is nothing... really."
I smiled kindly and warmly as I took the towels from her, distributing them to the students. Then, glancing at Elaine, I whispered softly just for her ears.
"I've got a plan for that."
.
.
.
A few days later, next to the Everlight Academy staff room where the elevator had been, stood an enormously large mirror. It was massive and grand enough to fully conceal the elevator.
Mirrors were inherently extravagant luxuries. Even a small hand mirror rivaled jeweled accessories in value. In Hifnia—and even in my past life as Allen Jest—mass production of mirrors only began around the 19th century. A full-body mirror large enough to reflect a whole person was an unimaginable extravagance.
Such a gigantic mirror had suddenly appeared in the quiet hallway beside the staff room. It was so rare even nobles rarely saw one, startling countless students as they passed by.
Curious students soon gathered around the out-of-place mirror in the middle of the hall, whispering.
"What's with that mirror? Who put it here?"
"Was there something like that in the academy? First time I've seen it."
"Of course! If a huge mirror like that was by the staff room, we'd have noticed by now!"
"Even the royal palace doesn't have one that big!"
Who could have placed such a massive mirror here? As the students' curiosity grew, someone spotted the donor's name engraved at the base.
[Donated by Allen Jest]
"Allen... Allen Jest!? That teacher who's the first head of the Allen Merchant Company!?"
"Whoa! I heard the Allen Merchant Company was loaded, but this is insane!"
"Donating a mirror this huge to the academy just like that!"
At that moment, Allen Jest himself passed by the gawking students, glancing at the mirror with feigned wonder, and murmured softly.
"In this world, money can buy anything."
Except solving ghost stories.
And so, the elevator to another world was buried in the shadow of the full-body mirror.
But the elevator still waits.
For the Paranormal Investigation Club to return.
In the darkness...