Chapter 752: Mystery of Class 3-C [1]

"Rather than using a torch, can’t you just flash a light for me?"

"...Alright."

With a flick of her finger, a small light appeared beside Kyle, illuminating the brick wall before him.

He worked the end of the metal bar beneath another brick, easing it forward until the mortar cracked. The wall was thinner than expected. Whoever had built it had simply filled an existing doorway, which made removing it considerably easier.

Whether that was a good thing remained to be seen.

"Can you see anything?"

Kyle leaned towards the opening without putting his head through.

"A corridor. It turns further in."

By the time the opening was wide enough, dust covered his sleeves and the floor around his shoes. He waited for the air to settle before squeezing through, listening carefully for anything on the other side.

Nothing.

He couldn’t hear anything.

"I’ll go first."

Zoey nodded and followed shortly afterward.

The smell changed immediately.

Damp concrete still lingered in the air, but beneath it was something dry and bitter that caught at the back of Kyle’s throat. Zoey’s light hovered over the blistered paint and the remains of a wooden shelf, its burned supports still attached to the wall.

"They didn’t bother painting this side."

Kyle looked back.

The blackening continued around the original frame, ending against the much cleaner bricks they’d just removed.

Zoey raised the light and the two followed the damage along the wall. There were several cleaner spots among the dark patches on the walls, all around shoulder height. Their shapes stood out enough to make him look closer.

"...Kyle."

"I know."

He had already noticed.

Four dark streaks ran across the plaster at shoulder height, followed by a shorter mark beneath them. Farther down, another set appeared lower against the wall, the base of a palm dragging into a long smear.

’A handprint...’

Zoey moved the light between them.

"Do you think she came through here?"

"We don’t know if they’re hers."

"No, but look where they lead."

The marks gradually rose as they approached the exit, almost as though whoever had left them had been dragging themselves upright.

Kyle pictured someone moving towards the stairs like that.

Then he remembered where Mrs. Vale’s body had been found.

"...Right."

Neither of them said anything else.

Pieces of plaster littered the floor, and a loose pipe stretched across their path. Kyle stepped over it, then waited for Zoey to do the same before moving on, the faint scrape of her sleeve against the wall following behind him.

While Zoey photographed the wall, Kyle checked the old floor plan on his phone.

"The passage turns right. There should be a storage room before the old exit."

"We check that first. If anything changes, we leave."

"Agreed."

Neither suggested splitting up.

The corridor narrowed after the turn, forcing them to move one behind the other. Plaster littered the floor while old pipes stretched above, rusted badly enough that Kyle avoided touching anything unnecessarily.

The storage room was only a few meters ahead.

Its door was gone.

Most of the shelves inside had collapsed, but Kyle barely paid attention to them.

Near the back stood a single chair.

Facing the wall.

"...There."

Zoey moved beside him.

"It’s the same type as the ones upstairs."

She checked one of the photographs on her phone while Kyle kept his attention on the chair.

It had been placed so close to the wall that anyone sitting in it would’ve had almost no room for their knees.

"Let’s look underneath."

Kyle approached from the side and gripped the backrest.

The wood felt rough beneath his fingers.

He pulled.

Nothing happened.

"...?"

He tried again with considerably more force.

The chair shifted slightly before settling back into place.

Zoey lowered her phone.

"What’s wrong?"

"It’s heavy."

"It’s a chair."

"I know."

Kyle checked the legs.

None were caught beneath anything, and there was no visible reason for the chair to resist him.

He pulled again.

The same thing happened. This time, however, something about the resistance bothered him.

It didn’t feel stuck.

It felt really heavy.

Almost like someone was sitting there.

"...That’s weird."

Kyle released the chair and crouched instead.

Zoey lowered the light with him.

A small number had been carved into the underside beside one of the supports.

27.

"The missing chair?"

"Looks like it."

They’d spent two days staring at the empty space behind Mara’s desk upstairs, and all this time the chair might’ve been sitting down here.

Facing a wall.

Something else was scratched into the wood.

Zoey angled the light beneath the seat.

"It’s the same as the desk."

The words had been carved awkwardly across the underside.

Don’t let her answer.

Neither of them spoke.

Kyle remembered the damaged message upstairs.

Someone had scratched away the ending, leaving them wondering who the word her referred to.

Finding the rest hadn’t helped much.

"Answer what?"

"I don’t know."

Zoey photographed the writing before lowering the phone.

"We don’t even know who wrote it."

Kyle stared at the letters.

Someone had taken the time to carve them beneath the chair, somewhere nobody would’ve seen unless they purposely looked.

He glanced towards the wall.

"Why bring it down here?"

Zoey started to reply, but Kyle crouched lower and pressed one hand against the underside of the seat.

"Wait."

"What?"

"I want to try something."

He pushed upward. For the briefest moment, the chair lifted.

Then something pressed back.

Kyle’s arm tensed as the legs lowered against the floor.

"...What the hell?"

Zoey’s expression changed.

Kyle pushed again. The resistance returned almost immediately.

It wasn’t simply heavy. There was something else... at play.

For a second, Kyle had the distinctly uncomfortable impression that something was actively keeping the chair down.

Almost as though someone really was sitting on it.

He slowly withdrew his hand when all of a sudden sound came from the corridor.

Scrrr—!

"——!"

"!"

Both of them turned.

The noise dragged on for a moment before stopping somewhere beyond the doorway.

Zoey moved the light towards the entrance.

But there was nothing.

"Was that something falling?"

Kyle didn’t answer.

For some reason, his gaze had returned to Chair 27.

***

"Present."

The answer came from beside my ear, and I resisted the urge to move away while the teacher marked something on the register.

After several nights of this, I’d hoped I would’ve gotten used to it.

Apparently not.

’You could at least stop doing it right next to me.’

I returned to the exercise.

My headache had gotten worse since entering the classroom, and the numbers had started blurring whenever I stared at them too long. Taking a break would’ve been nice, but convincing the thing at the front that I needed one was probably more dangerous than simply continuing.

The last child answered.

I glanced towards Elon.

His head had turned slightly when Mara’s name was called, but he wasn’t looking at me.

His eyes were on the number carved into the edge of my desk.

Twenty-seven.

I’d noticed him doing it before without thinking much about it. This time, however, I watched as he pulled his book slightly farther away and resumed writing.

’Are you checking who’s here, or where they’re sitting?’

There was a difference.

Before I could think about it further, the teacher spoke.

"Show your working."

The footsteps started moving between the rows.

I quickly checked what I’d written and corrected one of the answers before the shadow reached my desk.

Something brushed the back of my chair.

Then—

"—!"

The seat shifted beneath me.

At first, I thought it was me, but the entire chair rose slightly from the floor instead, pushing my knees against the underside of the desk.

’What now?’

I immediately pressed my weight down, hooking one foot around the chair leg while keeping my upper body as still as possible.

The teacher was standing almost directly beside me.

The last thing I needed was another scene.

The chair pushed upward again.

Not by much, but enough for the legs to leave the floor.

’Seriously?’

I pressed harder.

For several seconds, the force beneath me remained, lifting while I tried to keep the chair down.

It felt different from the usual small fingers and footsteps.

This time... the force felt greater. Almost like the entire chair itself was being pushed from underneath.

Then, just as suddenly, the pressure disappeared.

The legs settled quietly against the floor.

"..."

I continued writing.

Through the gap beneath my arm, Elon’s shoes remained beneath his own desk.

He was still there.

’This little shit...’

Whatever invisible girl had been bothering me apparently still hadn’t gotten tired of it.

The teacher lingered for another moment before finally moving away, and only then did I loosen my grip on the pencil.

Somewhere behind my chair, I felt subtle movement coming from behind me. For a moment, the thought crossed my mind that what had just happened didn’t come from the little girl, but that didn’t make much sense.

Whatever was here had already moved furniture before.

I wasn’t going to start inventing new problems on top of the ones I already had.

My attention drifted towards the register as the teacher returned to the front.

Another night.

Another mark beside Mara’s name.

I still didn’t know who had answered for her, nor why Elon kept looking towards Seat 27.

But whatever was doing this to me certainly knew something.

...And I was planning on finding out.