Was this just meant to scare him? Like how the other students had been frightened?
As the severed head opened its mouth, Takakai calmly considered possible scenarios without moving a muscle. He continued reading his textbook, pretending nothing unusual was happening.
But soon he realized the situation differed from his expectations.
Malice—thick and palpable—radiated from the female student's severed head.
Her bloodied eyes burned with hatred.
Takakai suddenly remembered—this was the same girl who had first insulted him, accusing him of being a kidnapper.
Does her lingering hostility in life make the specter she became react differently to me?
Whoosh—
A sharp whistling sound cut through the air.
Takakai jerked his head aside, but not fast enough—a thin line of blood appeared on his cheek.
The blood spat from the head's mouth was as sharp as a blade, embedding itself into the wall behind him with enough force to pierce through.
Before the first attack even landed, the head's mouth gaped open again, preparing for a second strike.
BAM!
Takakai's fist connected before it could, sending the head flying into the ceiling before it crashed back to the floor. The once-recognizable face now resembled a deflated ball—bones shattered, flesh pulped beyond recognition.
The sheep-headed specter's body swayed slightly, its lifeless mask turning toward Takakai.
Only for Takakai to grab it by the head and slam it face-first into a nearby desk, embedding the mask deep into the wood before hurling both specter and desk through the classroom window and into the hallway beyond.
A faint crimson glow flickered in the depths of Takakai's pupils.
Throughout it all, he never stopped reading—one hand holding his textbook, the other beating the so-called [Sheep Mama] into submission—all while standing in the classroom aisle, calmly reciting text.
Beside him, Miko stared in stunned silence, even pausing her own reading for a full second until Takakai pointed at her textbook, prompting her to hastily resume.
Only after confirming no further attacks came did Takakai finally relax slightly.
No punishment. So I guessed right?
He had maintained his "morning reading" posture throughout the violence.
He had never left the classroom or entered the forbidden hallway.
Therefore, within the rules of [Alice's Game], his beating of a [Teacher] and throwing it outside was perfectly legitimate—not a punishable offense.
That said... the aftermath was far from pleasant.
As Takakai took a single step forward, spiderweb cracks spread across the floor beneath his feet.
An immense, invisible force pressed down on him from all directions, attempting to force him back into his seat.
No source. No visible origin. Just overwhelming pressure demanding he conform—to return to being [like everyone else].
Like everyone else...
For a fleeting moment, Takakai heard—no, felt—something.
Of course.
This is how it should be, isn't it?
Everyone does this.
Act normal. Blend in. Be likable.
Don't stand out. Only bad kids break the mold. Be good.
Under the spotlight, under everyone's gaze—never deviate.
CRACK!
Takakai's foot sank slightly into the floor.
The pressure now exceeded two tons—maybe more—pressing against every inch of his body, demanding obedience.
So this is why.
The rules never explicitly stated [must sit while reading], yet everyone—living or dead—had instinctively sought their seats without question. Even he hadn't noticed anything amiss until now.
The hidden rule of [Daytime Classroom]: All present must behave in socially expected, "normal" ways. By standing during reading time and assaulting a teacher, Takakai had violated this unspoken law.
For ordinary students, resistance was impossible. First, their minds couldn't overcome the rule's mental influence. Second, while breaking it wasn't instantly lethal, sustaining defiance required superhuman strength.
CRUNCH—CRACK—
Each step left shallow imprints in the tile as Takakai retrieved his candle.
He approached a dead student—her body twisted at unnatural angles—and pressed his candle against hers.
The girl's flame snuffed out instantly.
The two candles fused seamlessly, as if always one.
The corpse showed no reaction, sitting motionless as Takakai—still fighting the invisible pressure—moved to other dead students, merging their candles with his until his own grew too unwieldy. He repeated the process for Miko's candle, ensuring neither would burn out too quickly.
Some living students watched with fearful, pleading eyes—terrified he might take their candles, yet hoping he'd share the extra lifelines.
Takakai ignored them.
Instead, he stepped through the broken wall into the adjacent classroom, snuffed a specter's candle, and pocketed it.
Risky? Absolutely. But after smashing through the wall earlier and activating this room's horrors, he had no choice. These candles would burn out soon anyway, releasing the specters when night returned. Better to steal them first.
More importantly...
As I thought.
The extinguished candles could be stored in his watch's inventory.
They shared traits with other cursed items—Black Blood Bullets, Purple Talismans, Cremation Ashes. These red candles were likely mass-produced supernatural tools.
If Black Blood Bullets stemmed from American experiments, what was the origin of these candles that reinforced [Living] status and suppressed corpse transformation? Another pre-Cognition Blindspot human endeavor?
No answers yet.
Takakai worked quickly, extinguishing and collecting all 25 specters' candles. Before leaving, he barricaded the hole he'd made with the teacher's podium and an AC unit.
Total time elapsed: Two minutes.
Returning to his seat (while still reading aloud), Takakai deactivated his blessing. As the red faded from his eyes, dizziness and exhaustion crashed over him. His breathing grew labored.
This blessing's strain is no joke. Can't use it again for hours.
Through the shattered window, he saw the sheep-headed specter standing motionless in the hallway, watching him.
Not coming back in?
After a long pause, it turned and walked away.
Simultaneously, the intercom chimed.
Ding-dong—
Lights cut out, plunging the room into candlelit darkness.
From beyond the barricade came scraping chairs, then approaching footsteps.
The candleless corpses twitched. Those with intact heads glared—dead eyes burning with hatred at the living.
"Don't just stand there. Move. Quietly."
Takakai grabbed Miko's arm, hauling her toward the broken window.
The hallway outside was now empty.
He vaulted through first, landing neatly clear of glass shards before lifting Miko down. As an afterthought, he kicked stray glass against the wall—a small mercy for any students fleeing after them.
Then they were off, moving swiftly down the endless, lightless corridor.
Classrooms lined both sides—at least six visible from their position, including the one they'd escaped. All windows were curtained, interiors unknowable.
Takakai noted their origin classroom's number—Class 2-15—before pressing forward, minimizing noise.
Second year, Class 15? Any hidden meaning?
No way to tell yet. First priority: Find the floor map.
Forum intel suggested spatial distortions made consistent mapping impossible—except for maps found within the building. Those would always be accurate, no matter how illogical.
And according to players, these maps were placed conspicuously...
There!
At the corridor's end stood an open area with a glass-encased bulletin board at its center. Inside: A floor plan.
And standing before it—
A mannequin.
Perfectly proportioned.
Unnervingly plastic.
Motionless.
[To Be Continued...]