Jet didn't even realize her hands were shaking anymore. She had piled every single item she could find on the teacher's desk—files, photos, broken registers, dusty attendance sheets, scraps of paper that looked like they'd been torn during some kind of struggle.
Samy stood beside her, holding a cracked torch she'd found on the wall. Its dying light flickered across the mess on the table, throwing long shadows on the classroom walls.
"This place…" Samy whispered, voice trembling. "It doesn't feel like our school at all."
Jet didn't look up.
"It is our school," she murmured. "But something happened here… something everyone covered up."
Samy swallowed.
She didn't disagree.
Behind them, Tony and Tin explored the rest of the ruined classroom. Every footstep they took echoed too loudly in the empty space, like the room hated sound. Each desk they checked was either scratched deeply, or smeared with dust, or burned on the edges—like students had tried to claw or fight their way out.
Tony lifted a broken picture frame from the ground. The glass was shattered, but the picture inside was still visible.
Just a teacher. Smiling.
But the smile looked wrong. Too stiff, too wide, as if someone dragged it across his face.
Tin flipped through the files Jet had pushed aside earlier.
"Everything is… normal," he muttered. "Attendance, marks, assignments… just like every class keeps."
"Too normal," Tony said.
Tin nodded slowly.
"Like someone made it look normal."
He turned a page.
Then froze.
"Guys," he called out, his voice just a little louder than a whisper. "Come here."
Jet and Samy rushed over.
Tin placed a single wide photo on the desk gently, as if touching it too hard would bring the whole room crashing down.
It was a group photo.
Samy leaned closer.
"That's… Class 9-B?"
Tony nodded.
"All the missing students… they're right there."
They all crowded around the picture.
Everyone in the photo was smiling.
Every single student.
Perfect posture.
Uniforms ironed.
Hair neat.
But—
their eyes.
Their eyes were dead.
Wide, empty, staring right at the camera, like they knew the photo would be found someday.
Jet felt her stomach twist.
"That's not a smile," she whispered. "That's a warning."
Samy hugged herself tightly.
"What… what happened to them?"
Tony ran a finger over the print.
"These kids… they vanished. Every record says they went missing inside this building."
Tin turned the picture around.
Nothing was written on the back.
Just blank, cold paper.
Jet bit her lip.
"This photo doesn't belong here. It belongs to the principal's office. Why was it left in this classroom?"
Tony opened one of the files again.
Attendance sheets.
Assignments.
Marks.
All normal.
Too normal.
But as he flipped through the pages faster, little details started to appear.
A date written twice.
A signature that didn't match the rest.
Marks corrected in black ink—over blue.
A note scribbled: "keep them calm."
Tin caught it first.
"This isn't a record," he said softly. "This is a cover-up."
A heavy silence fell over them.
FAR AWAY — THE SHADOWS
In a place where no door led and no light survived, the white shadow and black shadow continued their fight.
Every clash of their forms cracked the air.
Every collision sent dark clouds scattering.
Every movement felt like a storm trying to be born.
The white shadow pushed forward, its edges burning like fire.
The black one laughed, voice distortive and sharp.
"You protect them," it hissed. "Why only them? So many others walked here before."
White didn't answer.
The black shadow swung hard—
a strike like thunder.
White blocked.
Black leaned closer, voice like poison.
"They will break. Like the others. Like you did."
Still no answer.
Their fight grew faster, louder, deeper.
Each blow shook the hidden space, sending invisible shockwaves across the school's twisted dimension.
KIM AND ROGER — 8TH GATE
Meanwhile, far from the classroom, Kim and Roger stood before the 8th door.
Its riddle glowed faint blue:
"Look into the song you never sang.
Look into the truth you never wanted.
Only then will the lie open."
Roger frowned.
"This… doesn't sound like our memory."
Kim nodded.
"I think this door doesn't show past.
It shows secrets."
They exchanged a long, quiet look.
Both terrified.
Both exhausted.
Both bleeding inside from the last memory that almost killed them.
But they had no choice.
They pushed the door open.
A cold wind rushed past them, pulling them inside before they even stepped. The hallway behind them disappeared instantly. The ground rippled like water.
Kim grabbed Roger's hand.
Roger squeezed back.
The memory hit them like a wave.
They stood in a music room.
But not theirs.
This one was brighter, newer… and filled with students singing. Their teacher stood in front, smiling like he was sculpted from wax.
A wrong smile.
Roger whispered, "Kim… I feel sick."
Kim felt it too.
Every sound was slightly off.
Every face looked too perfect.
Every note felt forced—
like someone was pushing the students to sing.
He leaned closer to Roger.
"This isn't our memory," he said. "And it isn't fake."
Roger swallowed hard.
"It's real."
The students in the memory kept singing.
Their voices too sweet.
Too steady.
Too identical.
No one breathed between notes.
No one blinked.
Kim felt a shiver run down his spine.
"Roger… I think this is 9-B."
Roger's eyes went wide.
And in that moment—
One student in the memory turned and stared directly at them.
Not at the teacher.
Not at the class.
At them.
With that same dead-eyed smile from the photo.
Kim stepped back instantly.
"Rog— we need to get out of this memory NOW."
But the door behind them had vanished.
BACK TO THE CLASSROOM
Jet held the group photo tighter.
Tony's face had gone pale.
Samy's breath shook.
Tin looked like his heart was falling apart.
"This photo…" Tin whispered, "they're smiling the same way the students in our memories smiled."
Tony looked up sharply.
"SAME. Exactly the same."
Jet's voice cracked.
"This class… died here. All of them."
Samy stared at the desk.
"Then why are their names in the attendance book marked as PRESENT?"
No one answered.
Silence swallowed them.
The room felt colder.
The air heavier.
And somewhere far away—
another clash echoed.
Another blow in the shadows' war.