Ye Chen did not die immediately.
That surprised him.
He expected pain, or darkness, or the sudden end of thought. Instead, he remained standing in the music room, his body stiff, his breath shallow, his heart beating far too loud in his ears.
The thing behind him did not touch him.
It did not need to.
The room felt smaller now. The walls leaned inward just enough to be noticed. The warm light above flickered once, then steadied. The piano keys began to press down by themselves, slowly, one at a time.
A sound formed. Not a melody. Just notes. Isolated. Wrong.
Ye Chen tried to turn around.
His body obeyed halfway, then stopped.
Fear came late.
It arrived quietly, like a realization rather than a reaction. His hands were shaking, but his mind felt clear in a terrible way, as if something had scraped away panic and left only awareness.
The reflection on the piano shifted.
The shape behind him bent slightly, as if leaning forward to observe him more closely. Its outline blurred, then sharpened. Ye Chen noticed that it did not cast a shadow.
The air pressed against his chest.
Memories surfaced that were not his.
A man running through the hallway, breath ragged, checking his phone again and again. The time stuck at twelve zero one. A woman crying quietly in a classroom, pressing her hand over her mouth so the sound would not escape. A boy laughing nervously, filming everything, saying it was just a prank.
Each memory ended the same way.
Silence.
Ye Chen realized the school was not showing him these memories to scare him.
It was explaining.
Rules were being given. Too late to use, but still precise.
Midnight was not a trigger.
It was permission.
Before midnight, the school only watched. After midnight, it acted. Anyone still inside was no longer a visitor. They became part of the place.
Ye Chen felt something move inside his head.
Not pain. Pressure.
Thoughts slowed. Stretched. He tried to think of his sister. Her face felt distant now, like a photograph left in the rain. The details were fading.
That terrified him more than the thing behind him.
"You watched her too," Ye Chen said. His voice sounded small, swallowed by the room.
The piano stopped.
For the first time, the presence reacted.
The reflection tilted, as if considering him.
Images flooded his mind again. A different place. A different building. A stairwell. His sister standing alone, her phone in her hand, the light flickering above her.
She had broken a rule too.
Not this place. Another one.
The realization crushed him.
This was not unique.
This was a system.
The school was only one node. One mouth in a city full of quiet hunger. Places learned over time. Learned what fear looked like. Learned when people stayed too long.
Ye Chen felt something wrap around his thoughts gently, like fingers testing fruit for ripeness.
He tried to scream.
No sound came out.
The room changed.
The walls stretched farther away. The light dimmed. The piano dissolved into shadow. The stacked chairs vanished. Ye Chen stood alone in a wide empty space that felt like the inside of a memory rather than a room.
Voices whispered at the edges.
Not words. Feelings.
Regret. Confusion. Acceptance.
Ye Chen understood then what happened to the dead.
They were not killed quickly.
They were kept.
Kept long enough for the place to learn them. Their fears. Their habits. The way they hoped someone would come.
The thing finally moved.
It stepped forward.
Up close, it was worse.
There was no face, but there was an impression of one, like a blank mask where features should be. Its surface shifted slowly, never settling. Looking at it made Ye Chen's eyes ache.
A thought entered his mind.
Not spoken. Placed.
You noticed us.
Ye Chen felt cold spread through his chest.
"Yes," he thought back, though he was not sure how. "That was my mistake."
The presence paused.
Another thought followed.
Not mistake. Invitation.
The space around them filled with faint outlines of rooms, hallways, stairwells. Other places. Other schools. Bridges. Tunnels. Empty apartments. Each outline pulsed slowly, like breathing.
A network.
The city was full of them.
People walked through every day without knowing. Most left before midnight. Some did not.
Those who noticed patterns were rare.
Those who came looking were rarer.
Ye Chen felt something open inside him.
Not physically.
A door in his mind.
He understood now why he had been allowed this far. Why he was still conscious.
He was being measured.
The presence withdrew slightly.
A final thought pressed into him.
Choose.
The outlines around him sharpened. Each place felt different. Some heavy with despair. Some sharp with fear. Some quiet and patient.
Ye Chen realized the truth.
The school did not just select victims.
It selected replacements.
The pressure in his head grew unbearable. His vision blurred. The last thing Ye Chen thought about was not escape.
It was his sister.
If he had noticed sooner, could he have warned her?
Darkness folded inward.
When sensation returned, Ye Chen was standing in a hallway.
A different hallway.
The walls were familiar.
Too familiar.
A flickering light buzzed above him.
On the wall beside the stairs, someone had scratched words into the paint.
LEAVE BEFORE TWELVE
Ye Chen stared at his own handwriting.
And understood what he had become.