Chapter 740: VILE - 303 [3]

"..."

I kept my hand on the handle.

The children hadn’t moved since I entered. They sat with their hands resting on their desks, their small figures barely visible beneath the weak light. It reached their collars and the tops of their hands, but I couldn’t make out much of their faces.

Just their eyes.

I looked towards the seats nearest the window.

They were occupied.

’...Right, it’s not like there was much of a choice.’

But above all else, there hadn’t been anyone sitting there when I had been outside the room.

Step! Step⎯!

My attention returned to the door.

The footsteps drew closer, and I pressed the handle upwards, trying to keep it from moving. For a moment, the sound seemed to come from directly outside.

Something brushed against the other side of the wood. My heart jumped a few beats as I kept myself measured.

’...It shouldn’t have seen me.’

I was confident of this. It was fast, but not as fast as me.

My grip over the handle tightened as I waited, basking in the momentary silence as I waited for the steps to continue.

They did.

Step! Step!

Slowly, they started to move away.

Each step matched the rhythm of my own heartbeat.

I waited until I could barely hear them before turning towards the room again.

The children were still staring.

Not one of them had looked towards the door.

"..."

I slowly moved to the side, trying my best to be as silent as possible as I gauged the reactions in the room.

None of their heads turned.

I took another step, keeping my shoulder close to the wall as I watched the nearest boy. His eyes remained fixed on the space I had just left.

’...They’re looking at the front.’

There was a desk beside the door, with a chalkboard stretching across the wall behind it. Books and loose sheets covered its surface.

I had been standing right in front of it.

Most of the board had been wiped clean. Two lines remained at one side, written beneath a small heading.

⎯⎯⎯

Classroom Rules.

Remain in your assigned seat.

Do not answer for another pupil.

⎯⎯⎯

Classroom rules?

My gaze shifted back to the children.

The silence remained.

I could hear my clothes whenever I moved, the faint hum of the lights, and the occasional click from the handle as I finally let go.

Nothing from near the desks.

’That’s good. It seems like they aren’t... trying to get to me.’

That was enough for now.

I knew that I couldn’t have remained in the corridor. After all, it was an infinite corridor.

’I guess I can hide here and try to waste as much time as possible before my nodes recover, and I can contact Kyle outside.’

That was probably my best bet for now.

I moved towards the desk, keeping my attention on the nearest row. There was no second door that I could see, and the only other place large enough to hide was a cupboard against the far wall.

’Maybe there?’

I looked at the desk by the front of the class. Most likely the teacher’s desk. Moving close to it, I noticed that it was filled with exercise books and even papers.

A particular piece lay beneath the stack of exercise books. The covers of the books were warped and smelled faintly of damp, and as I carefully shifted them aside, exposing the paper, numerous names appeared before my eyes.

’This is...?’

I traced down the names.

[Class 3-C]

1. Rachel Zims.

2. Edward More.

There were twenty-eight names in total.

My eyes went down the page, stopping towards one particular name.

27. Mara Balle.

’It’s crossed out.’

Why?

The pencil had gone over her name several times, though not hard enough to make it unreadable. The line continued into the attendance column.

Someone had put a tick over it.

I looked at the other entries.

The same small tick sat beside every name.

A sheet had been clipped beside hers.

[Conduct Record ⎯ Student 27]

Student refused to occupy her assigned seat again.

Claims another girl is sitting there.

Desk inspected and confirmed vacant.

"..."

I read the last two lines again. I was trying to get an understanding of the situation.

’This must be... a real letter written from the past.’

Right, what I was seeing was likely clues to the past of VILE - 303.

My eyes continued to gloss over the paper. I wanted to see if there was more that I could find. Any more clues that could⎯!!

Creaaak!

A faint creak reached me from the corridor. It was muffled, but it was close.

My hand instantly froze.

I listened until I heard a door close further away before looking up.

’It’s coming.’

I hastily moved, following the small numbers that had been carved into the edges of the desks. I followed them along the rows, taking a little longer whenever one disappeared beneath a child’s hands.

Twenty-five.

Twenty-six.

Twenty—

My gaze stopped.

Near the back, between two occupied desks, was an empty chair.

27.

It hadn’t been pushed beneath the desk.

A book lay on the wood in front of it, with a pencil placed neatly along its edge. There was even a small bag hanging from the side.

Everything was there.

Except the child.

I thought back at the paper from before. A name popped into my head.

’...Mara.’

The children beside her seat continued to face the front.

Their books had been pushed to the far sides of their desks.

Away from hers.

The piece of information didn’t escape my grasp as my eyes glossed over the desk one more time. That was also the moment I caught sight of a small piece of paper.

"..."

Torn from an exercise book.

There were pencil marks on the outside, most of them hidden beneath the fold. I carefully opened it, listening to the faint crackle of the paper.

Mrs. Vale,

She gets up when you come over.

Then you tell me my chair is empty.

It’s not empty.

I didn’t move, my eyes staring at the note on the desk.

’What does this mean?’

My thumb rested beneath the last sentence.

There was nothing else written, but the more I looked at it, the more unsettled I felt.

’It seems like there’s more to this case than I expected.

I shifted my attention towards the empty seat.

I could see the backrest through the space above the desk. There was nothing beneath it besides its legs and the faint shadow they cast across the floor.

My eyes shifted to the conduct record one more time.

Desk inspected and confirmed vacant.

"..."

I looked back at the chair.

I’d only glanced away, but I found myself checking the space beneath it again.

’...What exactly were you seeing? What do you mean by it’s not empty?’

I started to turn the paper over, but right as I did⎯

Step.

My fingers tightened.

The sound came from the corridor.

I listened.

Step.

It was coming closer.

Lifting my head, I looked around me. The children hadn’t reacted.

Their hands were still resting on the desks, their eyes fixed towards the front. From where I stood, it almost looked as though they were staring at me again.

I folded the papers and slipped them into my pocket.

Step.

’...It’s coming back.’

I moved away from the desk.

The windows were on the far side of the room. I reached them quickly, passing between the children without touching their chairs.

None of their gazes followed me as I moved.

I caught the nearest latch and pulled.

It moved a little before stopping.

I tried again.

The frame didn’t move.

There were several layers of paint over the seam, thick enough that I couldn’t see where the window was supposed to open.

Beyond the glass was darkness.

"Fuck..."

Step.

I let go.

The footsteps had stopped outside.

My eyes went from the cupboard to the door, then back to the narrow spaces between the desks.

There was nowhere.

Not unless I wanted to get beneath one of the children’s chairs.

Click.

The handle moved, my breath paused.

A soft rustle came from the room, and I turned immediately. That was also the moment where my heart froze.

For every... child was looking at me.

Not towards the front anymore.

Their heads had turned over their shoulders, their bodies remaining perfectly straight in their seats.

"..."

I stayed still.

Then the boy nearest me lowered his eyes.

Towards the empty chair, and my gaze subconsciously followed his.

Seat twenty-seven.

’...You want me to sit there?’

He didn’t move.

Neither did the others.

The handle slowly returned to its original position.

For a moment, I thought whatever was outside had decided to leave.

Then it moved again.

Click.

The door shifted.

I looked towards the front, where I had been standing only moments earlier.

The rules were still visible on the board.

Remain in your assigned seat.

I looked at the children.

They were all sitting.

Waiting.

Whatever was coming into the room, they seemed to know what to do.

I didn’t.

But standing beside the window wasn’t going to help me. My hand brushed against the papers in my pocket.

Desk inspected and confirmed vacant.

"...Shit."

There was not much time to think.

I moved towards the chair.

The children watched me pass, their eyes following me now. Up close, I could see the little creases around their collars and the marks their fingers had left against the edges of their books.

I stopped beside the empty desk.

The number was right beneath my hand.

Twenty-seven.

Creak—

I gripped the back of the chair and pulled.

"—!"

It didn’t budge.

My jaw tightened, and I hastily looked down. There was nothing caught beneath its legs.

I pulled again.

This time, it slid back with a short scrape.

All eyes remained fixed on me as the door moved, light spilling. Without wasting a single second, I sat down on the seat immediately.

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

And as if in synchrony, every child turned towards the front.

But that wasn’t the part that unsettled me.

No...

’The seat is warm.’

As if someone had just been sitting there.

"..."

My hands stopped above the desk.

For a moment, I could only feel the warmth beneath me and the wood pressing uncomfortably against my knees.

Step.

The step sounded again. Much closer than it had ever been.

I lowered my gaze to the book rather than the open doorway.

Step.

Something brushed against the front desk.

I adjusted my hands to match the boy beside me, laying them flat against the wood. His fingers were pressed tightly together, and as the footsteps stopped, he lowered his head a little further.

I did the same.

Click.

The door closed.

For a few seconds, I could only hear the lights.

Then something tapped against the desk at the front.

Tap. Tap.

"Mara."

A soft, yet gravelly voice whispered into the air.

My fingers tightened, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest. Lifting my head slowly, I stared at the name written on the cover in front of me.

"...You’re back."

"..."

I kept my eyes on the book.

The tapping came again.

"Open your books."

Paper rustled around me.

I opened mine.

"Class begins."