Chen Ge crouched in the shadowed corner of the second-floor toilet at Mu Yang High School, the black phone's Fifth Cubicle in the Toilet mission description replaying in his mind, its first-person narrative chilling: someone had hidden in the fifth cubicle to capture a red shadow that appeared at midnight, only for the outcome to remain shrouded in mystery.
The ambiguity left Chen Ge's imagination racing, conjuring images of spectral figures tied to Fan Yu's haunting black-and-red drawings or the woman's tale of the sealed classroom's faceless students. The mission's vagueness amplified the stakes, suggesting that the red shadow was no mere ghost but a force capable of unpredictable horror. The two sets of footsteps he'd heard in the corridor—one heavy, one lighter—complicated the scenario, hinting at multiple entities where the mission described only one.
Could the red shadow have found a companion in this abandoned school? he wondered, the black phone's weight in his pocket a constant reminder of the 11 p.m. deadline, now less than two hours away.
Switching off his flashlight to avoid detection, Chen Ge pressed himself against the toilet's damp wall, the darkness swallowing the room as he grappled with the mission's implications.
The black phone had specified a red shadow appearing at midnight, yet the two sets of footsteps suggested a pair of entities, their purpose unclear in the storm's chaos. What if the red shadow's not alone anymore? The thought sent a chill through him, the possibility that years of abandonment had altered the school's supernatural dynamics unsettling. Hiding in the fifth cubicle, as the mission suggested, felt like a trap—locking himself in a confined space with unknown entities approaching was too risky. I need to be proactive, he decided, his grip tightening on the mallet as he moved to hide behind the toilet door, ready to strike first if needed. Zhang Ya's mark flared in his eyes, her sadistic allure pushing him to take control, the memory of the Pen Spirit's chaotic end—its shattered pen and cryptic "Zhang Ya" answer—reminding him that passivity could be fatal in this school, where every moment brought him closer to the witching hour's horrors.
The footsteps grew louder, their rhythm unmistakable—two individuals running side by side, their approach to the second-floor toilet relentless, each step amplifying Chen Ge's tension.
The wait was agonizing, the uncertainty of who—or what—was outside gnawing at him, his mind racing with possibilities: ghostly students, the red shadow, or something entirely new tied to the Deep Well or Sealed Classroom missions. He held his breath, the mallet raised above his head, sweat slicking his palm as he fought to remain silent in the darkness. T
he storm outside raged, rain seeping through the boarded-up window, wetting the cracked tiles and adding a slippery hazard to the already oppressive atmosphere.
The black phone's weight pressed against him, a reminder that the Fifth Cubicle mission required precision, and any misstep could plunge him into a confrontation he wasn't prepared for, with survival until dawn hanging in the balance.
The footsteps halted abruptly at the toilet's entrance, the sudden silence deafening, broken only by the storm's relentless howl outside. They're here, Chen Ge thought, his heart pounding so fiercely he feared it might betray his position, his sweat-slicked hand gripping the mallet tighter. He braced for an attack, expecting faces—human or spectral—to peer into the darkened room, but none appeared, the entrance remaining empty. His patience frayed, and he reached for the doorknob, ready to lean out for a glimpse, when a flash of lightning tore across the sky, its brief brilliance illuminating two short shadows on the wet toilet floor, unmistakably childlike.
The sight froze him, the black phone's mission description clashing with this new reality—children, not a singular red shadow. Zhang Ya's sadistic whispers urged him to act, her presence a warning that these shadows could be tied to the school's haunted legacy, perhaps the ghostly students from the woman's photo. The darkness returned, swallowing the shadows, leaving Chen Ge blind without his flashlight, his nerves taut as he waited for any sign of movement, the silence now more terrifying than the footsteps themselves.
To his surprise, the footsteps resumed, but instead of entering the toilet, they moved past, descending the staircase to the first floor with purposeful speed. They're leaving?
Chen Ge eased out from behind the door, his flashlight still off, peering cautiously toward the empty entrance, the absence of any figure both relieving and unsettling. Those were children, not the red shadow, he thought, the discrepancy puzzling him. Has time changed the mission, or did my early arrival disrupt something? The black phone's silence offered no answers, its Fifth Cubicle mission still incomplete, urging him to inspect the cubicle itself. Switching his flashlight back on, he approached the fifth cubicle, its door creaking open to reveal a mundane, aged space—nothing out of the ordinary. The third floor must be the mission venue, he concluded, the children's departure offering a brief window of safety.
Chen Ge stood in the darkened second-floor toilet of Mu Yang High School, the sudden ring of his phone shattering the eerie silence, the unknown caller's number flashing on the screen, a jarring intrusion amidst the tension of the Fifth Cubicle in the Toilet mission.
Whose number is this? he wondered, his circle of friends small and unlikely to call at such an hour, especially in the desolate, rain-soaked isolation of the abandoned school. The black phone's weight in his pocket felt heavier, its directive to survive until dawn and complete the remaining missions—Fifth Cubicle, Deep Well, and Sealed Classroom—amplifying his unease. Hesitating briefly, he retreated to a shadowed corner, the boarded-up window casting the room into near-total darkness, and exited his livestream to answer the call, wary of drawing attention from whatever lingered in the corridor after the childlike shadows' departure.
"Hello?" he said, his voice low, the storm's relentless patter outside mingling with the faint creak of the toilet's tiles, Zhang Ya's crimson presence stirring, her "Yours forever" vow a spectral whisper warning that this call could complicate his mission, tying him closer to the mysteries of Fan Yu's haunting drawings and the woman's tale of the sealed classroom.
A voice on the other end responded, deep and authoritative, exuding a calm confidence that cut through the phone's static.
"Are you Ru Xue's classmate? I hear you came across a strange boy whom you suspect is suffering from a psychological problem?" The words carried a gravity that steadied Chen Ge's nerves, grounding him amidst the school's supernatural chaos.
He recalled He San mentioning earlier that he'd given Chen Ge's number to Gao Ru Xue, whose father, a criminal psychology lecturer, now seemed to be on the line.
"I did, and you are?" Chen Ge asked, cautious but eager for insight into Fan Yu's behavior, which seemed inextricably linked to Mu Yang High School's horrors.
"I am Ru Xue's father," the man confirmed, his tone professional yet tinged with urgency, suggesting he understood the weight of psychological issues. Zhang Ya's mark flared in his eyes, her sadistic allure urging him to seize this opportunity, the black phone's mission looming as he stood in the toilet, the memory of the two childlike shadows and the red shadow's absence fueling his need for answers to navigate the night's dangers.
Gao Ru Xue's father pressed on, his voice steady but insistent. "Do you mind telling me about the boy in greater detail? Psychological illness is like venom in the body—if not addressed swiftly, it can ruin his future." The metaphor resonated, underscoring the severity of Fan Yu's condition and its potential ties to the school's cursed past, perhaps the crematorium or the sealed classroom's ghostly students.
Chen Ge took a breath, the damp air of the toilet heavy with mold, and began: "There's this boy, about seven or eight, physically fine but withdrawn. He avoids interaction, shuns sunlight, and seems to retreat into himself outside." The black phone's Deep Well hint—"Everyone has a deep well inside their heart where shameful and unknowable secrets stay buried"—echoed, suggesting Fan Yu's behavior was rooted in trauma, possibly linked to his parents' disappearance at this very school.
When Gao asked for more details, Chen Ge elaborated, his mind flashing to his encounter with Fan Yu. "I met him at the entrance of my Haunted House park attraction. His aunt said he's drawn to haunted houses, spending hours inside without showing fear or anxiety—emotions normal kids would feel. Instead, he's comfortable in darkness, like it gives him security."
The contrast was stark, Fan Yu's ease in the haunted environment clashing with his fear of sunlight, a behavior Chen Ge couldn't fathom until he saw it himself. "He even showed interest in an actor dressed as a corpse," he added, the memory vivid: Fan Yu's curiosity toward the macabre, his small frame unperturbed by what terrified others. Zhang Ya's sadistic whispers urged him to connect this to Mu Yang High School, where the Fifth Cubicle mission and the childlike shadows might hold answers to Fan Yu's trauma. The toilet's oppressive silence, broken only by the rain's drone, heightened his urgency, the black phone's weight a reminder that every detail shared could bring him closer to surviving the night.
Gao's voice paused, the silence heavy before he responded. "If it's just a lack of fear, it could be autism, possibly damaging the amygdala, the brain's center for processing memory and emotions like fear and rage. Without a functioning amygdala, even a lion wouldn't scare him, let alone a haunted house." Chen Ge frowned, the explanation too clinical for Fan Yu's complexity.
"Doctor Gao, it's not that he's fearless. He's terrified of sunlight, avoids it like it hurts him, but thrives in the dark.
Outside the haunted house, he's silent, withdrawn, but inside, he's alive, energized. When his aunt tried to pull him out, he fought back, even injured her." Gao considered this, then offered, "It sounds like bipolar disorder—destructive when angered, withdrawn when depressed. But the haunted house trigger is unusual. If his behavior shifts there, the source might be a trauma tied to a haunted house, perhaps from his childhood or his parents' work." The theory sparked a realization in Chen Ge, the black phone's mission and Fan Yu's connection to Mu Yang High School's horrors—its crematorium past, the sealed classroom.