The night wrapped itself around the campus like a suffocating shroud.
The sports field was empty, the dormitory lights dim, and the rows of classrooms stood silent like hollow shells. Even the usual chorus of crickets seemed to have been muted, as though the entire school held its breath.
Inside Class 3–2, the ticking of the wall clock was the only sound. Each tick landed heavily in Chen Yi's ears, amplifying the silence rather than breaking it. The hands inched toward 11:59 PM.
Chen Yi sat by the window, his textbooks spread across the desk. The pages ruffled with the occasional draft of cool night air, but he hadn't read a single line in the past half hour. His eyes kept straying toward the door.
It had been only a week since he transferred here. Everything about this school felt… strange. The hallways seemed darker than they should be, even in daylight. The teachers sometimes skipped roll call, as if they were avoiding something. And the students whispered in low voices, trading ghost stories whenever they thought no one was listening.
"Every night at midnight, someone comes to class 3–2."
"But there's no such student in the register."
He had laughed when he first heard it. Ghost stories were common in every school, weren't they? Just nonsense to scare new students. At least, that was what he wanted to believe.
But tonight, alone in the classroom, he wasn't so sure.
A faint breeze stirred the yellowed curtain by the teacher's desk. Then—footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate. Echoing down the empty hallway.
Chen Yi stiffened. His pulse spiked.
"At this hour… who would still be here?" he whispered under his breath.
The footsteps drew closer, steady and unhurried, as if the one walking knew exactly where they were going.
Closer.
Closer.
The doorknob rattled once, then the classroom door creaked open. No one touched it. No one pushed. It simply swung inward, as though inviting someone unseen to step inside.
And then, she appeared.
A girl, clad in an old, faded school uniform—one Chen Yi didn't recognize. The style looked outdated, as if it belonged to a different era. Her head hung low, long black hair spilling forward to obscure her face.
She didn't glance around. Didn't acknowledge him.
Her steps were soundless now, but deliberate, as she walked past the rows of empty desks. Straight to the very back row.
And sat down.
Chen Yi's breath caught. His chest tightened painfully. Because that seat… wasn't empty.
He blinked rapidly, praying he was mistaken. But no—the shape of a boy slumped over the desk was still there. One of his classmates, fast asleep, oblivious to everything.
The girl lowered herself right into the same chair. Her pale, translucent form overlapped perfectly with the sleeping boy. It was as though reality had glitched, layering two people onto one seat.
Neither reacted. Neither seemed aware of the other's existence.
Cold sweat slid down Chen Yi's back. His throat constricted, dry and tight. He wanted to shout, to stand, to do something, but his body refused to obey. He could only stare.
The classroom felt wrong—thicker somehow, as though the air itself had grown heavy. Shadows pooled unnaturally in the corners, stretching long and dark.
The wall clock let out a sharp tick.
The second hand trembled, then clicked into place.
12:00 AM. Midnight.
At the same instant, the electronic clock at the front of the room emitted a faint beep.
The sound was small, yet in that silence it reverberated like a thunderclap.
Chen Yi's vision blurred for a moment. The lights flickered. And in that flicker, for just a split second, every desk in the classroom seemed occupied—dozens of shadowy figures sitting stiffly in their chairs, all facing forward, unmoving.
He blinked, and they were gone.
Only the girl remained. Still in the back row. Still overlapping with the slumbering boy.
His heartbeat roared in his ears.
What… what the hell is going on?
He bit down hard on his lip to keep himself from gasping. A metallic tang spread across his tongue—blood. At least the pain reminded him he was still awake, still sane.
The girl's head tilted slightly, as though she had finally noticed him. Strands of black hair fell aside, revealing the curve of a pale cheek.
Chen Yi's entire body went rigid.
And then—smile.
Barely perceptible. Cold. Wrong.
A smile that seemed less human expression, more echo of something that had forgotten what it meant to be alive.
The classroom door slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang.
Chen Yi's heart leapt into his throat. His legs finally obeyed, pushing him halfway out of his seat. But the girl… didn't move. She only kept smiling faintly, her eyes still hidden beneath the curtain of her hair.
The clock ticked on.
12:01.
And in that moment, Chen Yi realized the rumors were true.
At midnight, Class 3–2 welcomed a classmate who was never supposed to exist.