The classroom air was suffocating.
Chen Yi's heartbeat hammered so loudly it nearly drowned out the sound of the ticking clock.
The girl in the back row hadn't moved. She simply sat there, overlapping the slumbering boy as though she belonged to a different layer of reality. Her faint outline flickered like static on a broken screen.
Chen Yi stumbled backward, his chair screeching against the floor. "W–Who are you?" His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.
No reply.
Only that faint, twisted smile curling on her lips.
The classroom door slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang. He spun around, lunging for the knob. His sweaty hands twisted, pulled, shoved. The door rattled but didn't open—it was as if something on the other side was holding it shut.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The second hand of the wall clock marched steadily past midnight.
And then—cough.
A dry, human cough broke the silence.
Chen Yi froze. His gaze snapped back to the last row. The boy who had been slumped over the desk stirred awake, rubbing his eyes. He sat up slowly, yawning, completely oblivious.
"What's wrong with you?" the boy muttered, his voice groggy. "Why are you acting like you've seen a ghost?"
Chen Yi's lips parted, trembling. He glanced from the boy to the faint silhouette overlapping him. "You… you don't see her?"
The boy frowned. "See who?"
Even as he spoke, the girl's figure wavered, growing more transparent. Within seconds, she melted into the shadows, leaving only the sleeping boy behind.
Chen Yi's breath came in shallow gasps. He wanted to scream at him, to demand if this was all some sick joke. But the boy's expression changed. His eyes, still heavy with sleep a moment ago, sharpened unnaturally.
He leaned forward slightly, his tone low, deliberate.
"Don't you know? She only shows herself to the ones who are connected."
The words pierced through Chen Yi like a blade. His throat tightened. Connected? To what? To her?
Before he could speak, the boy blinked lazily, as if waking from a dream. He rubbed his eyes again and muttered, "Man, I must be really tired," before laying his head back down on the desk. Within moments, his breathing steadied into the rhythm of sleep.
Chen Yi stood rooted to the spot, his palms slick with sweat.
Had he imagined it? That sharp look in the boy's eyes, those cryptic words… it felt too deliberate, too real.
The clock read 12:07 AM.
The night dragged on in unbearable silence.
By morning, the world seemed ordinary again. Sunlight streamed through the windows, flooding the campus with warmth and color. Students bustled through the corridors, laughing and chatting as though nothing had happened.
But Chen Yi felt detached, as if a thin veil separated him from everyone else. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind—the girl, the door that refused to open, the boy's strange words.
At lunch, he finally gathered the courage to ask a few classmates about it. "Hey… uh, you guys ever hear weird stories about this school?"
The group exchanged uneasy glances. One of them forced a laugh. "You mean those ghost rumors? Come on, man, those are just stories."
"Yeah," another added quickly. "Don't take them seriously. It's just to scare first-years."
But their eyes darted away. Their voices were too hurried, too forced.
Chen Yi pressed further. "What about Class 3–2? About… someone who isn't supposed to be here?"
Silence. The group fell quiet, their expressions stiff. One of them stood abruptly, muttering something about being late, and the others followed suit. Within seconds, they had all left, leaving Chen Yi alone with his unease.
Just as he was about to give up, a calm voice spoke behind him.
"You saw her, didn't you?"
Chen Yi turned sharply. It was Lin Xi, the class's top student. She stood with her lunch tray balanced neatly in her hands, her eyes steady, unwavering.
"The classmate who doesn't exist," she said matter-of-factly.
Chen Yi's blood ran cold.