They say every school trip is meant to create memories.
But some memories were never meant to exist.
The Edelweiss Mansion has stood for centuries, rotting on its hill like a scar on the earth. Locals whisper about its curse: every few decades, a bus of students finds its way there, swallowed by storm and shadow. None are remembered. None ever graduate.
Tonight, the storm has chosen again.
And one student among them was never supposed to be here.
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The rain had started as a drizzle, the kind that left tiny freckles on the glass. But by the time the bus wound its way into the mountains, the drizzle had become a deluge. Water hammered against the windows in violent sheets, the world outside reduced to a shifting blur of gray and black. Wind howled through the trees, bending their skeletal forms until they looked like arms clawing at the sky.
Inside, thirty students filled the air with a different storm—of laughter, teasing, and nervous chatter. No one wanted to admit they were afraid. No one wanted to be the first to say it.
"Everyone, sit down and stop acting like children!" barked Ayaka Sumeragi, the class president, from the center aisle. Her arms were crossed, her expression flawless even as the bus lurched violently. Ayaka was the kind of person who treated every school event as if she were leading an army. Field trips included.
Nobody listened. Nobody ever did.
"This bus is a tin can with wheels," sneered Tsubasa Okabe, lounging in the front with his blazer unbuttoned, tie loose, and shoes polished enough to reflect the dim lights. He didn't bother hiding his disdain. "We'll skid into the ravine and die cheap. I can see the headlines already: Elite Academy's Brats Become Roadkill."
The bus groaned as if agreeing with him.
"Shut up, rich boy," Sayaka Mori snapped, her boots propped on the back of his seat. Her hair was cropped short, streaked with rebellious dye, and her grin was razor-sharp. She kicked the seat hard enough to jolt him upright. "If we crash, you'll be the first one crying for your daddy's money."
Laughter erupted. Nervous, too loud, but laughter all the same. Even the storm couldn't quite drown it.
That was when Kenta Moriyama, the class clown, saw his chance. He stumbled dramatically into the aisle, nearly toppling as the bus swerved, then spread his arms like a bad comedian on stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he bellowed, voice echoing off the rattling windows. "On your left—the legendary Forest of No Return! On your right—the express lane to certain death! Please enjoy the ride, because refunds are tragically unavailable!"
The bus roared with laughter. Some clapped, others jeered, but for a moment the storm outside was forgotten.
"Idiots," Reina Kurosawa whispered from her window seat. Dressed head-to-toe in black, her lips painted as dark as her nails, she looked every bit the prophet of doom. She didn't raise her voice, yet somehow her words cut through the laughter. "You joke now, but storms kill people every year. Maybe this year, it's us."
The laughter faltered. A few exchanged nervous glances.
"Reina!" Yume Hoshino, the dreamer of the class, leaned over from across the aisle. Her smile was bright, maybe too bright, like she was trying to light a candle in a hurricane. "Don't say things like that. It's just a storm. We'll be fine."
"'Just a storm,'" Reina repeated, her smile cold. "Storms bury houses. Storms sink ships. Storms don't care who's ready for exams."
"Creep," Sayaka muttered.
But no one laughed this time.
Near the middle of the bus, Mika Hanazono, the self-styled idol, sighed loudly and flipped her glossy hair. "Can you all not? Some of us are trying to look cute for when we arrive. I can't do that if you're all summoning death flags."
"You're on a bus in a thunderstorm," Sayaka shot back. "Nobody cares about your hair."
"Speak for yourself," Tsubasa said smoothly, eyes flicking toward Mika with a smirk. "Some of us appreciate beauty under pressure."
Mika giggled, batting her lashes. Sayaka groaned.
Further back, Renji Takasaka, the science nerd, muttered while jotting in a notebook. "Technically, lightning strikes buses all the time. But the tires ground the electricity, so we'd probably survive… though, the subsequent crash might not be so forgiving."
"Very reassuring, Renji," Yume said flatly.
And then there was Toru Aoyama.
Pressed against the rear window, Toru barely moved, barely spoke. He was the kind of boy easy to overlook, the one teachers forgot to call on, the one classmates remembered only in fragments. Invisible. Safe. Or at least, he should have been.
Lightning flashed, and for an instant, his reflection blurred. Not by fog. Not by the rain. But as though his face had been wiped from the world.
He blinked, rubbed the glass. His face came back. Mostly.
"Don't look so gloomy, Toru." Yume's voice was soft, cutting through the chaos. She leaned over, her chin resting in her hands. "Trips are supposed to be fun. One day, we'll laugh about this. Promise."
"If we survive it," he murmured.
Before she could respond, the bus jolted violently, making several students scream. Bags toppled from overhead racks, thumping onto heads and laps.
"Dammit!" the driver swore, gripping the wheel tighter. His knuckles gleamed pale in the dim light. "The storm's too strong. I can't keep this up. We'll need to find shelter."
"In the middle of nowhere?" scoffed Mr. Takashi Aizawa, the math teacher. His glasses reflected the dashboard lights as he leaned forward. "We're on a mountainside. There's nothing here but trees."
But then the lightning split the sky again.
And there it was.
A mansion.
It loomed at the top of a hill, half-hidden by sheets of rain, yet undeniably massive. Gothic towers rose like broken teeth, windows glowed faintly as if lit from within, and iron gates yawned open, waiting.
The students fell silent. Even Tsubasa's smirk froze.
"What is that?" Kanae Fujimoto whispered, her glasses fogged as she pressed her face to the window. "No… I've read about it. The Edelweiss Mansion."
The name chilled the air. Even the storm seemed to hush, just for a heartbeat.
"Perfect," Tsubasa muttered, though his voice cracked. "A haunted house. Just what we needed."
The driver hesitated only a moment. "We don't have a choice. The road's flooding. We'll wait out the storm inside."
The bus turned onto the drive. Every creak of the engine was like dread made mechanical.
Toru glanced at the window again.
And there—among the reflections of thirty tired, frightened faces—he saw one more. Faceless. Blurred. Standing where no one sat.
He blinked. It was gone.
The bus rolled to a stop before the mansion. The iron gates slammed shut behind them, their groan echoing like laughter.
Inside, no one spoke. The storm still raged, but the silence in the bus was louder.