The library had the smell of something left too long in a grave.
Dust clung to every surface. The curtains sagged heavy with mildew. The books on the shelves bulged from dampness, their spines cracked, titles faded beyond recognition. Every time the storm outside growled, the whole room shivered like it might collapse inward.
The students huddled near the center tables. A cluster of damp uniforms, pale faces, jittering hands. Some stared at the floor, others at the covered body they'd left behind in the foyer. No one looked each other directly in the eye.
Even the teachers seemed smaller. Ms. Kaori folded her hands like she was praying, her smile stretched too thin. Shibata prowled near the door, his tracksuit plastered to his skin, muttering curses. Ms. Hayashida sat stiffly with her arms crossed, staring at nothing.
The silence stretched until it ached.
"This is pointless," Sayaka snapped, finally shattering it. Her voice was raw, half anger, half fear. "We're sitting here like sheep in a slaughterhouse. Someone explain to me why we're listening to a creepy puppet in a mask!"
"Because the puppet was right," Kanae whispered. She sat with a book clutched against her chest, knuckles white. "It said accidents would happen. And… they did."
Her words sat in the air like poison.
"That chandelier wasn't an accident," Reina said. She leaned against a shelf, her dark hair veiling half her face. The smile tugging at her lips looked carved there, cruel and patient. "It chose. The house chose. You can call it superstition, but you all felt it."
Ayaka rounded on her. "You shut your mouth!" Her voice was sharper than a whip. "All you ever do is make things worse."
Reina laughed softly, the sound thin and cold. "Truth always sounds worse."
"Enough!" Shibata barked, his voice booming like the storm. "No more of this nonsense. We'll wait for morning. The driver will come back, or the storm will clear, and we'll walk out together."
"No bus," Reina reminded him.
Shibata's jaw clenched.
"That's assuming we make it to morning," Tsubasa cut in. His voice was sharp, calculated, though his leg bounced under the table. "You all saw what that thing said. One of us doesn't belong. An Extra. Which means—" He leaned forward, eyes glittering. "—we can't trust anyone."
"Bullshit," Sayaka spat. "This is exactly what it wants. Divide us. Make us paranoid. That's how we lose."
"We already lost," Reina murmured.
The words ignited like sparks.
"Maybe we should start pointing fingers," Mika said suddenly. Her voice trembled, but her eyes gleamed with survival. She turned sharply, stabbing a manicured finger toward the back. "Him. Toru. He's quiet. Always staring off. He barely exists. Doesn't that make him the Extra?"
The group shifted. Dozens of eyes swiveled toward Toru.
His throat closed. His fingers clenched tight around the candle hidden in his sleeve. The flame pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, too bright, too alive.
"I'm not," Toru managed, his voice raw. "I'm not the Extra."
"Prove it," Mika snapped.
"How?" His voice cracked louder this time. "How do you prove you're not something?"
No one answered.
"You just want to throw blame off yourself," Sayaka growled, jabbing a finger back at Mika. "Spotlight girl. You'd kill someone just to keep the attention on you."
Mika shrieked. "Don't accuse me!"
"Then stop accusing him!"
The storm hammered the windows like fists. The chandeliers flickered.
Yume stepped between them, her voice breaking. "Please, stop this! Fighting each other won't help us! We're scared, I get it, but this isn't—this isn't the way—"
Tsubasa's laugh was short, harsh. "Says the girl who hides behind smiles. Maybe that's your mask. Maybe you're the one we shouldn't trust."
Yume flinched, tears springing to her eyes. "I—I would never—"
"Pathetic," Reina said, watching them all like a spectator at an arena. "Look at us. The house doesn't even need to kill us. We'll do it ourselves."
"Enough!" Ayaka snapped, slamming her palm on the table. The crack echoed. "We are not turning this into a witch hunt."
"But it already is," Kanae whispered. Her glasses fogged, her lips pale. "That's what the trial means."
"The trial?" Sayaka asked sharply.
Kanae's voice shook, but she forced the words out. "I… I've read about curses like this. Old records. Families trapped. Villages. There's always a ritual. A vote. The house forces you to choose someone to sacrifice. If you pick wrong…" She shuddered. "…everyone suffers."
Silence thickened, heavy as wet wool.
And then a sound broke it.
Thump.
A book slid itself from a shelf, pages fluttering open on the floor.
No one touched it.
No one dared.
Reina's smile widened. "The house is listening."
---
Toru's POV
The candle in his hand pulsed brighter, cold fire licking his palm. He hid it in his blazer, terrified someone would see. But no one reacted.
He wondered if he was going mad.
Or if the flame itself was laughing.