"How could this happen?" I stared at my phone in disbelief, shock written all over my face.
Catori was my friend, though one of the most awkward guys in our class. He had a sharp-tongued demeanor and was rather lewd. His academic performance was poor, and he was stingy. In our humanities class, he had absolutely no appeal to any girl. But because I was in a similar boat, we became good friends.
Now, to think he had managed to fucking with a girl within just two hours was impossible for him.
When Catori saw the text message, his face turned pale. He trembled as he stood up, eyes darting around, his voice shaky: "Um, who's willing to… to be with me?" He looked around hopefully. But as his words fell silent, there was only silence in response. All the girls either instinctively turned away or kept their heads down, not a single one willing to speak up.
Seeing this, Catori understood. Trembling, he looked at the girls, his voice trembling with tears: "Please, someone help me." None of the girls responded, not a word uttered. I looked at Catori helplessly, feeling deeply saddened. He was, after all, my friend. Seeing him like this hurt me deeply.
That's when I stood up, trembling, and said, "Who can save Catori? He's a good guy who would treat you right." Catori trembled, hopeful eyes scanning the room. Yet despite his plea, none of the girls were willing to respond. After all, promises from someone like Catori were worthless.
Catori couldn't bear it any longer. He approached Afya, the least popular girl in our class. Despite her pretty name, Afya was a tough girl—overweight, bold in personality, even sporting a faint mustache. No guy in our class would ever consider dating her. Seeing Catori approaching, Afya turned away disdainfully, saying, "I have no interest in guys like you. Weak and disgusting. Get lost."
"Afya, please, I'm begging you. Just help me out," Catori pleaded with a desperate expression.
But no matter how Catori tried, Afya adamantly refused. At this point, Catori felt hopeless.
As time passed, the deadline of two hours drew nearer. Yet no girl was willing to help him. By the end of the third class, with just over ten minutes left, Catori sat on the floor, his face pale. He cried out, a mix of laughter and tears, "It's over. Everything's over."
Watching Catori like this, I felt deeply unsettled. Despite his lewd demeanor, he was my friend. I remembered how at the beginning of the school year, we'd spend all day together, discussing the girls in our class, Catori animated whenever the topic came up.
But now, seeing him like this, and the girls in our class indifferent… Perhaps to them, someone like Catori didn't matter, even if he died.
Catori sat slumped on the ground, looking around blankly, his expression vacant.
In the blink of an eye, as the deadline approached, with just two minutes left, he stood up, his expression grim. His gaze swept around, as if engraving everyone's faces into his memory. Then, with a cold tone, he said, "Even in death, I won't let any of you off. Just you wait."
After saying this, he stormed to the window. His gaze met mine, and he shouted, "Alxe, you have to keep living well. And never trust girls, especially the pretty ones. They're not good." With a bitter smile, he leaped out of the window, the sound of a heavy impact following. I turned pale instantly. Rushing to the window, I saw Catori's body lying on the ground outside, blood everywhere.
I sat down weakly on the floor, tears streaming down my face. Inside the classroom, everyone remained silent, faces hardened.
As I sat there numbly, the voice of the underworld gatekeeper pinged again in our group chat. This time, his tone was cold: "Catori chose suicide, therefore no punishment will be imposed."
I gritted my teeth as I replied on my phone, "Who are you? How do I end this game?"
Finally, the gatekeeper responded, with just one sentence: "To leave this game, you must complete eighteen tasks."
I was stunned. I stared at my phone, speechless for a long while.
Catori had taken his own life.
The police returned to the school. No one could have imagined that within two days, two people would have died in this classroom.
Seeing Catori's mother, a petite woman with a face full of sorrow, cry over his body, I could only watch silently, my heart filled with anger.
Back in the classroom, conversations buzzed, everyone wearing a somber expression.
I returned to my seat apathetically, sighed heavily, my face reflecting sorrow.
Donato looked at me, comforting, "Don't be too sad. I'm also deeply saddened by Catori's death. But the dead cannot be brought back. You need to mourn."
I shook my head without speaking, my mind stuck on one thing.
If today's target was not Catori, but me, would my fate be the same as his?
Reluctantly, I had to admit, my fate wouldn't differ much from Catori's. Because like him, I was a nobody. No girl would sacrifice herself for me.
If it were someone like Iago, tall, handsome, and wealthy, perhaps the situation would be entirely different.
That's when I realized this game was unfair. Someone like me was naturally at a disadvantage. If there were similar tasks in the future, I would likely meet the same end.
At that moment, my heart filled with hatred towards the underworld gatekeeper.
But I was helpless. After all, I didn't even know who the gatekeeper really was.
Yet now, I had a clue—complete eighteen tasks to earn freedom. But so far, I had only completed one task.
Seventeen more awaited me.
No one knew what the next tasks would be. Could I complete them? Thinking about it filled me with worry.
I silently resolved to complete all eighteen tasks, no matter what, and then escape this nightmare alive.
But for now, the immediate concern was uncovering the true identity of the underworld gatekeeper. Up until now, we didn't even know if he was human or ghost.
This morning, no one paid attention in class, each lost in thought about what lay ahead.
"Completing eighteen tasks to gain freedom isn't that difficult."
"Yeah, we shouldn't be afraid. We just need to complete the tasks."
"But who knows what terrifying tasks the gatekeeper might assign? He made Cyrilla strip naked."
As arguments flared, the class monitor stepped forward, announcing that he had found clues about a girl who died in this classroom a few years ago, named Taigi. Apparently, she died here under mysterious circumstances. Perhaps the underworld gatekeeper had something to do with her.
Hearing this, I pondered. Perhaps the gatekeeper was Taigi, now turned vengeful spirit, seeking retribution from us. But even if we knew the gatekeeper was Taigi, we were Taigipowerless. We were just students, incapable of dealing with a ghost.
However, the class monitor claimed to know a Taoist master who might be able to help us. This sparked hope among many, some even cheering.
By the afternoon, the class monitor indeed brought an old man, dressed like a fortune teller, wearing sunglasses and holding a compass. He staggered into our classroom.
As he entered, his gaze instinctively swept around, his expression turning serious. After a while, he spoke slowly, "This shouldn't be. There shouldn't be any deaths here." He looked at us, then suddenly reached out, saying, "Let me see your phones."
One girl promptly handed him her phone. Taking it, the old man glanced at the screen, his face turning pale. Hastily returning the phone, he stared around the classroom, as if he had seen something terrifying.
He knelt down, his face pale, bowing repeatedly. After several bows, he shouted, "This has nothing to do with me! Please don't come after me."
Saying this, he turned to run out. But the class monitor caught him. Just as he was about to ask, the old man shook off his grip, shouting:
"If you want to die, don't drag me along with you!"
He rushed out into the corridor. When the class monitor and others chased after him, he had vanished without a trace. When the class monitor returned to the classroom, everyone wore bewildered expressions.
"What just happened? Why did he run off?" Iago asked in confusion, the others equally perplexed, staring at the class monitor.
Pale-faced, the class monitor shook his head, equally at a loss.
Regardless, ever since the old man fled, fear gripped everyone in the classroom. Even I felt a chill. Did the old man discover something sinister in the classroom? Is that why he ran away?