1:08 PM
Right now, I'm hoping the teacher arrives soon. Whenever he's late, he extends the class at the end.
Honestly, why do I have to be in this remedial class? Oh, right, that's my fault. I made a deal with the principal to maintain 100% attendance, allowing me to skip extracurricular activities like clubs.
Kobayashi Keiko, the class representative and first student council secretary, enters the classroom with her head hanging low. A noticeable aura of defeat radiates from her.
Miyu approaches her to start a conversation—it's natural to want to be close to someone from the upper echelon of school life.
"Keiko-san, is something wrong?" she asks with a cheerful smile.
"Ugh... man. I feel like I just got a serious scolding," Keiko says awkwardly, scratching her head.
"From Kaichou?" Miyu asks, surprised.
"Yeah... I informed her that I needed to attend the remedial math class. It was terrible." She pauses as she sits, takes a deep breath, and concludes, "She didn't verbally degrade me even once, but her 'Hmmm. I see' was enough to crush me."
Miyu continues smiling, slightly concerned.
The teacher enters the room, and everyone standing returns to their seats.
Slightly irritated, he opens his bag and pulls out a stack of papers. Staring at the sheets with great displeasure, he begins to lecture.
"Well, as you all know, the class average on the math exam was abysmal. Therefore, the coordinator requested I conduct remedial classes during the time usually reserved for club activities."
He sighs with a tired look and continues.
"I'm very disappointed in you. Only one student avoided a failing grade. I expected more from my students, especially you, Kobayashi."
She lowers her gaze, looking like a dog that just ate its owner's shoe.
Then he looks at me and says, "Johann, however, congratulations on acing the test."
I nod out of courtesy, and he resumes his lecture, explaining that students should take at least an hour of their free time to review the material.
I can't understand how they can do poorly on something that requires no memorization. Everything can be deduced at the moment.
The teacher starts the class by working on the simple math problems from the test.
After some time, at 2:17 PM, the loudspeakers start crackling. Everyone looks at them as if seeking refuge from the monotony. They're probably hoping for some unusual announcement from the principal or president—anything to break this dull class.
To my classmates' dismay, the expected voice doesn't appear, causing a small wave of collective anxiety.
"Could it be broken?" a student whispers.
The static suddenly stops, and finally, an announcement begins.
"Hello, everyone! From now on, we're going to play a game!"
This was doubly unusual. Not only was the content nonsensical, but it was also a child's voice. It caught everyone's attention, including the teacher.
"Hey, onee-chan, I'm supposed to make the announcement this time," a second voice chimes in.
Another child? What the hell is going on?
"Oh, you're right. Sorry, go ahead."
I look around and see everyone murmuring among themselves. The teacher remains fixed on the loudspeaker, irritated at the interruption to his class.
"All right, here's how the game will work. There are only three players, but don't worry—everyone can participate!" the second voice continues enthusiastically.
There are no students matching the age of these voices. Probably, some staff member brought their kids to work, and the mischievous children snuck into the audio room to play a prank.
"And the rules are straightforward: the game ends immediately with the death of one of the three players," the explanation continues.
The class stirs uncomfortably upon hearing the word "death." What are these kids watching to come up with an idea like this? Maybe an older person is behind the prank and made them do it.
"However, the one responsible for the player's death—whether they are another player or not—will face the same fate as their victim. The game lasts 150 hours starting now," the animated voice gradually shifts into something more serious and lifeless.
Everyone is frozen in place, utterly confused. This is becoming disturbingly unsettling. Obviously, there's no chance this could be real.
But why? Why does this joke disturb me so profoundly? I feel crushing anxiety with every word, a suffocating pressure, as if I'm at the deepest point of an ocean, being crushed by a massive column of water.
"And most importantly, no one is forced to participate!" The excitement in the voice briefly returns but then shifts back to the somber tone for the following sentence. "You can simply forfeit by leaving through the main gate. In that case, your soul will be consumed, and you will vanish. Remember: the price for leaving the game is a life. The three players will soon realize they are the chosen ones."
2:19 PM
The children's voices stop, and the loudspeakers abruptly turn off. I look around and see everyone wide-eyed, mouths agape.
A comment from the teacher breaks this stillness.
"Pay attention to the class!" he says, returning to the board and grumbling about the incident. "Kids these days... even breaking into a school to pull a prank."
"As if something like that could be real. This is real life, not a movie," Keiko says, scratching her head.
She probably believed the madness and is now pretending she didn't to avoid looking foolish.
"The story they came up with was pretty clever. Hahaha," another student comments, laughing.
And so, little by little, the students' focus returns to the blackboard and the sound of the chalk hitting it as the teacher writes.
"In this problem, the dimension is easily found using the law of cosines," the teacher continues writing on the board.
The calm doesn't last long. This time, a scream outside throws the atmosphere back into tension.
"What was that?!" a student exclaims as they run to the window.
Approximately seventy percent of the class stands abruptly and rushes to the window to see what happened. They squeeze together, eager to satisfy their curiosity, while the teacher tries to get them to sit down again.
"Everyone, focus on the class! I don't have all day!" the teacher complains.
"Oh my God! It looks like someone died!" a female student shouts.
Died? What do you mean?
"Stay here. I'll go check what happened!" the teacher says.
They completely ignore the teacher's words and run out the door toward the courtyard.
"Oh, heavens. I don't get paid enough for this job," the teacher grumbles, following after them.
Taking advantage of the empty room, I approach the window. I see a crowd of students gathered around the main gate. Apparently, there are people from all the other classes. Soon after, I also spot my classmates joining the crowd.
From this angle, it's hard to understand what's going on there. Maybe I should go to a hallway window for a better perspective.
As I decide to move for a clearer view, my eyes catch the same scene from earlier. At the edge of the crowd, the mysterious figure of the exchange student is once again staring at me.
Her again? Why does her presence disturb me so much?
2:28 PM
I run out of the classroom, down the stairs as fast as possible, and approach the scene. At first, I couldn't care less about the spectacle intriguing the crowd—I just need to alleviate this ominous feeling suffocating my chest.
I walk back and forth around the gathering, but there's no sign of the girl. I try to see if she's hidden within the masses, but that doesn't seem to be the case either. She simply vanished.
I must admit it's strange how much her presence at the school bothers me. But I can't ignore my instincts screaming at me to be suspicious of her arrival coinciding with this bizarre incident.
As I give up searching for her, I begin to focus more on the issue captivating everyone's attention: the supposed prank by the children. I approach the gate and see several clothes lying at the school's entrance. Among them are many uniforms of staff and teachers, but the one drawing everyone's attention is that of a student.
"Asahi-kun disappeared right in front of my eyes!" a girl cries out, her face drenched in tears.
Some first-year girls are playing the witnesses. But what they're claiming is impossible. Then again, I wouldn't be too upset if that loud and arrogant guy really disappeared.
"All right, that's enough chaos. Everyone, get back inside the school!" our teacher steps in to restore order.
"But we're in danger!" another student protests.
The teacher walks toward the school gate, carefully observing the staff's clothes and Asahi's alleged uniform. He turns to face the crowd of students and says as he crosses the gate, "Nonsense! This is completely unreal. Look, I can leave freely—"
The moment the teacher finishes his sentence, he disappears, leaving only his clothes falling as proof he was ever there.
The girls closest to the scene scream in horror.
"The teacher disappeared too!" another student exclaims.
Judging by the reactions around me, this is apparently what the others saw. What I witnessed, however, shook me so deeply I could barely scream or run. I'm simply paralyzed.
Standing right in front of the gate is the entity responsible for the teacher's "disappearance."
Death.
It was Death who claimed the teacher.