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(Image source: Generated by Novel AI)
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The sisters finally made it to the ground floor. The good thing about running into that terrifyingly handsome guy was that they hadn’t encountered any more monsters along the way—it seemed he’d drawn them all away.
They managed to leave the building safely, and as they stepped into the courtyard, Yay looked up at the teaching building behind them. She realized its architecture looked almost identical to the school on the cover of Marelin High.
She started to wonder: could this actually be the long-abandoned Marelin High?
The courtyard resembled an ancient garden. In the center was a murky fish pond, spanned by a bridge that led to a pavilion in the middle. The water was so dark and bottomless that the whole scene felt even creepier.
By the pond stood another figure. This time, Yay was cautious and didn’t approach. From the back, it looked like a girl, vaguely familiar. While Yay was considering sneaking a look at her face, Yuni was already calling out, “Xin-Cheng Liu.”
The girl turned around, startled at the sound of someone approaching. “Ah! Yuni, Yaya!”
Xin-Cheng Liu ran over, overjoyed. “I finally found you two!”
“No, we found you,” Yuni corrected calmly.
Yay silently admired her sister’s sharp eyes—how could she recognize someone she’d just met from a shadowy silhouette?
Xin-Cheng Liu explained that she’d also fallen into this abandoned school building. Her textbook had turned into a lantern, and the directory was useless; all she could do was head down floor by floor until she reached the courtyard. She was lucky—not a single monster had appeared.
“I walked around the whole courtyard but still couldn’t find an exit,” Xin-Cheng Liu sighed.
“If everything here is made of paper, what if we set it on fire?” Yuni mused.
“…We’d better make sure we get out before we burn ourselves alive,” Yay replied, sweating.
“Paper?” Xin-Cheng Liu was puzzled.
Yay hesitated, debating whether to admit Yuni was a ‘muggle’, but Yuni answered for herself: “I can’t see the school you’re describing. To me, this place looks like a maze built from piles of yellowed paper.”
“I see.” Xin-Cheng Liu thought for a moment, then broke into an excited grin. “That could be our way out!”
Yay was surprised. Not only did Xin-Cheng Liu not question how Yuni had gotten in, she even saw it as a good thing. They were lucky to have met a genuinely nice person.
“Let’s start a fire then! Anyone got a lighter?” Xin-Cheng Liu rolled up her sleeves, all fired up.
“Wait—are you serious?!” Yay suddenly wanted to take back everything nice she’d just thought. These two were a disaster together: one tossing out wild ideas, the other eager to try them.
But none of them had a lighter. Yuni and Xin-Cheng Liu were disappointed, while Yay felt a little relieved.
“Wait, our textbooks turned into lanterns. Is there a flame inside, or just a lightbulb?” Xin-Cheng Liu asked, shifting her attention to the lantern.
Yay tried to open it, but the lampshade was stuck tight—no luck.
Click! A small flame appeared at the tip of a fountain pen.
From behind the campus tree, an adult emerged. Dressed in a white shirt with an open collar and fitted black trousers, they had long black hair blowing elegantly in the breeze, pale skin with dark circles under the eyes, and a striking, almost melancholy beauty.
Their movements were lazy yet elegant. Lighting a cigarette, they took a drag. With a slender, androgynous frame, Yay had initially thought it was a cool guy, but as soon as the person spoke, she realized it was actually a tall, handsome woman.
“Did someone mention needing fire?” The beautiful, world-weary woman glanced at the three girls and casually handed the fountain pen-shaped lighter to the nearest one.
“Thank you!” Xin-Cheng Liu accepted the lighter without a second thought.
Yay’s internal alarm blared. After that weirdo who could summon monsters, now here was another who’d lend a lighter at the mere mention of arson. Was this some kind of terrorist hideout?
“Who are you?” Yuni asked bluntly.
“You must be the new kids, right? Welcome. I’m Xin-Jie Wang, faculty advisor of the Urban Legends Club.” She gave a lazy smile. “How did you end up here? Marelin’s directory shouldn’t point to this place.”
“We drew two arrows at once.”
“Oh my, looks like someone found a loophole. Good thing it only triggered a reset and didn’t split the students in two. I’ll have to fix that later.”
Yay’s scalp tingled. Split into two? That sounded deadly…
Xin-Jie Wang smiled. “So, why are you setting fires?”
“We couldn’t find a way out, so we thought we’d try burning the place. It feels like we’re trapped in a story world,” Xin-Cheng Liu answered honestly.
Yay suddenly wished she could pretend not to know Xin-Cheng Liu. Whether this person was a real teacher or not, admitting to arson sounded like a terrible idea.
“You’re not wrong—it is a story world. But this isn’t a place for kids to play. There are no safety measures here; it’s dangerous,” Xin-Jie Wang didn’t seem at all concerned about their plan, just calmly advised them to be careful.
“So is this place abandoned? I saw all those monsters covered in ‘unfinished’ descriptions.” Yay thought again of the thread-doll that had made her cry earlier. “Do we have to finish those descriptions to leave?”
She didn’t really understand what ‘unfinished’ meant. If she completed them, would the thread-doll… turn into a giant one?
“You’re overthinking it, kid. This place isn’t open to students, but Storycrafters can come and go as they like. You’re just stuck because you haven’t learned Story-Command yet,” Xin-Jie Wang said, exhaling smoke.
“How do we use Story-Command to leave?”
“There are local Story-Command rules in effect here. That’s why your Marelin book was overwritten as a lantern. If you reactivate Marelin’s Story-Command, you can return.”
The three girls looked at Xin-Jie Wang, question marks practically running wild above their heads.
Xin-Jie Wang wore the tired expression of someone who couldn’t be bothered to explain. She waved her hand. “Let me finish my smoke, then I’ll send you back. Don’t tell anyone else about this place, and don’t come here again, okay?”
“Okay…”
“Could you go smoke a little farther away? It smells awful,” Yuni finally protested.
“Sure, sure.” Xin-Jie Wang wandered away, cigarette in hand.
Xin-Cheng Liu gathered some twigs and lit a small campfire—hardly arson; it felt more like a camp-out.
“Can you see the fire burning the paper now?” she asked Yuni.
“I don’t see flames, but the paper’s turning to ash,” Yuni replied.
Whoosh!
Something seemed to descend from above. Xin-Jie Wang instantly snapped her cigarette in half and tossed it aside.
Like a rocket landing, turbulent air whipped up all around, flickering with ghostly blue fire. A woman with wild, skyward hair hovered in midair, about half an arm’s length off the ground, her pen glowing with supernatural energy. When she put the pen away, the eerie light faded, and she landed lightly with a thud.
She was also an adult woman, with a sharp, commanding face and short, neat hair, dressed in a crisp black suit. Though she wasn’t tall, she stood straight as a sword.
Her eyes were razor-sharp; a single glance was enough to make you want to kneel and confess—especially if you felt guilty, or were about to cause trouble.
“So, this is where you’re hiding to cool off?” The woman’s tone was gentle, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.
“Just taking a break before heading back,” Xin-Jie Wang replied, looking nonchalant—except for the subtle way she nudged her discarded cigarette even farther away.
The girls watched, feeling like they were witnessing a delinquent caught smoking by the head of discipline.
Mei-Xin Lin glanced at the three spectators, then advanced on Xin-Jie Wang. “Not only are you slacking off, you’re smoking in front of students. Do you have any sense of responsibility, Principal Wang?”
Yay was stunned. She’d suspected Xin-Jie Wang’s identity, but principal?!
Maybe because this was a hidden school within a book, beyond the reach of the Ministry of Education, and with only half an hour passing in the real world, there weren’t many complaints from parents—so the principal could be like this?
Yay felt like she’d stumbled onto the real reason.
“Relax, Director Lin. It’s because smoking is banned inside that I came out here. Who knew the freshmen would wander in?” Xin-Jie Wang protested.
“And you didn’t expect your lighter to end up with them either, did you?” Mei-Xin Lin said expressionlessly.
“Students should be encouraged to experiment…” Xin-Jie Wang muttered.
With a perfectly flat expression, Mei-Xin Lin kicked Xin-Jie Wang’s shin—hard—forcing her to crouch and clutch her leg.
“How did you all end up here?” Mei-Xin Lin turned to the students.
It was the same question as before, but now it carried an intense pressure that made Yay freeze, not daring to breathe.
Yuni was unfazed. “Does it say in the rules you can’t draw two arrows at once?”
Xin-Cheng Liu whispered, “It’s not written anywhere.”
“Then what did we do wrong? Isn’t this a design problem?” Yuni pressed.
Mei-Xin Lin’s lips quirked in a barely-there smile, making it impossible to tell if she was genuinely amused. “Yes, that is a design problem.”
Xin-Jie Wang just looked defeated. “I’ve already restricted the directory. You used to be able to write anything—now it’s just arrows. But students still try to draw two at once…”
Mei-Xin Lin simply stared at her.
“Well, dealing with unpredictable creatures means you have to plan for every possibility. Let me check, what version are we on now? Haha…”
For some reason, Yay found the principal’s smile a little terrifying and edged back, feeling a wave of inexplicable guilt. She’d suspected the principal was some kind of addict, but now it seemed more like chronic sleep deprivation.
“You act like you’re the only one making fixes,” Mei-Xin Lin scoffed. “Anyone who likes slacking, sneaking smokes, and only working last-minute has no right to complain.”
Xin-Jie Wang huddled down again, hugging her shin as if it could keep her warm. Suddenly, she looked around as if sensing something in the darkness. Mei-Xin Lin’s expression darkened, and she glanced into the shadows as well.
“What? What’s wrong?” Xin-Cheng Liu asked nervously.
“It’s nothing,” Xin-Jie Wang replied, dusting herself off and turning to stare into the pitch-black fish pond.
Yay silently groaned—why did adults never explain anything clearly? Didn’t they realize that only made things scarier?
She braced herself to ask a question.
Mei-Xin Lin looked serious. “Send the students back first.”
Yay immediately swallowed her complaint. “Thank you, teacher.”
Just then, a soft voice asked from behind them, “What time is it now?”
A girl in a white school uniform stood silently behind them, her face pale in the moonlight—ethereal, but hauntingly strange.
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