"Hello there~ Are you a new student?"
"What's your name?"
"Come talk to me~ Let's be best friends!"
Amid faint, playful giggles, Hayasaka's gaze grew distant.
Who… is that over there?
She couldn't quite make out the figure's appearance or voice, yet she felt—knew—this was someone she could trust completely.
A friend since her first day at this school.
A dear, dear companion who had her best interests at heart.
So the choice was obvious. All she had to do was—
SMACK!
Kaguya's hand clamped down on Hayasaka's shoulder.
The girl jolted back to awareness.
She had never attended this school.
She had never made such a friend.
These were false memories, utterly fabricated—yet for that brief moment, Hayasaka had believed them unconditionally.
Now, the wall stood empty. No one was there.
"Young Mistress, that was…?"
Hayasaka shrank back, the terror of having her mind rewritten washing over her anew.
"Don't think about it. Don't look. Don't let those things into your head."
After a quick warning, Kaguya checked Hayasaka's condition using her Malice Detection and Normality Perception blessings. Aside from mild disorientation, the maid seemed unharmed.
Meanwhile, Takakai—noticing the disturbance—halted and followed Hayasaka's earlier gaze toward the hidden door.
In his vision, the wall rippled faintly, like water disturbed by a droplet. But upon closer inspection, it showed no change.
An illusion?
No—something new.
Unlike [Kurokko], this entity had targeted Hayasaka exclusively. Neither he nor Kaguya had sensed it.
Does she have a unique trait we lack? Or was she just unlucky?
With no clear answer, their only option was to leave the classroom immediately.
But though they'd sealed a deadly threat, the chain reaction was growing increasingly dire.
Takakai theorized the butcher's absence had lifted restrictions on other entities, allowing them to infiltrate previously safe zones.
As for the KP's involvement? Unlikely. Despite its underhanded tactics, the KP seemed to pride itself on narrative integrity. Tampering mid-dungeon would betray its self-image as a meticulous storyteller.
"Hehe… hahaha…"
Laughter bubbled up around him—from the seated children, their voices overlapping.
"Class, let's begin."
The words spilled from his own mouth.
He stood at the lectern.
The students smiled up at him.
A perfectly ordinary scene.
Yet no matter what he taught…
No matter how he engaged them…
The children only smiled.
Motionless.
Silent.
"Why isn't anyone speaking? Participation is key to learning."
At his prompting, they moved in perfect unison:
"Yes, teacher~"
Their voices harmonized eerily.
Their expressions never wavered.
The teacher felt no joy in this response.
Instead, a chilling realization crept in—these were not children.
Dolls. Machines.
The sunlight streaming through the windows felt hollow.
The normalcy, a grotesque facade.
Why do I feel this way?
Then he noticed:
Their eyes weren't on him.
They stared beside him, smiling at empty air.
"Class, what are you looking at?"
"Teacher, we're looking at our friend—the [Kurokko] next to you."
[Kurokko]?
That's just a childish rumor.
"But there's nothing there."
He turned.
And saw it.
A tangle of red scribbles, a smear of black chaos.
It tilted its head.
Met his gaze.
And smiled.
Takakai blinked.
The classroom snapped back into focus.
A headless teacher stood at the lectern, blood gushing from its neck like a macabre fountain.
Its build, its clothes—
Identical to his own.
BZZZT—
A shrill noise pierced the air as Kaguya found herself lying in wet grass.
She sat up, rubbing her temples. A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes.
When did we separate?
The last thing she recalled was a door creaking open, an irresistible pull forcing her to turn—
Then nothing.
Now, she stood in a walled courtyard, rain drizzling from a slit of gray sky above.
Did the classroom change? Or did we miss a hidden mechanic?
Her eyes caught crayon writing on a nearby wall:
[Student Rule #6]
Do not enter empty classrooms when the "Butcher" is absent from the school building. If already inside, flee to familiar areas immediately. Trust no "friends" encountered here—you have none.
The words were childishly scrawled but earnest.
Then—
Tap.
A footstep behind her.
Something leaned in close, whispering:
"What are you looking at~?"