Where Did the Brick Come From in the Classroom?

Zhang Wei stood frozen in place, his eyes wide and fixed on the dark red character “死” (death) on the door panel.

The young man’s earlier calm vanished.

His voice trembled.

“W-What is this?!”

Li Qiao and the middle-aged man beside him saw the character too.

Their faces turned pale, and they instinctively stepped back half a step.

Zhao Na was trembling all over.

She huddled tightly behind Bai Shuang, her small hand clamped over her mouth to hold back a sob.

But before anyone could recover from the shock and fear, the “死” on the door suddenly moved.

It twisted like a living thing.

The dark red strokes split and extended, crawling across the door like animated vines.

Then, one after another, more “死” characters appeared, large and small, crooked and slanted, covering the entire door in a dense, eerie pattern.

It was like some kind of character plague spreading wildly, suffocating and oppressive.

“Wh-What’s going on?!”

Li Qiao’s voice was filled with uncontrollable fear.

She backed away, almost tripping.

The middle-aged man hugged his bag tightly, as if it were his only anchor.

His face was ashen, lips trembling.

“I… I don’t know… what’s happening…”

Unlike the panic around her, Bai Shuang stood steady.

Her crimson eyes remained calm, scanning between the spreading “死” characters and the classroom, noting every detail.

Suddenly, the bizarre characters accelerated.

They climbed up the door frame, spread to the walls, and surged into the classroom like a tide.

Soon, half the classroom’s walls and floor were covered in dense, dark red “死” characters.

The air grew colder.

Then Bai Shuang seemed to remember something.

Her gaze shifted to the podium at the front of the room.

Earlier, while observing, she had noticed an object on the podium.

If this was a writing classroom… then that object shouldn’t be here.

‘If my guess is wrong, maybe I can legitimately draw a weapon and fight.’

With that thought, Bai Shuang moved quickly but steadily toward the podium.

In the corner of the podium sat a black, rectangular object.

Without hesitation, Bai Shuang bent down, grabbed it, turned, and threw it hard toward the door covered in “死” characters.

A dull thud.

The object struck the center of the dense characters.

The moment it hit, something strange happened.

The “死” touched by the black object began to fade, visibly, until they vanished completely.

The fading spread.

The characters on the door, walls, and floor disappeared one after another.

In just a few seconds, all the dark red “死” characters that had filled the classroom were gone, as if they had never existed.

The cold air dissipated too.

With the crisis resolved, a faint look of disappointment crossed Bai Shuang’s face.

‘I guessed right?’

‘If my guess had been wrong, if those characters hadn’t faded, I might have found an excuse to take out a weapon and fight.’

‘After all, throwing that black thing was just to test my hypothesis.’

‘If I’d known it would end like this, maybe I shouldn’t have acted so fast…’

‘Shouldn’t have. Really shouldn’t have.’

Unlike Bai Shuang’s regret, Zhang Wei, Li Qiao, and the middle-aged man hadn’t fully recovered from the eerie scene.

They held their breath, nerves taut, scanning the walls, floor, and door.

Only after confirming no more anomalies did they exhale in relief, their tense bodies slumping.

Zhang Wei’s legs were still trembling.

He steadied himself by a desk, crouched down slowly, and picked up the cracked black object.

He examined it closely.

It was smooth, slightly worn at the edges, and cracked, but its original shape was clear.

It was an inkstone.

Seeing it, Zhang Wei’s mind flashed with insight.

He quickly pieced it together.

From the start, that girl had noticed the inkstone on the podium.

Then she deduced this was a writing classroom.

But an inkstone was calligraphy equipment.

Why would it be in a writing classroom?

Only two possibilities: either someone liked writing essays with a brush, or there was another reason.

He followed that logic and immediately ruled out the first.

The eerie “死” characters on the door were clearly written with a brush.

Combined with the diary’s contents, he formed a bold guess.

If a ghost was responsible, it was likely the deceased Qian Shi.

After all, Qian Shi studied calligraphy.

Using a brush fit his identity.

Thinking back to the diary’s mention of the murder weapon, Zhang Wei grew more certain.

In a calligraphy classroom, an inkstone matched the description: “pitch black, usable as a blunt weapon to strike someone.”

According to some legends, ghosts fear the object that killed them.

Throwing the inkstone made the “死” characters fade instantly.

After sorting it out, Zhang Wei couldn’t help but look at Bai Shuang with admiration.

In such a critical moment, that female student had processed so much key information in a short time, then taken decisive action, saving all of them.

At that thought, Zhang Wei felt a deep respect for Bai Shuang.

Meanwhile, Li Qiao rubbed her palms together and said urgently, “Now that the danger’s gone, should we take this chance to check other classrooms?”

Neither Zhang Wei nor the middle-aged man objected.

They nodded in agreement.

They stood up slowly, stretching their stiff bodies, and walked out of the classroom.

Li Qiao walked beside Zhao Na and kindly took her hand.

Bai Shuang thought a bit higher of her for that.

‘A gyaru, but she’s actually nice.’

Bai Shuang lagged behind, swept her gaze across the empty classroom, confirmed something, and closed the door.

After everyone left, the classroom fell silent.

Soon, a faint rustling sound, like fabric scraping the floor, echoed in the empty room.

Then the rustling stopped, replaced by a soft, mournful sobbing, thin and weak, but eerily sad in the empty space.