Qi Yue’an glanced at her phone screen, where the rules displayed were mostly consistent with what the advisor had said, but there were some discrepancies and contradictions. The screen also required silence, but there were three rules specific to the phone:
1. Do not disobey the instructions of your class advisor; follow the rules.
2. Do not respond to any voices in the darkness.
3. People wearing red clothes are no longer who you know; treat them as if they do not exist.
“Li Yan, please answer my question.”
Suddenly, the classroom lights went out, and the advisor pointed to a name on the blackboard, picking a student. The chosen student shivered, and Qi Yue’an quickly turned her gaze to the advisor, who was now dressed in a pitch-black outfit, resembling a grim reaper emerging from the depths of hell. He stood up hastily, but the advisor on the stage showed no reaction. His mind raced, having just casually discussed trivial matters with his roommate one moment and facing this situation the next. Fortunately, there was a rule on the phone that prohibited disobeying the advisor’s instructions; he hoped he could remember it…
“Oh, yeah, this is…”
As he began to answer, the advisor on the stage suddenly broke into an eerie smile. Literally, her head bloomed like a flower into five petals, then instantly bit into his skull, crunching and chewing it down. It was like a juicy berry, and she devoured the torso and limbs without a single scream, only pausing to lick her lips after everything was gone. Xiao Ru, still human, was terrified and frozen in her seat. Just as she was about to scream, Qi Yue’an roughly covered her mouth. Qi Yue’an began to think intensely, realizing that the “voices in the darkness” likely referred to the condition when the lights were out.
“It seems Li Yan can’t answer, so… let this student respond.”
The advisor’s voice hesitated for a moment, pointing to Qi Yue’an’s position. She stood up, looking at the screen, which showed a presentation on safety, though the content was bizarre with various strange questions.
“I’m sorry, teacher, I don’t know.”
Seeing her confident response, the students who were previously terrified turned to look at her, their faces a mix of disbelief and relief that they weren’t the ones picked. The lights flickered and came back on, and she sat down quietly, with no incidents during the entire process. It seemed that the condition for “not being able to answer questions” was that it had to be in the dark and that her name was called. Since the advisor couldn’t recall her name, they simply said, “this student,” so answering the question was safe. Qi Yue’an forced herself to stay calm, her mind racing as she analyzed the known rules:
1. Obey the advisor’s instructions;
2. Do not respond to any voices in the darkness;
3. Ignore those in red.
And the spoken rules from the advisor: maintain silence, follow the schedule, and do not stare directly at the advisor. The rule “must obey the advisor’s instructions” and “do not respond to voices in the darkness” meant that if the advisor called on someone to answer in the dark, they would be in a fatal situation. “Instructions” were limited to specific actions requested by the advisor, while “do not respond to voices mentioning your name in the darkness” was an absolute rule. However, what was the consequence of disobedience? From Li Yan’s fate, he tried to follow the spoken rule to answer but died for speaking in the dark, indicating that the absolute rule took precedence over general instructions. So, if instructed to respond immediately in the dark, the correct action was to stay silent and wait for the lights to come back on, unless the instruction included a time limit like “immediately.”
Before she could fully grasp the situation, the classroom lights suddenly went out again, plunging everything into darkness, with only the phone screens and projector casting a faint glow. The air was thick with uneasy breaths. The advisor’s icy voice echoed in the darkness, carrying a cat-and-mouse mockery.
“Zhang Tao, answer this: how do you properly dispose of ‘impure glances’?”
The named Zhang Tao froze, the word “immediately” sealing his fate. His body shook with the terror of death gripping his throat. Answering would break the rule against speaking in the dark, while not answering would defy the spoken instruction with “immediately.” He seemed trapped in a deadly corner. In that moment, with everyone’s shocked gazes, a faint, unnatural purple flame appeared mid-air, floating like a ghostly light, illuminating the area behind the advisor. It wasn’t bright enough to dispel the darkness completely, but it created a small, non-dark zone. Zhang Tao, on the brink of collapse, saw this as a lifeline, though faint, it allowed him to judge that the “darkness” condition might be broken. He shouted out the first answer that came to mind.
“Immediately… close, close your eyes! Or… or remove the source of the gaze!”
He waited, heart pounding, for the verdict. The imagined death didn’t come; the advisor’s figure on the stage was blurred, neither approving nor acting against Zhang Tao’s answer. The lights flickered back on, and Zhang Tao slumped into his seat, drenched in cold sweat. He gratefully glanced at the fading flame, unsure of its origin but knowing it might have saved his life. After the experiment, Qi Yue’an understood. “Darkness” was the key environmental condition for the “no response” rule, and answering in the dark would result in death. However, if a light source could be created immediately when instructed to “respond immediately,” it might circumvent the “darkness” rule. This required an extremely fast reaction and the ability to create a light source manually, something almost impossible for ordinary people, but possible for some magical girls. The advisor’s voice returned to its usual monotone, though its gaze seemed to linger on Qi Yue’an. The following “lessons” grew increasingly bizarre, filled with twisted logic and bloody implications. The advisor occasionally asked tricky questions, sometimes in light, sometimes in darkness. Qi Yue’an managed to navigate these dangers, noticing a well-dressed student who remained calm and precise, always adhering to the rules. Once, in the darkness, he managed to light a pen cap, creating a momentary glow before answering confidently. However, he seemed to be subtly watching her, and though she felt familiar with him, she couldn’t remember where she had seen him recently, given the recent strange events. Focusing on the present, Xiao Ru, under Qi Yue’an’s control, gradually recovered from her terror, learning to observe and mimic Qi Yue’an’s actions, barely keeping up. Finally, the “lesson” ended, and the advisor announced, “This is break time. Students may ‘freely move’ within the classroom, but please remember to keep quiet.” Qi Yue’an leaned in, speaking to Xiao Ru in a nearly inaudible voice, “Stay still and don’t move, no matter what you see.” Then, she carefully observed the advisor, who stood by the door, facing away from most of the students, not covering the entire back half of the classroom with her gaze. This was an opportunity; the rule only prohibited movement within the advisor’s sight. Qi Yue’an moved like a ghost, using desks and chairs for cover, silently making her way to the back of the classroom, aiming to find a way out. Her every step was cautious, ensuring no sound and staying out of the advisor’s potential line of sight. Just as she neared her goal, her peripheral vision caught a flash of bright red at the classroom’s back door. Remembering the rule, she froze, controlling her breath, and focused her gaze on the floor, avoiding any glance toward the door. She could feel an icy, inhuman stare piercing through the door, landing on her back. She had to completely ignore it, having no interaction, not even a glance or subconscious alert. As she approached the back door, sudden footsteps echoed in the quiet room. She stopped where her former roommate had sat; they were terrified, and the advisor, at some point, had changed into a red outfit, standing in the center of the stage. “Students, do not attempt to leave the classroom before 11:30; doing so will be considered skipping class.” “Please turn to page thirty-seven of your books.” With that, the lights flickered and went out again. Qi Yue’an was about to turn the page but suddenly remembered the rule about ignoring those in red. The advisor, now in red, was no longer the one to be obeyed. However, it was too late; all the other students had already started flipping through their books. Qi Yue’an couldn’t warn them without breaking the silence rule. The “advisor” in the red suit was no longer the one to be followed. “Rustling…” The sound of pages turning filled the darkness. In their terror and blind obedience to the rules, the faster students almost instantly began following the “red advisor’s” instructions. Qi Yue’an couldn’t speak to warn them, and due to the silence rule, she couldn’t. Instantly, she thought of a solution, and with intense concentration, small flames appeared on the books, burning the pages of the quicker students. After the fire, darkness still enveloped the classroom, but this time, there were no casualties. Qi Yue’an could feel the cold, inhuman gaze from the stage sweeping over the survivors. She kept her head down, following the rule to ignore the red-clad figure, making sure Xiao Ru did the same. Xiao Ru’s body shook like a leaf in the wind, but she managed to stay silent. Time seemed to stand still, each second stretching into eternity. Qi Yue’an could hear her and Xiao Ru’s racing heartbeats. After what felt like minutes, but was perhaps only seconds, the classroom lights suddenly came back on, blindingly bright. Qi Yue’an cautiously used her peripheral vision to scan the room. The stage was empty, the red figure gone. The classroom was in disarray, with scattered book ashes silently telling the story of the recent horror. Two had died, the rest survived. The well-dressed male student slowly stood up, adjusting his perfectly neat collar. His gaze fell on Qi Yue’an again, with a mix of curiosity and… a hint of inexplicable approval? He said nothing, just nodded slightly, then walked confidently toward the back door, as if the recent events were merely an insignificant farce. Qi Yue’an didn’t stop him; her mind was in chaos. She released Xiao Ru, who collapsed into her seat, gasping for air, her face pale. “I-It’s… over?” Xiao Ru’s voice trembled. Qi Yue’an didn’t respond, her focus on the surroundings. The rule-filled nightmare was far from over; the entire school was still shrouded in eerie rules. She checked her phone; the time showed they still had some minutes until 11:30, and the red advisor had said, “Leaving before 11:30 will be considered skipping class,” but this couldn’t be trusted, and it didn’t say they could leave safely after 11:30. Suddenly, a broadcast echoed through the classroom, a cold, emotionless voice unlike the previous advisor. “Survivors, please note that the first phase of the adaptation selection is complete. Follow the map on your phones to the designated dormitory for rest. Wishing you all… academic success.” The broadcast ended, and Qi Yue’an’s phone screen lit up, showing a simple campus map with a flashing red dot indicating the dormitory location and a room number. Dormitory… rest? Qi Yue’an’s heart didn’t ease; instead, it felt heavier. This rule-filled space was pushing the survivors toward the next dangerous, unknown stage. They exited the silent classroom, the hallway empty except for the eerie white lights, and ahead waited a once ordinary, now lavish and ominous dormitory.
****