Kai was on his way to the library when he saw the janitor again — the old man with the limp and the mismatched shoes. Most students ignored him. Teachers treated him like he didn't exist.
But Kai had started noticing patterns.
He always cleaned the third-floor hallway during lunch.Always skipped over Room 3-C.And he always paused outside the faculty restroom, as if listening for something that wasn't there.
Today, their eyes met.
For the first time, the janitor nodded at him.
That afternoon, Kai found a folded note in his locker.
Burnt edges. No handwriting on the outside.
Inside, one sentence:
"The mirrors in the art room don't reflect everything."
No signature. No clue who left it.
He felt a shiver crawl down his neck.
The art room had been closed for months. "Renovations," the sign said. But no one ever came in or out. Windows were covered with black paper.
And it was next to Room 3-C — the one Mayu had always avoided.
After school, he confronted Mr. Hoshino, the literature teacher — one of the few faculty members who still treated him normally.
"Why is the art room sealed off?" Kai asked.
Mr. Hoshino tensed. Just for a second.
"It's unsafe," he said. "There was a structural issue with the ceiling."
"Then why does the school list it as in use on the room roster?"
Silence.
Then, softly, Mr. Hoshino said, "I liked Mayu, too."
Kai's heart skipped. "You remember her?"
Hoshino didn't answer. He just stared out the window.
Then: "Stay away from that side of the building. Especially at dusk."
"Why?"
"If they know you're looking, they'll show you just enough truth to make you doubt everything else."
"And once that happens… no one can bring you back."
That evening, Kai found something strange in the school library's discard pile — a book titled:
"Faculty Conduct Report, Year 1989: Morino High."
The school wasn't even called Morino High anymore.
Inside were several redacted incident logs — mostly mundane. But one stood out:
April 17th – Student vanished after exhibiting signs of 'memory distortion' and 'mirror phobia.' School psychologist recommended expulsion of topic from staff discussion. Witnesses reassigned or dismissed. Room 3-C sealed.
Stamped across the page in red ink:"Containment compromised. Do not engage."
Kai left the library with the book hidden in his bag.
That night, he found another note on his bedroom window.
This time, the handwriting was rushed, shaky — but familiar.
"You're close. Stop digging. They feed on attention.
You can't save anyone once they're inside.
Don't let them know your name."
It was signed:
M.T.
Mayu Tanaka.