[Chapter 6 - Conspiracy Theory Club]

Another notification flashed violently.

[SYSTEM RECALCULATION…]

TOTAL STATS:

HP: 320

MP: 150

STR: 25

DEF: 19

AGI: 32

INT: 40

[FINAL SUM: 320 + 150 + 25 + 19 + 32 + 40 = 586]

[WARNING!]

The last digit of your total stats ( 6 ) represents the number of days the last person you spoke to has left before their death.

[Cause of death: Heart Torn from Their Still-Beating Chest.]

[NO REVERSAL OPTIONS AVAILABLE.]

[NO QUESTS TO PREVENT OUTCOME.]

[FATE IS SEALED.]

His face grew pale.

This wasn't a warning. This was a sentence.

Selphonie was gone.

And the world around him… returned to normal.

The students who had been frozen in time started moving again, resuming their conversations, their laughter—as if nothing had ever happened.

Cydal slowly turned his gaze.

The ones who had assisted him… hadn't forgotten.

They stood there, trembling.

They had seen everything.

Cydal raised his hand.

One of the girls flinched, her mind racing through every horrible possibility.

But instead of pain, she felt…

Warmth.

His fingers lightly brushed her cheek.

Soft. Gentle.

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in confusion.

Her face turned red.

"Do you remember what happened?" Cydal asked.

She hesitated, glancing around.

The others from before… They were injured. Slightly bruised. But lost.

They didn't understand.

Their memories… were gone?!

Cydal had erased them.

One by one, they ran.

Fleeing from him.

Cydal lowered his hand.

Finally…

He could enter the school.

But far above—something had been watching.

A presence.

A figure.

A woman.

Her body glowed, fluid like liquid light, shifting and pulsing in the air.

She didn't speak.

She only watched.

Her eyes never left Cydal as he walked through the school doors..

Later

Location: Conspiracy theory clubroom

Randa stood still, her eyes blank, as if her soul had wandered elsewhere. Her short black hair was tied with a beautiful silk ribbon, framing her glowing skin. But it was her blue eyes that stood out the most—they shimmered, almost illuminating the dimly lit room around her.

The room… this wasn't her classroom. It was old, dimly lit, and packed with an unsettling assortment of objects. Grimoires stacked high, their ancient covers covered in dust and strange symbols. Talismans and charms hung from the walls, swaying ever so slightly, as if disturbed by an unseen presence. Statues of deities—some familiar, others foreign and eerie—stood solemnly in the corners, watching in silence.

Around her, several girls stood watching. All of them were wearing their school uniforms, the fabric stiff under the dim light.

Some looked annoyed. Others… concerned.

A girl in front of her, taller, her presence commanding, crossed her arms and huffed.

"Oi, Randa! Hey?"

No response.

"Randa?"

Still nothing.

"RANDA!"

Another girl's voice, this time sharper, irritated.

"EARTH TO RANDA, ARE YOU STILL ON THIS PLANET?!"

She groaned, waving her hands wildly in front of Randa's face, snapping her fingers with exaggerated frustration. "Ugh, can you believe this girl?" she muttered, turning to the others.

Then—snap.

Randa jolted, eyes wide as if waking from a deep trance. She gasped, looking around frantically.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Her friend screamed for her attention.

Randa barely registered the voices around her until they closed in, pressing her from all sides. The weight of their stares pulled her from the fog of her own mind, and she blinked, finding herself trapped in the circle of her friends.

Again.

"You're always spacing out," Lal murmured, crossing her arms. The lantern light of the school hallway cast a warm sheen over her tanned skin, and her golden blonde hair caught the glow like a smoldering ember. "Come on, sweetie, you know better than to tune out when Shari's talking. She gets upset when her audience isn't paying attention."

With a slow sigh, Lal turned away, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Then again, I can't really blame you. I tend to fall asleep when she tells a story too."

A sharp inhale. A tension in the air.

Shari heard that.

The tallest among them—Shari didn't just win that title. She held the record for the longest hair in the entire school, flowing like dark silk, moving as gracefully as she did. And though she carried herself like royalty, her presence was as terrifying as it was elegant.

She exhaled through her nose, glaring. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Her voice cut like a blade before shifting to a dramatic plea. "Let me finish, and this time, Randa—please, don't leave this earth." She snapped her gaze around, searching. "And where the hell are Kowa and Longs?"

She turned to Lal, accusingly. "Your boyfriend Isaac, at least, has an excuse. He's in the fields. But those two—!" She clenched her fists. "They're ignoring me when I practically gave them an invitation? Unacceptable! I'm going to hang them for this!!"

A nervous chuckle rippled through the group. Shari could be funny, sure. But she was also... serious.

Still, nothing stopped her once she started.

With a slow, deliberate step, she climbed onto the desk, towering over them, the dim light casting her in shadow. There was a reverence in the way she stood, as if she wasn't just about to tell a story—she was about to deliver a prophecy.

And then, in a voice lower, richer, full of something ancient and haunting—

"It was decades ago," she began, her words curling like smoke, "when two deities descended from the heavens, locked in a battle for the fate of the Earth.

Mountains trembled. Oceans raged. The people of this town—our ancestors—were caught in the storm of their war, their lives nothing more than dust beneath the feet of gods."

A hush fell over the group. Someone swallowed hard.

"It is said," Shari continued, her eyes burning with something beyond amusement now, "that the deities were none other than the Devil of Death and the Goddess of Creation. The Goddess, in all her grace, fought to protect us. But she was overwhelmed. The Devil was too strong."

A breath. A pause. The world felt smaller, caving in around them.

Randa, gripping her sleeves, finally found her voice.

"Then... what happened?"

Shari grinned, slow and wicked. "The devil won."

A chorus of groans erupted from the group.

"What?!"

Shari held up a hand, undeterred. "But!" she continued, stretching the word with theatrical weight. "The Goddess—selfless, noble—sacrificed herself for this town. She lost her life, yes... but she took the Devil down with her." She sniffled dramatically, wiping away an imaginary tear.

"But!" Her voice sharpened again. "The Devil was resilient. Even in his final moments, he refused to die alone. With the last of his power, he ripped open a gateway to his world of dead, binding it to Earth. A door he could cross through whenever he pleased."

A hush fell. Even the flickering lamplight in the dim clubroom seemed to hesitate.

"But to his disappointment," she continued, lowering her voice, drawing them in, "he was already dead." His spirit could only wander a small radius around his cursed gate. Trapped. But he was cunning. He wouldn't let the Goddess return. She thrived in life, in light—so he smothered it.

Black clouds swallowed the sky. The sun vanished. The rain stopped. The earth withered. Oceans rotted. Entire forests crumbled into dust.

"Survival became... hell."

A breath. A silence. Then—

Randa swallowed hard. "Then what happened to the Devil?"

Shari's eyes gleamed.

"The town's misery fed him. He grew stronger. Strong enough to build a castle over his Hell's Gate. And any unfortunate villager who wandered too close—*" she let the moment stretch, "never returned."

Gasps. Wide eyes. The clubroom had become its own little world, hanging on her every word.

"But," she continued, "the villagers fought back. They burned his castle. They killed him."

She raised her hands, turning in slow, dramatic circles. "And this school—" her voice dropped to a whisper, "was built right where his castle once stood."

Goosebumps. Someone shivered.

"And some say," she leaned forward, voice barely above a breath, "his gate still exists... somewhere in this school. That's why teachers and students vanish without a trace. That's why you should never walk the halls alone."

She paused. Then, without warning—

Shari lunged, pulling a terrifying mask over her face.

"WHO KNOWS?" she shrieked. "HIS NEXT TARGET COULD BE YOU!"

Chaos. Screams. Randa and another girl clung to each other, shrieking in terror.

Lal sighed, unimpressed. "Oh, come on," she muttered. "This is just a bedtime story. My grandma used to tell me this when I was little. And," she smirked, "her storytelling was better."

Shari gasped, clutching her chest as if mortally wounded. "Blasphemy!"

"If this really didn't happen, then how do you explain all those missing teachers and students?"

Lal shrugged. "Made up! This school was built against the town's wishes. They didn't want progress, so they made up stories to scare students away."

"But," Shari pressed, "what about those bodies? The ones found hanging from the ceilings, cut in half, their insides spilling out? That one was too detailed to be made up by the villagers!"

The room tensed again.

Lal's expression flickered. But she didn't back down. "Lies. This town is stuck in the past. They make up horror stories to stop kids from getting an education."

Then—

A BANG.

The door slammed open.

"You guys—"

A voice—loud, brash, like a storm through a quiet night.

It was Longs. And he was grinning.

"You're not gonna believe this!"

Behind him, another figure lingered in the doorway. Tall. Silent. Uninterested.

Cydal.

The moment the girls' eyes landed on him, they froze. Stiffened. As if a monster had just walked into the room.

Not Randa, though. Randa smiled. Warm. Welcoming.

Cydal didn't seem to notice. His one visible red eye narrowed at Longs. "I thought you said everyone here was friendly."

Longs scratched the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly. "They are... to people they know."

Cydal sighed. "Disappointing."

"ANYWAY—" Longs clapped his hands together. "You guys won't believe this! I think we've got a new adventure ahead of us."

The girls eyed him warily. "What kind of adventure?"

"He—" Longs jabbed a thumb at Cydal, "—wants to explore the catacombs. And you guys always talked about finding them, right? So why not join us?"

The girls looked at each other, thinking for a moment..

There was silence.

Then—

"No thanks!"

Lal and the other girls took a step back.

Longs blinked. "What? You guys always wanted to—"

Shari, of all people, scoffed. "Oh, please. It's just a rumor. There's no such thing, I lied to make our club look interesting."

Longs stared at her, betrayed.

Then—another voice.

"You guys..."

It was Isaac. He stood in the doorway. But he wasn't grinning.

His face was pale. His hands clenched.

"You're not going to believe what I just heard."

The air shifted.

"What?"

Isaac hesitated. Then—

"I was in the fields just a while back when we were informed about giselle's older sister... she's dead."

The silence was a living thing.

Eyes widened. Breaths caught.

"What?! How?!"

Isaac's voice was steady, but his fingers trembled.

"The villagers... they think she was murdered." He exhaled. "Her mother says she never made it home last night."

A beat.

Then he spoke the words that sent ice down their spines.

"They found her body in the basement of this school."

A sharp, collective inhale.

"Nobody knows this in the school yet, so keep it down until it's announced, but they're holding her funeral here today to honor her."

The clubroom was deathly still.

Then—whispers. Uneasy, restless. Some pitied the girl. Others... looked almost relieved.

Randa's eyes shimmered with grief.

And then—

Lal. Cold. Unmoved. "Honestly?" she said, voice eerily calm. "It's for the best."

Everyone turned.

"She was trouble. Always causing misery to every defenceless student. I say... good riddance."

"Lal!" Randa's voice cracked, disbelief thick in her throat. "How can you say that?! She was murdered! She must've been terrified!"

Lal scoffed. "So what, you of all people should be relieved. Lal watches Randa carefully, her voice firm yet laced with concern. "You're a good girl, Randa. Too good. But people like her? They're garbage. I could never forgive what she did to you yesterday."

Her eyes darken at the memory. "She gathered her goons, cornered you like a pack of wolves, and tried to—" She exhales sharply, shaking her head. "If no one had stepped in, who knows what would've happened?"

She leans in slightly, searching Randa's face. "Weren't you scared?"

Randa lowers her gaze, fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeves. "Of course, I was scared." Her voice is quiet, yet heavy. "I was terrified."

"Then why are you mourning her? She was a monster, Randa. If she had her way, she would've ruined you."

Randa clenches her fists. "I know that! But…" Her voice shakes, full of frustration and sadness. "That doesn't mean she deserved to die."

"What she did was terrible but It doesn't give us the right to decide who lives or dies!"

"It doesn't matter if you're good or bad death is always terrifying"

Tension. Thick. Suffocating.

No one spoke.

No one could.

Then—

"Anywaaay..."

Longs' casual, goofy voice cut through the dread like a knife.

Everyone turned.

A grin pulled at his lips. "Where's Kowa?"

To be continued.