Darkness.
Then a sharp pain in every joint of my body.
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Then a sound… distant and muffled at first, gradually becoming clearer.
Faint sirens, hurried footsteps, anxious murmurs.
"Mm… ugh…"
I forced my eyes open, the light burning my retinas.
It wasn't the golden glow of sunlight.
It wasn't the dim yellow of the elevator.
It was the harsh white glare of training ground floodlights.
I was lying on the cold, hard ground in front of the stone arch of Gate 23.
Around me, the rest of my team looked no better.
Leo was unconscious—or close to it. His face was pale, and his injured arm was bleeding heavily despite the cloth still wrapped around it.
Noor was on her knees, breathing heavily, her eyes staring blankly into space.
Sam leaned against one of the gate's pillars, trying to steady his glasses with a trembling hand.
Above us stood Professor Aurora Phoenix, accompanied by a team of medics rushing toward us.
"Medical team, we have an injured student!" Aurora's sharp, cold voice rang out, cutting through the fog in my mind.
"Check the others for internal injuries or psychological shock."
Thud, thud, thud. Their footsteps echoed loudly.
The medics rushed to Leo, immediately tending to his severe wound, while others began examining me, Noor, and Sam.
We… we made it out, I thought, staring at the ceiling.
That button… the dove button… it really brought us back.
So the symbol wasn't meaningless after all. It truly granted us freedom.
I felt a hand grip my shoulder.
Aurora.
She leaned slightly closer, her cold ruby eyes studying me carefully.
"Lister," she said in her neutral tone. "Your report. Now. What happened inside that gate?"
I swallowed, my throat dry.
What was I supposed to say?
Should I tell her about an endless hotel, a moody elevator, a flesh corridor, a gray monstrosity, crawling hands, blood-weeping paintings, and a ghost girl who killed her parents before shooting her mother—before throwing me out of a painted world?
Yes, that will sound perfectly reasonable, I thought bitterly.
She'll send me straight back to the 'secure facility'—and this time, I won't be coming out.
"It was… complicated, Professor," I said hoarsely, avoiding her gaze.
"The gate… it was about an abandoned hotel. A broken elevator. We had to solve some puzzles to activate it. Then… a hostile entity appeared unexpectedly. We engaged it."
"You engaged it?" Aurora repeated, her eyes shifting to Leo as he was carried away on a stretcher.
"That 'engagement' nearly cost von Falkenhayn his arm."
"He was protecting Noor," I muttered, guilt prickling inside me. "He was… brave."
"Well, deduct one point. Courage alone is not enough for survival, or far fewer would die in vain," she said coldly.
"Tactics and proper risk assessment matter more. Still… it seems you managed to find an 'emergency exit' and complete the mission."
Emergency exit? You mean that damned dove button?
"Yes, Professor," I said simply.
The less I spoke, the fewer lies I'd have to remember.
Aurora straightened and looked over the rest of the team.
Noor had already gotten up and was moving toward Leo.
Sam still stared into nothingness.
Then she looked back at me.
"You exceeded the time limit by thirty minutes. One team member sustained severe injury. And you failed to properly assess the initial threat."
My heart sank.
Here comes the official failure.
"But," she continued in the same cold tone,
"you faced a threat far beyond the scenario's description. You functioned as a team. You lost no member permanently. And most importantly… you made it out."
She glanced at her tablet.
"Based on that… my evaluation of Team Delta is: acceptable performance, with negative remarks."
Acceptable?
I almost laughed.
We nearly died multiple times. I got swallowed by a painting. Someone was mauled by a monster. Our team was on the verge of mental collapse…
And that's acceptable?
What high standards this academy has.
"Now," she said, gesturing to the waiting medics,
"go with them. They will examine you for contamination or internal trauma. After that… I want a detailed report from each of you. Every detail. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, exhaustion washing over me.
As the medics led me away, I glanced back at the [Lobby Elevator] gate.
It still glowed faintly blue… as if nothing had happened.
An E-rank gate… how ironic.
If this was the level of horror in E-rank gates, I didn't want to imagine what higher ranks held.
No matter what… I had to become stronger.
Not physically—mentally.
I had to stay one step ahead of these cursed stories…
Or next time, there might not be a dove button to save me.
---
---
---
And so time passed…
The days following our escape from the hell of [Lobby Elevator] were hazy and fragmented—just like the memories we tried to forget or understand.
We were, without a doubt, the most damaged team that day.
From what I heard—or rather, what Aurora told me—the Lobby Elevator consisted of countless floors. The condition for escape was simply to visit two floors and exit.
According to the records, no one before us had encountered floors like the ones we did. They passed through without incident.
Which made me wonder…
Was this the curse of narrative?
Having a "main character" in your team—a blessing and a curse at the same time?
Because of that, we were temporarily excused from all training and lectures, placed under what the academy called a "recovery period."
A polite name for being lab rats in slightly more comfortable cages.
I spent most of my time in my luxurious suite—which now felt less like luxury and more like a comfortable prison cell.
I slept a lot.
Restless sleep, filled with nightmares—flesh corridors, bleeding paintings, and twisted smiles of children.
When awake, I stared at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over.
What the hell was that place?
And why me?
No answers. Only more questions.
And a growing sense that my "maneuver" with Dean Hargrove had put me in an even more dangerous position.
I wasn't just a weak, suspicious student anymore…
I was now "the guy receiving love letters from a creepy masked entity."
What a fantastic addition to my résumé.
As for Team Delta…
Things between us were… strange.
Leo von Falkenhayn was transferred to the advanced medical wing immediately after our return.
His injury was severe. The pale creature's claws had torn through muscle and tendon, nearly reaching the bone.
Doctors said he might need a special treatment dose. Modern medicine alone wouldn't be enough for a quick recovery.
Every time I thought about it, guilt stabbed at me.
He got hurt protecting Noor.
He had been the real driving force in that nightmare.
While I stood frozen like an idiot.
The real leader had been him—not me and my "instincts."
I didn't visit him.
What would I even say?
"Sorry my stupid idea led us into a flesh corridor"?
Silence and sarcasm were easier.
As for Noor Akim and Sam Owens…
I saw them once or twice in the dorm corridors.
They were always together—as if they found comfort in each other's silence and trauma.
The first time Noor met my eyes, she instinctively stepped back, her face pale.
She wasn't the cheerful, talkative girl anymore.
"Adam…" she started, then stopped, biting her lip.
"A-are you… okay?"
"Perfectly fine," I said with a sarcastic smile that didn't reach my eyes.
"Just a few nightmares about crawling hands and haunted hotels. Nothing unusual."
She looked at me with concern.
"How is Leo?"
So she's still thinking about that, I noted.
"I don't know… but I heard he'll be out soon."
She didn't seem convinced, but she nodded and left with Sam—who didn't look at me at all.
They're afraid of me, I realized.
Not because they thought I was insane…
But because they saw something they couldn't explain.
A painting swallowing me… then me returning, furious, talking about a "little whore."
They didn't know what to believe.
And that made me… unpredictable. Untrustworthy.
Which, disgustingly enough, might be the best thing that's happened to me so far.
The only thing breaking this uneasy calm was my "icy warden."
Knock!
A sharp, familiar knock made me jump. I didn't need to ask who it was.
"Come in, Professor," I said tiredly.
Aurora Phoenix entered, her face the same unreadable mask of ice.
A tablet in her hand.
"Lister," she said without preamble. "Your report. Now. Every detail—no matter how strange or illogical. I want to know what happened on the 'flesh floor,' and exactly what you did in the 'memory room' where you disappeared."
I sighed.
Here we go again.
I sat at my desk. She stood before me like an interrogator questioning a criminal.
I began recounting a modified version of events—one that preserved important secrets while sounding logical.
I described the pale entity as punishment for our mistake.
The crawling hands.
The puzzle that led us to the control lever.
"Then," I said,
"when I was pulled into that painting… I found myself in a dark, empty room. There was nothing… just a sense of despair and isolation. I think I… blacked out or hallucinated. When I came to, I was thrown back into the corridor. That's all I remember."
A good lie, I thought.
Simple. Direct. Makes me look like a victim.
Aurora listened silently, her eyes scanning me for cracks.
"That doesn't explain the angry outburst your teammates reported," she said coldly.
I gave a faint smile.
"Professor, I was trapped inside a haunted painting after nearly being killed by a giant gray monster. I think I'm allowed a few inappropriate words."
"…."
She didn't respond—just typed notes into her tablet.
"And Dean Hargrove informed me of your warning regarding the 'Masked Lord.' Any developments? Any whispers? Messages?"
Her tone carried clear sarcasm.
She still didn't believe me.
"Nothing so far, Professor," I said with practiced seriousness.
She stared at me for a long moment, then turned to leave.
"Continue your physical training. I expect noticeable improvement in your endurance. And I'll be waiting for your next report. Don't disappoint me."
Bang.
The door closed behind her.
I exhaled deeply.
Surviving her interrogations is harder than surviving some gates.
The week passed like this.
Brutal solo training with Aurora.
Boring "psychological evaluations."
Suspicious glances from other students.
I had officially become the "special case" of Class Alpha—
A puzzle everyone wanted to solve…
Or avoid.
Fine, I told myself at the end of the week, staring at the ceiling.
The more mysterious I am… the less they expect.
That might be my only way to survive.
I looked at myself bitterly.
I'm truly… pathetically weak.
That island… is going to be hell for me.