After Professor Phoenix's lecture ended—leaving all of us in a state of anticipation—the rest of the day's classes passed in a haze of distraction.
Even during [Modern Horror History], taught by an old professor with a strange obsession with disasters, I couldn't focus.
All that occupied my mind was "Arcadia Island."
In the original novel, Team Alpha won as expected. However, the other Alpha team lost—meaning each class would be split into two teams. Because of that, several classes formed alliances to bring Alpha down and prove they were superior.
Of course, the team that included Serena, Ethan, Kai, Drake, and the others… defeated them.
But the other team… fell into a trap set by the remaining classes.
And as for me—I had no idea what would happen to me there. Adam… the one surrounded by rumors, the one who challenged an A-rank Horror Story and won—though no one knew how I had won…
People would split into two groups. Those who would fear me and stay silent from a distance… and those who would walk straight toward me—either to confirm the rumors or expose me as a fraud.
Either way, I was in trouble.
And now, I was walking straight toward it… after my three-day reprieve.
Running away would be difficult. The dean likely wouldn't believe me, and Aurora would simply deny everything.
'No point worrying now,' I thought, trying to push away the dark thoughts. 'I have three days. I need to use them to gather as much information as possible.'
My plan was simple: return to the library and search for anything related to "Arcadia Island" or incidents that occurred in isolated training facilities.
After the final class ended, the students headed toward the training grounds as usual. We were supposed to have Professor Phoenix's practical training session.
My muscles were still screaming from yesterday's session as I drifted through my thoughts.
Ding—!
Every student's cardinal device chimed.
[Notification from Professor Aurora Phoenix]
[Subject: Evening Training Cancelled]
[Due to an emergency, today's practical training session has been canceled. It will be rescheduled. All students are to return to their dorms.]
[A. Phoenix]
Whispers spread instantly among the students.
"An emergency?"
"That's never happened before. Professor Phoenix never cancels training."
"Did something serious happen?"
I stared at the message, a sense of unease prickling at me. Professor Phoenix wasn't the type to be affected by "emergencies."
It had to be something significant. Something involving an organization? Or perhaps something related to her family.
That was the downside of coming from a prestigious lineage.
Though, to be fair… many Alpha students came from powerful families—except for a few.
Still, on the other hand… this meant I had extra time.
I didn't hesitate.
While the other students gathered in groups, whispering and speculating, I quietly turned away and headed straight for the library.
'Punishment and reward in one place.'
I spent the next few hours buried in records. I could have searched online, but reading from physical books had a certain cultured appeal—it fed my pride.
I searched for "Arcadia," but the results were disappointing.
All the information was vague and superficial. "A state-of-the-art training facility under the Union," "an excellent safety record."
'An excellent safety record?' I thought. 'Then why did the Union abandon it and leave it deserted?'
I found nothing suspicious—which, in itself, was suspicious.
It felt as though the important information had been deliberately erased or concealed.
When the library closed, I returned to the dorms, feeling like I had accomplished nothing except increasing my anxiety.
[707] I glanced at my room number.
My dorm room was… absurdly luxurious.
It was larger than my entire apartment in my previous world.
Every time I looked at it, I felt an almost ridiculous sense of wealth.
A large king-sized bed, a private bathroom, a wide window overlooking the academy's green grounds.
This was the reward for being in Class Alpha… though I still wondered how Adam had entered this class.
The academy loved rewarding its "heroes"… or at least, those it believed to be exceptionally talented heroes.
For me, this room was nothing more than a gilded cage.
I was exhausted. Not physically—but mentally. The constant thinking, analyzing, and worrying about a future I knew could deviate at any moment… it drained me.
I didn't even bother going to the cafeteria for dinner. I threw myself onto the bed, only removing my shoes and loosening a few buttons on my shirt.
I fell asleep instantly—plunging into a deep abyss of darkness.
…
..
.
Creeeak…!
The slow sound of a door opening.
Thud… thud… thud… soft footsteps on old wooden flooring.
"…alone… in the sky… hum…"
A voice.
A humming sound… a children's song—slow and distorted, like an old tape playing in reverse.
I opened my eyes.
I wasn't in my room.
I was standing in a long, dark corridor. The faded floral wallpaper peeled from the walls.
The only light came from a massive window at the far end, where an unnaturally large full moon cast silver light across the hallway.
Doors lined both sides. All closed.
Cold crept into me—not the cold of temperature, but something that seeped into the bones.
The smell of dust and mold filled the air. The wooden floor beneath my feet felt rough.
"…silver mask… strange…"
The humming was getting closer.
I turned stiffly.
At the far end of the corridor stood a little girl in an old white dress. Her face was hidden behind long black hair.
She was the one humming.
A chill ran through me. My spine stiffened, my chest muscles trembling faintly as sweat gathered in my palms.
I wanted to run—but my feet were glued to the floor.
I wanted to scream—but no sound came out.
The girl began walking toward me.
Slowly.
Thud… thud…
Step by step…
With each step, the humming grew louder—more distorted.
And with each step… the doors along the corridor began to tremble.
Shhhhk…!
A scraping sound.
Clack—clack—clack!
Soft knocking echoed from behind the doors.
As if something… or things… were trapped inside—trying to get out.
The girl kept approaching.
She slowly raised her head.
There was no face beneath her hair.
Only… a void. A black emptiness that swallowed light.
In that moment of terror—
CREEEAK!!
One of the doors burst open.
A pale, rotting hand shot out, trying to grab me.
'W-What is this?!'
I stumbled backward—only to crash into something.
I turned.
The door behind me had opened. A tall masked man stepped out, smiling—his grin split from ear to ear, his teeth like sharp needles.
The other doors began opening—one after another—releasing different nightmares.
A tall, gray entity, its back bent at an unnatural 180-degree angle, its spine scraping the ceiling.
Paintings with twisted faces.
They all moved toward me. Slowly.
Surrounding me.
And the faceless girl stood at the center—still humming.
"—HAAAH!!"
I gasped—
"HUFF—HUFF—HUFF!!"
I was breathing heavily. My body drenched in cold sweat.
I looked around in confusion.
"…ha…"
I was in my room. In my bed. Safe.
But the terror still clung to me.
I looked toward the window.
The moon was full—its silver light flooding the room.
My breathing was still uneven, my heartbeat pounding in my ears like war drums.
'It was just a nightmare,' I told myself. A fragile mantra. 'Just a mix of bad memories.'
I forced myself to sit on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath.
Then I looked at the moon again.
And… something changed.
Whoosh.
The color shifted.
Slowly—like blood spreading through water—the silver light turned into a sickly crimson glow.
The moon… turned red.
Red like fresh blood.
It wasn't just a color.
It was a feeling.
The cold corridor returned.
The humming echoed again.
And then—
An image flashed in my mind. Sharp. Clear. Like shattered glass.
Not from the nightmare.
From a deeper memory. One I had tried to bury.
A hotel lobby elevator.
A black gun pointed at me.
And a corpse—my father's corpse—lying on the ground, his glassy eyes staring into nothingness.
"AAAGH!"
A painful groan escaped me as I clutched my head.
A sharp headache exploded behind my eyes—like a burning needle driven into my brain.
I shut my eyes tightly.
When I opened them again…
Everything was normal.
The moon was silver once more. No trace of red.
'W-Was I hallucinating?'
But my body didn't believe that.
Nausea surged through me.
The metallic scent of blood… the image of dead eyes…
Too real.
"…ugh…"
I couldn't hold it.
I jumped out of bed, rushed to the bathroom, and dropped to my knees before the toilet.
"—URGH!!"
I vomited.
There was nothing in my stomach—just bitter, acidic fluid burning my throat.
"HUFF… HUFF…"
I stayed like that for minutes, trembling, drenched in sweat, breathing like I'd run a marathon.
When the nausea finally subsided, I sat on the cold bathroom floor, leaning against the wall.
Shivering.
'What the hell is this…?'
Fragments of past incidents resurfaced—events I had been forced into without choice.
The Carnival of Stolen Faces… the lobby elevator…
I had been there. I had seen death. I had felt fear.
Scars no one could see—but I felt them every night.
'I'm not okay.'
That was the truth I had been avoiding.
"Mom…"
I wasn't the calm, mysterious person Kai or Toro thought I was.
Slowly… a heavy lump formed in my throat.
Warm tears gathered in my eyes.
"M-Mom…"
"I… I miss you."
My voice barely came out.
I was just… afraid.
Someone who had seen too much—and desperately tried to pretend none of it had affected him.
I stayed there for what felt like an eternity.
Eventually, I stood up slowly, leaning against the sink.
I looked at my reflection.
Pale face. Red eyes. Faint dark circles forming beneath them.
I rinsed my mouth several times, washed my face with cold water.
I didn't have the energy to shower.
I returned to my room and sat on the bed.
Sleep was gone. Fear and adrenaline had wiped it out completely.
The silence I had sought… had turned into something oppressive. A silence that gave thoughts too much room to grow.
'The red moon… the corpse… the carnival…'
Just fragments—but enough to shatter my calm mask.
This… would be my weakness.
Not my F-rank body. Not my inactive mana.
My real weakness… was that I remembered.
I remembered the stories that would happen.
And while that knowledge was my greatest weapon—
It was also my greatest curse.
Everyone else faced horror as something new and unknown.
But me…
I lived it before it happened.
Then lived it again when it happened.
Then lived it a third time in my nightmares.
I sighed and stood up.
No point trying to sleep.
Instead, I headed to the small kitchen.
'If I'm staying up all night… I might as well have some good company.'
And by "good company"… I meant bitter black coffee.
I prepared it mechanically.
Cheap coffee powder. Water. The irritating hum of the machine.
As I waited… I thought.
About the original story.
'Arcadia Island…'
In the novel, this test was the first major event that gathered all the main characters in one place—forcing them to compete against each other.
There were no high-ranking horrors. No disasters.
Just… a war between students.
And that was what made it dangerous for me.
In a "Horror Story," I could use my knowledge—secrets, weaknesses, hiding tactics.
But here?
No secrets. No entities to manipulate.
The enemies were humans. Intelligent. Strong. Unpredictable.
And I would definitely be a target.
With this weak body… this inactive mana…
How would I survive a week on an island full of people like Rex Barnes—who wouldn't hesitate to "accidentally" break my leg?
Or Serena Valerian—who still held a grudge against me?
Or even the other classes—who only knew me through rumors?
How would I gather points… or even survive… when every other team was an enemy?
'Knowledge… isn't enough here.'
It gave me insight into their abilities and personalities—but it wouldn't help me when I stood face-to-face with Drake's fist or Ethan's blade.
In this test, being a skilled reader meant nothing.
I was just an F-rank student… trapped on an island full of sharks.
The coffee finished dripping.
I poured myself a hot black cup and sat by the window, letting the cold night air in.
I sipped slowly, watching the full moon—now silver again.
'This world… is built on fear.'
"Horror Stories" weren't just creatures from another dimension. They were born from collective human consciousness.
Children's fear of the dark… accumulating over years… reaching critical mass—then erupting into reality as a Narrative Tear.
Urban legends… spreading like wildfire… becoming real.
"Jack the Ripper" in London—manifesting from the people's fear of an unknown killer.
Even folklore—Baba Yaga, the Slender Man—became real because humanity gave them power through belief and fear.
We create our own monsters.
'So… what is humanity's greatest fear right now?'
The unknown? Death?
Or something more modern?
Loneliness? Worthlessness?
Technology we don't understand?
All of these were seeds—waiting to bloom into nightmares.
'That explains the power of certain abilities…'
Maya's [Sensory Empathy] was strong because it manipulated the very fuel of this world: emotions.
Then I thought about my own ability.
[Architect of Narrative Blueprint]
I didn't manipulate emotions or illusions.
I… read the "script."
If this world was built on stories, then my ability let me see the rules that shaped them.
That was why I wasn't part of them.
I stood outside—observing.
That was both my immunity… and my weakness.
A story couldn't directly affect its reader—
But the reader also couldn't change the words on the page.
'Unless…'
A dangerous idea formed.
'Unless the reader starts writing notes in the margins.'
What I did in the Twisted Carnival… and the Lobby Elevator…
I hadn't just observed.
I had changed events.
I had added a "footnote" to the story.
I sighed as a headache began to return.
These thoughts were too deep—and too dangerous—for now.
I finished my coffee and looked at the moon again. Calm. Silent. Watching everything.
'No matter what…'
'There's one thing I know for certain.'
'I will survive.'
I would use my knowledge. Manipulate every person, every event if I had to.
I wouldn't be a character erased halfway through the story.
I would be the one who reads the final page.
No matter the cost.
I closed the window and returned to bed.
This time…
There were no nightmares.
Only anticipation.
The island was waiting.