In the films and television of Japan, old school buildings are usually tied to a plethora of horror rumors.
For example, a senior girl who plays tug-of-war with people from the rafters, a junior girl who likes to repeatedly smash her head against the concrete floor, or other similar stories.
These ghost stories are embellished by each generation of students, eventually solidifying into fixed campus cultural symbols, appearing in after-school chatter as a tacit daily topic of conversation.
But reality is often much more mundane than the rumors.
The real reason most old school buildings come to be is simply the year-by-year decrease in the student population caused by an aging society and a declining birthrate.
With not enough new students, schools struggle to make ends meet and are forced to cut costs, gradually abandoning the maintenance and management of certain buildings.
Eventually, they end up looking like the pictures in news reports and ghost story posts—dilapidated and desolate.
However, not all old school buildings are destined for such a fate.
Some schools, based on the concept of land repurposing and with government support, have renovated them into infrastructure they previously couldn't afford.
Fujimori Girls Academy is one of them.
The old school building wasn't demolished or forgotten; instead, after being rezoned, it was transformed into art classrooms, music practice rooms, and a few small club rooms that required a quiet environment.
And the Astronomy Club was one of those.
Walking straight along the path from the school gate, passing the flower beds in the courtyard, and turning a corner, Rin and Reina arrived at their destination.
It wasn't even five o'clock yet, but most club activities had already ended. The corridor was quiet, with only the alternating sounds of their footsteps, occasionally drowned out by the wind outside the window.
From the first floor to the third, Reina didn't see another soul along the way, as several closed doors slid past them one by one.
"The one by the window... the one by the window..."
Following behind Rin, Reina's gaze scanned the surrounding doors.
She suddenly felt that her club president's description of the location was a bit too vague.
With just a cursory glance, she had already discovered at least four rooms with windows nearby.
Which one was "by the window"? East side or west side? At the end of the corridor or in the middle?
Before she could ask, the white figure in front of her came to a halt.
"Here."
Rin stood before a wooden door that clearly hadn't been maintained in a long time.
The surface of the wooden door had long since lost its luster, the edges were slightly warped, and one could faintly see crisscrossing scratches left from some unknown time.
"...Uh, are you sure we're in the right place?"
Reina stared at those scratches, her footsteps involuntarily faltering.
She felt like... this was the kind of room in a horror movie where the protagonists foolishly wander in and end up cursed...
"Mm."
Rin seemed completely oblivious to Reina's unusual reaction. She lowered her head, rummaged through a pocket in her shoulder bag for a moment, and pulled out a slightly old key.
She firmly inserted the key into the lock and turned her wrist.
"Click."
The sound of the lock opening was exceptionally clear in the silent corridor.
Reina instinctively took half a step back, as if something unspeakable would truly come pouring out from behind that door.