"A... condition?" Longs tilted his head, still catching his breath. "What kind of condition?"
Cydal raised a finger and pointed straight at him. "Stay ten steps behind me at all times. And you talk way too much, and too loud. That has to stop."
Longs blinked. "What—"
"I can hear just fine," Cydal cut in. "So speak slowly. And only when necessary."
"Ow man." Longs gave a crooked smile. "You're seriously that angry, huh?"
Cydal didn't answer. His gaze didn't waver.
"Those are the rules," he said. "Break them only when you want to be out of this team."
"Ah, okay…" Longs scratched the back of his head awkwardly, trying to ease the tension. "So… where are we going exactly? I mean, I don't suppose you've got any clues already. I am the guide, I know this school more than you, shouldn't I be the one ten steps ahead of you?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he'd messed up.
Cydal came to a sudden halt. His boots scraped slightly against the floor.
Longs froze.
Without saying anything, Cydal stepped aside, letting Longs pass in front of him.
"Fine," he said, eyes narrowing. "I don't mind that."
Longs blinked, stepping ahead cautiously like he was walking into a trap.
"We're heading to the Conspiracy Theory Club," Cydal said. "I need to speak with your club president. If she's uncovered anything useful, it might give us a head start in finding the catacombs."
Longs' shoulders tensed up. "Wait… you mean her? Shari?"
Cydal didn't answer, but the way his gaze cut through the hallway said enough.
"Great…" Longs muttered under his breath.
"I'm in danger for my life, aren't I?" Longs muttered, sweat running down his neck. "Shari gets scary when I skip her storytelling classes. And this time she invited me and I couldn't go… she won't be happy."
Cydal didn't even glance back. His silence was as comforting as a noose.
And then, there it was—the door to the Conspiracy Theory Club.
They'd arrived.
The moment it opened, Randa came panting down the hall, breathless but determined, just in time to catch up. "You guys walk too fast. Slow down for me sometimes too." she wheezed.
Inside, the room buzzed with energy.
Shari sat hunched over a thick notebook, writing something, it could've been her next stage play—or just another collection of bizarre theories. Either way, her world was locked between ink and madness.
On the other side of the room, Kowa was on the floor, shirtless, drenched in sweat and glory. He had just hit 187 of his push up.
"188… 189… 190…" the girls surrounding him chanted in perfect unison, eyes sparkling with admiration.
Kowa flashed a smug grin, his form flawless even in the chaos. "Keep counting ladies. I ain't stopping this quickly."
Isaac stood by the window, staring at the flower pots lining the sill. The plants inside had lost all color—sagging, brittle things barely clinging to life. No light. No growth. Just silence.
"You remember that book you used to read as a kid?" he asked quietly. "The one with red roses?"
Lal turned toward him, her expression soft.
"You used to say how nice it'd be to grow them on our farm." He let out a breath. "You loved those flowers, didn't you?"
His voice dipped, gaze falling back to the wilted stems. "We could never grow those. Not in this poisoned soil... but I've been researching. There are other red flowers. Ones that survive in harsh places. They don't need sunlight. They just grow. I thought... maybe I could grow them for you."
He stopped. The words felt small against the weight of failure.
Lal stepped closer, her soft fingers gliding gently across his back until they rested on his shoulder. She leaned in, resting her chin on the other, and wrapped her arm around him in a quiet, comforting hug.
"So what?" she whispered. "Since when do you give up after a single failure? You and your father never lost hope in your farm, even when everyone else had."
A playful smile curved her lips as her eyes lit up with mischief. "I want that flower. I'll wear it in my hair—just like the heroine from that book. Remember how beautiful she looked?"
She laughed softly, already picturing herself as that heroine—light, fearless, and free.
Her smile bloomed Isaac—like pollen awakening flowers, it stirred something inside him. He was no longer withered.
"You're right! I can't give up yet." he said, his voice carrying the lift of a confident wind. "I must try again."
Moments later.
The door creaked open—slow, eerie.
Everyone turned.
Cydal stepped in.
Behind him, Longs gave an apologetic smile, and Randa peered in, looking unsure but curious.
All eyes slowly turned toward them. Kowa stopped at push-up 313, holding the position without breaking a sweat.
The room shifted—from light chaos to a storm waiting to break.
Longs barely managed a nervous wave. "Uh… h-hi…"
Before he could even finish the second syllable, Shari lunged at him like a tiger breaking loose from a cage.
He screamed internally. This is it. This is how I die. At the hands of a psychotic tigress. At least a real tigress wouldn't be this scary.
But before she could make contact, Cydal stepped between them, calm and cold. His presence was like a wall—still and unshakable.
Shari slammed to a stop, blinking at him.
"...Huh? Who's this guy?" she turned around asking everyone. She was really clueless.
Cydal didn't flinch. He just stared at her, as if expecting the usual reactions—gasps, whispers, maybe a few people scrambling away in fear. But she looked… puzzled.
And somehow, that stung worse than hatred.
"You the leader of this club?" he asked, voice flat.
Shari crossed her arms, sizing him up. "Yeah. And who are you supposed to be? I saw you in class earlier with the principal. That dramatic entrance? 'I won't tell my name.' Pfft. What are you, a stage actor?" She laughed, completely unimpressed.
Longs the poor soul, was already panicking from her as it was, he tried to introduce cydal.
But she didn't let him talk, gave him a gaze that signalled, I ain't talking to you dumbass.
Longs was fuming. And, in true Longs fashion, he made sure everyone knew it.
"Are you seriously doing this to me?!" he shouted, voice booming through the room. "Kowa didn't even show up to your storytelling—and now you've got him here, flaunting his body like a peacock in heat?!"
In the backroom, Kowa was indeed doing exactly that—shamelessly flexing, posing, letting the girls giggle over his every move. But then Longs noticed something… and completely lost it.
He burst out laughing—loud, unfiltered, and a little unhinged.
"Bwahaha! She—she drew boobies on your chest?! dude she totally punished you!!"
Tears streamed down his face as he pointed.
Kowa turned red instantly. "Shut up, dumbass! I can't believe she used permanent markers! How am I supposed to get rid of these?!"
The girls giggled, trying to stifle it.
—but the moment vanished as soon as Cydal started speaking, pulling everyone's attention away like a cold splash of water.
Then it clicked.
Shari's eyes widened. "Wait. No freaking way. You're Cydal? The Cydal?!"
"I've heard stories about you from the entire village. All they ever do is talk about you, You're like a celebrity!"
The scream she let out made the ceiling rattle. But it wasn't from fear—it was the excited scream of a fangirl discovering her favorite urban legend just walked into her club.
"BOOK! SOMEONE BRING ME MY BOOK!" she shouted to her club members, who scrambled like ants.
"I've so many questions for you, sir," she beamed, eyes twinkling.
"...Sir?" Longs muttered, betrayed by reality. "Since when did he get promoted?"
"I document every myth, mystery, and urban legend in this school," Shari declared proudly. "And you—ohhh you need a whole chapter. Maybe even a volume!"
Cydal stood there, a blank stare on his face.
This… wasn't what he expected
Cydal calmly raised a hand, stopping Shari mid-ramble.
"I heard there's talk about a mysterious catacomb."
He turned his eyes toward Longs, sharp and accusing. "This was your secret source, wasn't it?"
Longs blinked, stunned. "Wait—how did you…?"
Cydal didn't answer him directly. He didn't need to. The answer was obvious.
Longs, for all his flexing, had a social circle that barely extended past the classroom door. Meanwhile, Shari was a walking encyclopedia of rumors and strange school happenings. It was the easiest deduction of the day.
He looked at Shari again. "I want to know what you know about the catacombs."
And just like that… her spark fizzled.
"Ugh," she groaned, slumping back into her chair. "There's nothing about it. It's fake. An advertising rumor I made up so people would take our club seriously."
She crossed her arms, clearly annoyed with herself. "I shouldn't have done that… not with lies."
"So that's it?" cydal said, eyes scanning the room for other possibilities. "No useful information. Just like I predicted. Mere students—wasting time."
"Oh no—he's disappointed in me?!" she panicked inwardly. The fangirl screamed, cried, and wheezed in silence, but on the outside, she remained calm—masking the desperate urge to impress her idol with a perfectly normal smile.
"However!" Shari shouted!
"Yeah?" Cydal's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it.
Shari continued talking. "If you go notice, there are strange carvings, illegible texts, and mysterious statues you could move in the basement. Isn't that suspicious? Why would a high school have all that?"
"Not a single teacher would talk about if you asked them, the principal even banned us from going there. Talking about some security concerns but he didn't add anything further."
"But the shallow answers only made me curious so.."
Cydal didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow as he waited for her to continue.
"I wanted to uncover this, I went to the other locations for every possible clue." She leaned in slightly, her voice a little more serious now. "And do you know where I found similar texts and inscriptions?"
She paused, glancing around the room, ensuring everyone was paying attention.
"There are some in the restrooms. Some in Class B-12, the class rumored to have the most students and teachers missing, mainly girls. And even some in the principal's office. I'm sure there are more than this. I just don't have enough time to explore it all with classes and my own club." She shook her head a little, a bit frustrated.
"I went to the boys' restrooms. Although I don't advise it. It smells hell in there. God, what a thing to remind a lady."
A few people in the room chuckled, but Shari barely noticed, too wrapped up in her own thoughts.
"But I heard some strange noises. I can't make it out. But it was like a warning not to go there."
"Some people said I was blindly obsessed, that my mind played tricks on me. But I swear I heard it right. There's definitely a connection."
Shari finished her sentence, leaving the air heavy with silence. "That's all I know."
The boys exchanged glances, and the decision was made. They'd head over.
"Hey, Cydal, mind if I join you guys?" Randa asked, her voice soft.
Cydal gave a silent nod, agreeing with the plan.
"Hold on a minute, Randa~"
Kowa's voice lilted playfully as he slipped his shirt over his head, tousling his hair in the process. he bounded toward her in light, exaggerated skips—like a pony prancing in a sunlit meadow.
His focus was randa he couldn't care to look at Cydal. He was practically a shadow in the corner of the room for him.
"Yo, you wanna join us?" Longs asked, grinning like he was onto something. "It's gonna be a boys' bonding thing. Except maybe girls too, or a girl.. you know since randa is a girl and she's the only girl."
Kowa shrugged, unimpressed. "Pass."
Longs leaned in, feigning disappointment. "Aw, man. You never hang with me anymore. All you care about are those dumb girls." He glanced over at the girls, who shot him glares. "Uh, never mind, I didn't say anything," he added quickly.
"If you were a grown man, you'd understand what women do to you," Kowa replied with a smirk.
Longs blinked. "Yeah? What exactly do they do?"
"When you come of age, little baby… we'll have a man-to-man talk about the wonders—and dangers—of having a woman in your life. Trust me, it's amazing."
He shoots a cocky grin, then shifts his eyes to Randa, voice dipping into a flirty tone.
"But for now… if this beautiful lady doesn't object, I'd like to resume my conversation with her.
Randa stood beside Cydal, who was clearly growing impatient—his eyes flicking to the door every few seconds as the conversation dragged on, he just wanted to leave.
Her gaze shifted to Kowa, eyes catching the soft glow of the dimly lit clubroom. "Please, Kowa," she said gently, her voice laced with a hopeful lilt. "Why don't you join us? I think it would be so much fun."
Kowa's eyebrow arched, a grin already forming. "Fun, huh?" he said, his tone brightening. "Haven't had a real adventure in ages—so yes, absolutely, I'm in!"
Longs, now frustrated, threw his hands up. "What? Just a moment ago you said you'd pass?!"
Kowa smirked, his voice teasing. "Yeah, but that was about going with a guy. I mean, it's Randa—we both know I can't say no to her."
Although moments later Kowa shot Randa a dramatic, almost overly concerned look, his hands quickly found hers, pulling her gently away from Cydal. "But today's not the right day for us to be having fun," he said, his tone half playful, half serious. "You know I hate Giselle and her sister more than anyone. They've hurt you, but we shouldn't be thinking about fun right now when there's a funeral."
Longs was now grumpy and sulking, kowa says that but just an moment ago, he'd been surrounded by girls, having his fun.
Kowa gestured toward the others. "We're all going to the funeral and to help. You should come."
Randa nodded obediently. "Of course. I completely forgot—I'll help too."
Kowa smiled at the awkward, innocent girl.
Only she could forget something like this and still seem so carefree.
They walked out together, randa looked at cydal one last time before the others started trailing behind them. Kowa didn't really care about the funeral, though. He was just making sure Randa stayed away from Cydal. Kowa glared at cydal, mocking him through his eyes before leaving.
Just as Kowa was about to head out, something tugged at him—concern. His eyes landed on Cydal again, who stared back with that unreadable, hollow gaze. Kowa could've turned it into a staring contest if it lasted a second longer, but instead, he grabbed Longs by the arm and tugged him toward the door.
"You realize you're becoming his sheep, right?" Kowa said, voice low and serious. "He'll feed you to the wolves if you keep trusting him blindly. Whatever game he's playing—it's dangerous. Leave him, and come to the funeral with us."
But with a loud slap, Longs smacked Kowa's hand off his shoulder and turned back without a word.
"Nuh-uh," he called over his shoulder with a grin. "You don't have to come if you don't want but It's already decided between us. We're clearing this quest together."
And just like that, they went their separate ways, completely ignoring his warnings.
After what felt like forever in silence, they finally reached the basement. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than an ordinary door—old, with chipped paint peeling off in quiet flakes, as if time itself had tried to forget it.
With a slow, dragging creak, the basement door crept open, allowing Cydal and Longs to step into the dim, musty space.
"Odd," Longs muttered, scratching his head as he followed behind. "Didn't Shari say students were banned from coming down here? Then why's the door unlocked?"
"And do you see anything unusual? 'Cause dude, I can't see a thing in this dark place," Longs whispered, his voice low as his eyes struggled to adjust, scanning the cluttered basement.
There wasn't much—just the usual: stacked chairs, broken desks, rusted lockers, and boxes of old sports gear. But something stood out.
The sharp, biting scent of bleach hung heavy in the air, especially over a section of the wet floor.
Cydal knelt beside it, eyes narrowing. "This must be where she was killed."
"Eh? You mean… Giselle's sister?" Longs asked, inching closer.
"She was attacked outside," Cydal continued, fingers brushing the floor lightly. "But she made it down here to hide."
"Whoa, cool—how can you tell that?" Longs asked, curiosity taking over his nerves.
"I smelled the same bleach all the way down the hallway, leading here. Whoever tried to clean up didn't do a very good job."
"This reminds me of the orphanage as well. Every time someone was said to be 'adopted,' there was that same sharp scent of bleach in the air. I was too young to understand back then—but it wasn't for cleaning toys. It was for cleaning their blood."
As Cydal scanned the area, something shiny near the corner of the wall was hiding in a crack, it caught his eye. He stood, walked over, and picked it up.
To be continued