Fu Changxun opened his eyes.
In front of him was a bright, spacious classroom—familiar desks, familiar seats, and the voice of a teacher lecturing up front…
Wait a minute.
Wasn’t this his high school classroom?
Even the handwritten schedule on the blackboard was his own handwriting—he used to write it every day. He recognized every stroke.
For a moment, Fu Changxun felt dazed, like he’d just awakened from a long, long dream. In the dream, he had gone to college, fallen in love and broken up, opened a psychology clinic after graduation, and finally gotten dragged into a terrifying game. But now—it felt like he’d woken up.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, then opened them again.
Still sitting right there.
So it wasn’t a hallucination. Around him were students in the standard blue-and-white uniforms—most had their heads down, but four others, like him, were looking around.
The language teacher from his high school was pacing at the podium—but clearly, this was an NPC.
His eyes dropped to the seat beside him—and suddenly, something felt wrong.
Where was Dong Zi?
Whether this was a mental construct or not, Dong Zi should have been right here.
Back in high school, the two of them had been deskmates for a long time. Now that he was in the same seat again, Dong Zi should’ve been next to him—in his original spot.
But instead, the person beside him was a complete stranger. An NPC. Not even a vaguely familiar classmate.
Something’s off… Fu Changxun scanned the four other players. None of them were familiar.
Thirteen players total. Alright—there was still a chance the others had spawned in different areas.
He let out a breath of relief.
The players were sizing each other up. Two of them looked visibly excited—probably people who knew each other.
While everyone was looking around, the teacher up front suddenly slammed the textbook shut and rapped on the blackboard. “Quiet! All this chatter—what, do you want to stand in the hallway as punishment?”
Normally, hallway timeouts were just a routine punishment. Class was already halfway through, so it’d be ten, fifteen minutes at most. But the moment he said that, every NPC student in the room stiffened with terror. They snapped upright like ducks being grabbed by the neck. The room went so silent, even breathing felt loud.
Only then did the teacher nod in satisfaction. “Good. Now, turn to the page I was just discussing…”
Fu Changxun’s wariness spiked. He steadied his breath and stole a glance at the NPC sitting next to him.
Just then, one of the players—ignoring the ominous hallway comment—flipped open their textbook with a loud fwip and muttered under their breath, “Which page was it again?”
But in the dead-silent classroom, his voice stood out like a gunshot.
In an instant, the teacher and every student turned their heads toward him in perfect unison. He froze on the spot.
The player stiffly looked up—only to meet the teacher’s pitch-black, utterly emotionless gaze.
A wave of numbness crawled over his spine. When he snapped out of it, he noticed something even worse—his SAN had just dropped twenty points.
And the instance had barely started. It hadn’t even been ten minutes.
“You there,” the teacher said, voice eerily monotone. “Is there something you don’t understand?”
Cold sweat broke out down the player’s back. “N-No, sir.”
The teacher frowned. “No? Then why are you disrupting the class?”
This player clearly wasn’t a rookie—he composed himself quickly and added, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to.”
Most instances didn’t kill players outright at the start. If you acted fast, sometimes you could make up for a mistake.
But the teacher didn’t let it go. He glanced at the wall clock, then said, “You’ve wasted five minutes of the class’s time. Stand in the hallway for five minutes.”
Before the player could respond, the teacher walked over and yanked him out of his seat, dragging him toward the door.
The other players stared in shock—because the teacher lifted the player like he was weightless, and the guy couldn’t even resist.
Fu Changxun caught a glimpse of the player being tossed outside—then came the screams.
“FUCK—what the hell is that—”
“Get away from me!”
“Aaaahhh—!”
The teacher calmly shut the door, sealing off the sound along with it. Inside the classroom, no one dared make a sound. No one knew what was out there. No one knew if that player was even still alive.
And the “teacher” acted like nothing had happened. He returned to the podium and resumed lecturing.
Five agonizing minutes later, the door creaked open on its own.
The injured player collapsed inside with a heavy thud, body bloodied and torn to shreds. But he didn’t make a sound. He clenched his jaw, lips pale, shaking with pain.
He crawled back to his desk, leaving a long, wet trail of blood behind him. The NPC students didn’t even glance over. The NPC teacher didn’t blink either.
The atmosphere among the players turned ice-cold.
There were less than ten minutes left until class ended. No one dared to speak. The only sound was the faint drip, drip, drip of blood hitting the floor.
At last, to the desperate hope of all the players, the bell rang.
The teacher checked the clock and said, “Long break—twenty minutes. I’ll continue for three more.”
He was extending the class.
The players groaned internally. Who knew what kind of horror might come out of those three minutes?
Especially the injured player—he nearly passed out from sheer frustration.
“Excuse me, Teacher,” Fu Changxun suddenly raised his hand. “I have a question.”
Apparently, asking questions didn’t count as disruption. The teacher nodded. “Speak.”
Fu Changxun stood up. “We’re supposed to go downstairs and do calisthenics during the long break. The principal had a rule against overtime classes—if you delay us, the bulletin board downstairs will post a public notice criticizing you. Isn’t that right?”
It was a ridiculous rule from his actual high school, but now it might actually help.
A few minutes ago, he’d noticed that the class schedule beside the blackboard still listed “Calisthenics” during this break, which meant that part of the setting hadn’t changed.
The teacher’s expression finally shifted—eyes narrowing with suspicion and scrutiny.
“Is that correct?”
Fu Changxun didn’t flinch. Mostly because this NPC looked exactly like his old language teacher, which took some of the edge off.
He stared straight back. Big eyes met small ones.
After a few tense moments, the NPC gave in. With clear reluctance, he waved his hand. “You’re right. Thank you for the reminder. Class is dismissed.”
The remaining players exhaled in relief—and all turned to stare at Fu Changxun.
This guy had guts.
The NPC students were already getting up and filing out, chattering and joking like real high schoolers.
But no real students would ignore someone soaked in blood.
The badly injured player was barely holding on. He looked around in a panic, pleading, “Anyone got healing items? I’m out of points! I’ll pay you back next time, I swear!”
The other four players exchanged glances, but none of them responded. Healing items were available in the Game Shop—but they were expensive…
“Don’t you want to know what’s out there?” the wounded player cried, desperate. “That thing almost killed me!”
Bloodied eyes darted from face to face. This was his leverage now.
Fu Changxun let out a slow sigh, then exchanged 100 points for an external wound treatment potion. He stepped forward and handed it over. “Fine. Tell us everything. Be as specific as possible.”
The player downed it immediately. His wounds began to heal at a pace visible to the naked eye.
A hundred points—that was about what a player could expect from completing an entire instance. The other three players instantly realized: this guy was either a selfless saint or a top-tier player.
These three were all young—two guys and a girl. The two men clearly knew each other. The girl was short and slight, but had been the first to regroup with the others.
Clearly, they were all experienced.
No rookies—definitely not good news.
Instances that included new players were usually a little more forgiving, designed to avoid full-party wipes. But ones filled with veterans? Not so kind. It was one trap after another, like walking a minefield—if a few people didn’t die, it wouldn’t be a proper instance.
Once the injured player looked more or less healed, Fu Changxun said, “Start talking. And walk while you do—we need to move.”
They were nearly at the door.
The male player didn’t stall anymore. “It was a monster. It was already out there while class was going on—I don’t know if it’s still there now.”
He took a couple deep breaths. “It was terrifying. I spent points on a defense item, and even then it nearly slashed an artery. It’s fast. I couldn’t even see what it looked like. I don’t know if it had claws or blades—but whatever it was, it was lethal.”
He clearly had no intention of going back out again—just remembering it was enough to shake him.
“Could that be one of the haunted stories already?” The petite female player, having picked up on the intel, chimed in to help analyze. “There are five in total, and we’ve already encountered one?”
Fu Changxun looked up and saw that all the student NPCs had already filed out of the classroom.
He called out, “Xiao Hei, go check if there’s anything outside.”
The black cat licked its paw, then gracefully padded to the door and slipped out. A few seconds later, it returned with a soft meow.
Nothing out there.
“Alright, let’s go,” Fu Changxun declared, putting an end to the discussion. Even if that player didn’t want to, he had no choice but to follow—unless he wanted to stay behind in the classroom and face whatever unknown horrors might be lurking.
The five of them followed cautiously behind the stream of NPC students, heading down the stairs.
Fu Changxun couldn’t help but marvel—every inch of this instance was a perfect replica of his old high school. Even the chipped railings were in the exact same spots. It was uncanny.
Just as they reached the second floor, a figure suddenly appeared around the corner, startling the group into pulling out their items.
“Dr. Fu! Thank god, I finally found someone—I was the only player in my classroom!”
“Director Qiu?” Fu Changxun blinked at the man stuffed into a high school uniform, looking thoroughly out of place. He chuckled, “You look like this game chewed you up and spit you out.”
Qiu Yi looked resigned. “There’s no way I look like a student. I stand out too much.”
Obvious player.
The other four players relaxed once they realized this new guy was with Fu Changxun. “He one of yours?”
Fu Changxun nodded. “Yeah, one of my teammates. Not sure where the others got dropped.”
Which was his way of letting them know: he had allies. Don’t get any ideas. He hadn’t missed the way those two male players had been eyeing Xiao Hei earlier—clearly sizing him up, calculating whether they could take the cat from him by force.
Now that Qiu Yi had shown up, there was no need to follow the shifty crowd down to the field.
He turned to the four players. “I know a way to skip the calisthenics. Of course, just to be safe, I’ll leave the choice to you.”
He had something important to take care of.
