Hanako-san of the Toilet

The third stall. If you knock, there is always an answer. "Yes?" in an innocent voice.

But you must not look inside. The one behind the door is someone whose name has been forgotten, who for years has only been called "Hanako-san." When she shows herself, it is always just her white socks peering from the gap under the door. Once you answer, all the stall doors fly open at once, and she chases you through a space echoing with dry laughter.

Mozart of the Music Room

Night after night, piano music leaks from the supposedly empty music room. The melody is beautiful and maddeningly precise.

If you peek inside, the portrait that should be in the frame is gone. Sitting at the piano is "he," who has stepped out of the painting. Without stopping his performance, only his white fingertips continue to dance across the keys. The moment he looks up and your eyes meet—you can no longer escape the melody.

Mirror Demon

An old mirror covering one wall of the gym. There is an identical mirror in front of the toilets at the end of the connecting corridor.

The mirror itself says nothing. It simply reflects things that shouldn't be reflected. When you turn around, no one is there. But in the mirror, something is definitely standing. It stares fixedly at you, closing the distance bit by bit. That "something," visible only through the glass, might step out of the mirror the moment you look away.

Anatomical Model of the Science Room

A yellowed skeletal specimen standing in the back of the science prep room. During class, it's just a teaching aid no one notices.

But when the date changes, the specimen begins to move with a clatter. Rattling its joints, it walks slowly but surely down the hallway. The footsteps are heard from a distance at first. When you look back, nothing is there. But every time you turn a corner, the distance has definitely shortened. If you can't outrun it, you'll feel the sensation of bony fingers touching your shoulder.

The Book You Must Not Read

In the back of the library, on a shelf no one ever borrows from, sits a single book with no spine title.

There is no title. If you turn the cover, the pages should be blank. But if you strain your eyes, faded letters slowly emerge. It reads like someone's diary, or perhaps a list of grudges against someone. The further you read, the more the pages turn on their own, and you are not allowed to stop.

When you reach the final page, what is written there is—the name of "you," who are reading this book right now.

Even if you close the book, it's too late. If you look back, the sound of rustling paper approaches from the shadows of the bookshelves. As if demanding you read the sequel.

In a corner of the shoe lockers at the entrance, a single indoor shoe sits without an owner. An indoor shoe with no name written on it, looking strangely new.

When you approach to check, you notice a faint red stain spreading around the shoe. It looks like blood, or perhaps just a stain. When you look away, the other shoe might be rolling at your feet—as if someone is wearing them right now. If you turn around, the sound of bare footsteps can be heard right behind you.

A black shadow standing in a classroom that should be empty. From a distance, you can't tell who it is... but it's a shadow you definitely know.

It speaks to you as if it were a close friend. Sometimes in the form of a teacher, other times in the form of a dear friend. But do not let your guard down. Because in the end, it will steal your face. It will take your place and stand in the classroom in your stead. Just to lure the next prey into a false sense of security.

Guest's best friend and the one who proposed the test of courage. A show-off and reckless, nothing scares him. He entered the school building a step ahead but got separated. Is he safe...?