Kai barely slept.
After returning from the hidden corridors below the school, he had locked himself in his room and sat staring at the photo he'd taken: the one of the student records, the files that named people he knew—people who were supposedly just like him—but who weren't supposed to be there.
When the first bell rang the next morning, Kai stood in the hallway like a stranger in a foreign land.
The school looked the same. Students laughed, teachers passed by with coffee mugs and hollow smiles. But something was off. Too clean. Too rehearsed.
He clutched the photo in his pocket like a lifeline.
And then he saw her.
Mira Sato—sitting alone in the library window, sketching spirals in her notebook. Again.
During his break, Kai slipped into the staff records room. The door was unlocked, which struck him as strange, almost like someone wanted him to find something.
He went straight to the attendance logs. As he flipped through, he found something unsettling.
There was no record of Mira.Not in attendance, not in the student database, not even in the enrollment lists.
He searched for Rei Nakamura.
Also missing.
Even though he'd talked to both of them. Sat near them. Heard them speak.
Then he remembered a moment last week, when he'd brought up Mira's name in class—his classmates had looked at him blankly, like they'd never heard of her.
Like she didn't exist.
He returned to the old class map he'd found in one of the files in the basement.
There it was again.
Room 3-C.
But when Kai checked the current school map posted near the teachers' lounge, there was no Room 3-C. The hallway skipped from 3-B to 3-D.
He went there anyway.
When he reached the third floor, the hallway leading to Room 3-C looked… different. Dustier. Dimmer. Like it hadn't been used in years.
And yet…
A door stood at the end of it. Plain, metal, unmarked.
He tried the handle.
It opened without a sound.
Inside: desks arranged neatly, blackboard clean. And students sitting silently.
But they weren't talking. Weren't moving.
Each one wore a mask—featureless, pale white, like porcelain.
Kai took a step in. The air was heavy, thick like fog.
The students all turned toward him in perfect synchrony.
He froze.
One stood up.
Then another.
Kai backed out of the room slowly, the door creaking as he closed it.
The second it shut—
The hallway was gone.
Just a blank wall.
Shaken, Kai returned to the library and waited until it emptied.
He found Mira again, in the farthest corner.
This time, he didn't ask.
He just placed the photograph on the table.
She stared at it for a long time, her expression unreadable.
Finally, she said, "You saw Room 3-C."
It wasn't a question.
Kai sat down. "Who are they?"
She hesitated. "They were students. Like us. But something went wrong."
He leaned in. "With what?"
She closed her notebook, hiding the spirals she'd drawn.
"There was a program. Years ago. A class created by people who believed the mind could be reshaped—rebuilt—if you removed identity. Memory. They called it 'The Spiral Curriculum.'"
Kai felt a chill.
Mira looked him straight in the eye. "Those students in the masks… they weren't always like that. They're what's left of the first group. Their names were erased. Their faces, too."
Kai's voice was barely a whisper. "Why didn't the school shut it down?"
"They did," Mira said. "Publicly. Quietly. But something kept it going."
Kai returned to the records room that evening with one goal: to find the original class roster.
After hours of digging, he found a locked drawer labeled SPIRAL GROUP: BETA CLASS.
The lock was old. He pried it open with a metal ruler.
Inside: a thick black binder, water-damaged and scorched around the edges.
The first page had a list of 14 names. Beside each, a photo—and a status.
Name: Arata Minoru – STATUS: RedactedName: Nakamura Rei – STATUS: DisconnectedName: Sato Mira – STATUS: Deemed ResistantName: Kai Ishida – STATUS: Under Observation
His blood ran cold.
His name was on the list.
But the photo beside it was different.
The face looked like his—but older. Hollow-eyed.
And masked.
As he stood frozen in place, the school intercom crackled to life.
"Student Kai Ishida. Please report to Room 3-C."
The voice was gentle, polite.
But it shouldn't have been possible.
The intercom system hadn't worked for years—teachers had said as much.
"Repeat: Kai Ishida, report to Room 3-C."
He dropped the binder and ran.
Not toward 3-C—but away. Through the halls, down the stairwell, past classrooms where students sat unnaturally still.
When he turned a corner near the music room, someone stepped into his path.
A tall figure in a school uniform.
Wearing a white porcelain mask.
Kai stepped back.
And the figure raised its hand.
Not to hurt him—but to wave.
A slow, deliberate wave of recognition.
Then it turned and walked into the dark.
Later that night, Kai sat alone in his room, the stolen binder in his lap.
He had too many questions, and no safe place to ask them.
Was he part of the experiment?Had they manipulated him—wiped memories, rewritten his past?
What about his parents?
His teachers?
His friends?
The truth felt like it was spiraling out of reach, circling deeper and deeper down, dragging him with it.
He glanced at the mirror across the room—and for a split second, his reflection wore a mask.
He blinked.
Gone.
But it was enough.
Kai knew now: this wasn't just a mystery.
It was a trap.
And he had already stepped too far inside.