Thriller Trainee

paces between bodies, watching the white-haired Magician slowly open the dusty diary that had not seen the light in many a year.

It wasn’t just the students of Class 9.
Contenders who were camping in the live broadcasts of other classes also sped over to Class 9’s broadcast upon hearing the news to see what the fuss was about.

[WTF this should be the first clue that has appeared in this collective instance, right?]

[Come on, see what it’s about.
It can’t be some kind of important clue, can it? By the usual trend of horror instances, a diary is the best vehicle to record such stuff.] 

[Uh-huh.
If it’s any kind of solution to this round, then they’ve really struck gold.]

Under everyone’s ardent gazes, the Magician flipped to the first page of the diary without batting an eyelid nor skipping a heartbeat.

Oddly, the owner’s name wasn’t written in the diary, though the handwriting looked familiar to Zong Jiu.

[March 3: Despite all my pleading, they pulled some strings to send me here.] 

[March 5: Terrifying… this school is really terrifying.
If we don’t study, we’ll really die.]

[March 6: They actually don’t permit students to write diaries.
It’ll be dangerous if I get caught.
I have to hide this diary well.]

 

There wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary in the beginning.
Zong Jiu flipped through them, only seeing trivial entries filled with the bloodshed and brutality of First High.

These were already known to the trainees and wouldn’t be of much use or provide much worth for reference if read. 

Finally, after continuing to the back, they finally saw something of value.

The handwriting in the diary became messier as the days passed.
It was clear that the owner was in a precarious state of mind as she penned these words.

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The turning point began with the appearance of another person in the diary.

[April 6: This diary is the only time for me to relax in the daily rush of study.
Only when I write these words do I feel like I’m not a person who only lives to study.] 

[April 8: The class monitor is really nice.
She found time to motivate the class even though she has her hands full with her own studies.]

[April 11: In the first monthly exam, the girl in front of me secretly gave me candy.
I hid it in my blanket and unwrapped it.
Though it had already melted, it was really sweet.]

[April 12: Everyone in class is very nice.
I also want to become like them, able to show kindness and warmth to others.]

… 

[May 10: The whole class has made a pact.
We must survive and score into the top 3 dream universities.]

At this point, the handwriting became smooth and steady again, every stroke, every throw, every hook, every dot neatly written.

Until…

[May 14: How could this have happened?] 

Unfortunately, the further back they went, they found that a few pages near the end appeared as though rats had chewed on them.
They had water stains and were clumped together.
Only the last yellowed page survived.

Here, the handwriting had reverted to scribbles, even tainted with a blackish hue.

A trainee in their class exclaimed, “So much blood?”

They had been well aware in their hearts that it wasn’t probable that the owner of this diary had survived.
After all, why else would they have tucked their diary here instead of taking it away with them after graduation? 

[July 4: I’ve found it; it’s right next to the Corpse Pit… but the class only has 3 people left.
If no one among us changes, in the next exam, the whole class will die.]

[July 5: A graduation photo was taken today.
In the split second that the shutter was pressed, in the photo… I was the only person left.]

 

[July 6: Save me, can anyone save me, please.
I can’t hold on anymore… I can’t.]

[July 7: Unless something crops up, this will be my last entry.
I’m going to hide this diary in the podium.
If anyone from the future is reading this, please make sure to stop this before tragedy strikes.
As said before, the transformation process is *irreversible*.
Even if by now, my classmates have become what they’d detested most at the start, this is our only option to survive.
There’s no other way.] 

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[They sacrificed themselves to save the class.
They saved me.]

[It’s my turn now.]

The diary ended abruptly here.

After reading the diary, Class 9 exchanged glances with each other. 

The first portion was more routine, yet the last page hid a deep secret.
If they wanted to find more clues, it was no doubt contained in the shredded pages in front.

Zong Jiu was the first to question, “Did you find anything else when you were cleaning? Was there nothing else in the crevice?”

Index 99 shook his head like a rattle.
“We were wiping down the podium together at that time.
Aside from the diary, there were only a few almost-perfect score result slips inside and nothing else.

Zong Jiu pondered on it for a moment before pointing at two words in the diary—the ‘graduation photo’. 

“This item should be the key to solving the mystery.”

He wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Others, too.

“But though we’ve been in First High for so long; we haven’t heard of any outstanding alumni display here.”

As the trainees spoke, they suddenly noticed something.
“Logically speaking, wouldn’t prestigious high schools be more than eager to show off graduation photos and honour rolls of their previous batches of top students?” 

[There’s definitely something fishy for them to have gone against convention.]

[Yeah, since the source of the problem has been found, they can just keep investigating down this line of thought.]

[Actually, I’m a little more concerned about the irreversible tragedy that the diary mentioned.
What does that mean? Could it be that previous graduation students had committed suicide for the greater good of the class?]

[That doesn’t sound right, though.
How do you propose that there be a graduation photo if everyone else has committed suicide? Resurrection? Psh.] 

However, this question was definitively answered on a morning five days later.

A B-rank trainee had become a faceless person.