I transmigrated into a horror survival game set in a high school. Unfortunately, I landed head-first and promptly lost my memory. Thinking I was still a struggling student in the real world, I threw myself into my studies. When I got stuck on a difficult problem, I poked my pale, gloomy desk mate and humbly asked: "This question is killer. Do you know how to solve it?" "How do you pronounce this obscure word?" "I'm screwed. If the teacher calls on me later, whisper the answer, okay?" My desk mate went from cold indifference to confusion, and finally, to obedient nodding. "Mhm." "Okay." "Whatever you say." From that day on, the dungeon mission changed from [Find the Origin Heart] to [Rank in the Top 10 of the Class]. The other players, completely in the dark, had a mental breakdown: "Senior year! Top 10?! Just kill me now!" 1 [Congratulations! You have successfully entered the dungeon instance.] [Dungeon Name: Inferno High] [Description: Players must explore on their own.] [Player Count: 15] [Difficulty Warning! Energy instability detected. Current Difficulty: A-Rank.] [Identity: You are an ordinary Senior student. (Shhh... don't let them find out you don't belong.)] [Objective: Find the 'Origin Heart' of Inferno High.] [Penalty for Failure: Vitality -50. (Manifests as terminal illness in the real world.)] [BEEP! User consciousness not detected. System link malfunctioning...] "You're awake? Any discomfort?" My head was buzzing like a broken radio. I thought I heard a weird robotic voice, but it was cut off by a gentle, concerned female voice. I opened my eyes. White coat. Blue curtains. The smell of antiseptic. Hospital? Wait, when did I get sick? My head felt heavy and swollen. I looked up, confused. "Where am I..." The doctor leaned in. She was stunningly beautiful, but she stared at me with a tilted head for a few seconds too long. Suddenly, her bright red lips stretched into an exaggerated, almost unnatural smile. "The nurse's office. You fell down the stairs and landed on the back of your head." "Luckily, another student broke your fall, so you didn't crack your skull open. Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?" I fell? I touched the back of my head. "Ow!" A sharp pain shot through my skull. I looked down at the school uniform I was wearing. "Not dizzy, just hurts. But... Nurse? Am I..." Why does this feel wrong? I have a vague memory of wearing a waitress uniform and working a shift... Was I working part-time after school? "What is it?" The nurse shoved her hands into her pockets, her smile widening just a fraction more. It looked... predatory. I stared at her pretty face, swallowed my doubts, and shook my head. "Nothing. Do I need to go back to class?" Let's not ask stupid questions. Maybe I'm just dreaming. She seemed almost disappointed she didn't get to say more. "Yes. Your homeroom teacher will be here shortly to pick you up." "Be careful on the stairs next time. You might not be so lucky." I tugged awkwardly at my uniform and gave a shy smile. "Okay. Thanks." 2 A few minutes later, just as the nurse said, a middle-aged woman in a severe black skirt suit walked in. She wore thick black-rimmed glasses, her expression stern, her eyes flashing with a cold, sharp light. She didn't ask how I was. She just dropped a cold command: "If you're not dead, come back to class." She turned and marched out without waiting for a reply. I scrambled off the bed, waved goodbye to the nurse, and trotted after her. She walked with a terrifying speed. She looked exactly like the type of teacher students would nickname "The Terminator." Wait. Student days? Why am I thinking like that? I am a student. I rubbed my temple. My brain must really be scrambled from the fall. "We're here. Go in." Standing at the classroom door, the teacher stepped aside. Inside, thirty pairs of eyes swiveled toward me in unison. Their gazes were intense, burning. I froze in the doorway. Uh oh. My social anxiety is flaring up. Afraid of being stared at for too long, I quickly scanned the room. There was an empty desk in the back left corner. That must be mine. I rushed over, sat down, and saw English vocabulary words on the blackboard. Instinctively, I pulled an English textbook from under the desk and grabbed a pen. The atmosphere in the class was weirdly tense. The teacher kept firing questions, and the students who couldn't answer stammered and shook like leaves. Finally, the bell rang. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I hadn't been called on. But there was a grammar point I still didn't get. The teacher had already stormed out. What if she quizzes me on it next period? I looked around. The other students were chattering loudly now, but none of them looked approachable. I slowly turned my head to look at my desk mate. He was pale, almost sickly so. He hadn't made a sound the entire class. He sat there, quiet, introverted, serious. He looked smart. "Hi... Silas?" I read the name written neatly on his notebook. Hearing my voice, Silas tilted his head slightly. Black bangs covered his eyes. His skin was a translucent white with hints of blue veins. Even with his eyes hidden, I could tell from his high nose bridge and sharp jawline that he was handsome. "Um, the teacher was talking about non-finite verbs as modifiers earlier. I didn't quite catch it." "Did you get it? Could you explain it to me?" "Sorry to bother you. It's not that I wasn't listening, it's just... my head is still spinning." I put on my best pleading face. Silas stared at me for a long time. Just when I thought he was going to ignore me, his bangs shifted. He gave a barely perceptible nod. "Mhm." I happily shoved my textbook toward him. "Thanks! You're a lifesaver!" "Non-finite verbs..." His voice was clear and cold, like water running over stones in a dark cave. It had a raspy quality, like he hadn't used it in years. Wow. Even his voice is handsome. I shook off the thought and focused on his explanation. 3 Riiiiiing— Just as I was getting lost in Silas's nice voice and English grammar, the bell rang again. "Welcome our 15 transfer students," the homeroom teacher announced from the podium. "Everyone, take care of the new classmates." Shadows filed in through the front door, squeezing onto the platform. Strange. She said 15, but I only counted 14. And they looked... old. Some of the guys had five o'clock shadows. One woman looked exhausted, another had heavy makeup. They looked old enough to be my parents. Held back a few years? Or expelled from other schools for being delinquents? Curious, I poked Silas's hand and whispered, "They look really mature, don't they?" "Is our class's average GPA really bad? Is that why they sent them here?" Silas didn't answer my question. He just dropped a cold, emotionless reminder: "This is Math class." Those four words hit me like a bucket of ice water. Math! I'm doomed. I suck at Math! And Silas said earlier that Math is taught by "The Terminator" herself! I immediately buried my head in my book, mimicking Silas's strategy of becoming invisible. Please, please don't call on me! Just in case, I grabbed my pen and started frantically reviewing formulas, completely oblivious to the terror spreading through the room. 4 The 14 players who had successfully entered "Inferno High" dragged their desks into the classroom. They were more cautious than ever. The penalty for failure was -50 Vitality. You only start with 100. Failing meant losing half your life force. Plus, the system warned of unstable energy. The difficulty could spike to S-Rank at any moment. And worst of all, the system said 15 players. Only 14 stood here. The veterans exchanged glances. The 15th player was likely already dead. Spawn-killed. Mark, a veteran player, sat down and observed. Usually, players were split among classes. This time, everyone was in Class 3. This meant the Boss or the Key Item was right here. And the mission said "Roleplay." If they broke character, they might be devoured by the NPCs. "John Smith. You answer. What is the value range for the volume of this rectangular pyramid?" The teacher—a ghoul disguised as a human—slapped a ruler against the board. John, a new player, stood up, his legs shaking violently. "I... I... the v-value is... is..." Smack! The ruler hit the podium. The teacher's eyes bled red. "Can't calculate?" "Then your brain is useless." She didn't bother hiding it. Her hair shot out like black arrows, piercing John's skull. Blood sprayed. His headless body slumped into the chair. It took less than five seconds. Mark didn't even have time to pull out a defensive item. The NPC students acted like nothing happened. The class monitor—another ghoul—dragged the body out with the help of two others. The room fell deathly silent. The teacher scanned the room. The players held their breath. "Lina. You answer. What is the value range?" In the back corner, a girl with a ponytail stood up slowly. She looked obedient, maybe a little dazed. "Mumble... mumble..." Her voice was too quiet. The teacher frowned, pushing up her glasses. "How much?" The girl straightened up, suddenly confident. "Twenty-seven over four to sixty-four over three." Mark's eyes widened. Damn, sister. You actually solved it? Is she a player? An NPC? She wasn't at the gathering point. Just as he was wondering, the teacher's face turned pale. She smiled weakly. "Correct. Sit down." The suffocating pressure in the room vanished. The math class continued as normal, minus one head.
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