Ten Tales At Midnight - Chapter 6

? Chapter 6 ? #First Story -­ Note (5)

“… Long time no see. How have you been?”

It was the class president. It was a completely unexpected meeting.

We lost touch after graduating middle school, and I never dreamt of running into her here.

She had entered the same university as me.

I was convinced that it was fate.

The class president had noticeably become more beautiful.

Her appearance from our middle school days was nowhere to be found, and she had become a beautiful and mature woman.

Even her rough edges in her personality had mellowed out.

That day.

We had dinner together.

We reminisced about our memories from middle school and talked nonstop, losing track of time.

“Do you remember back then? I bombarded you with notes.”

“Oh, I remember. The teacher was furious because the ‘I like you’ culprit never came forward.”

“……”

“But why didn’t you come forward back then?”

“W-What… You knew it was me…?”

“Well, of course. It’s not the first time you’ve pulled a prank like that.”

“… But that wasn’t a prank, though?”

Her face blushed as she smiled bashfully.

When I saw that, I felt a glimmer of enlightenment.

The solace I had found in churches and temples during nightmares and self-blame.

I could sense that same solace in her.

It didn’t take us long to develop feelings for each other.

She was the one who confessed first. We dated throughout our college years.

We stuck together like one body, and made love late into the night.

Her title changed from class president to sweetheart and then to honey.

It happened very naturally. We became a couple promising a future together, not just as simple lovers.

And that’s how she became my wife, and I married her.

? ? ?

After passing the civil service exam smoothly.

I have been teaching math to children up until now.

My wife and I were a harmonious and loving couple. We rarely fought and admired each other.

Occasionally, my wife would display her mischievous personality from her middle school days…

But even that, in my eyes, appeared endearing. Perhaps that’s what they call being blinded by love.

It was my first school to commute to as a teacher, not as a student.

Around the time I grew attached to that place, I received a notice of transfer.

My wife and I were taken aback when we found out where my new workplace would be.

It was the middle school where my wife and I graduated, in other words, our alma mater.

To work at the very place where my wife and I first met.

While it was a fresh experience, it doesn’t mean I was entirely happy.

That place held unpleasant memories related to 15.

What if the fading sense of guilt becomes clear again? I found myself caught in such anxiety.

If I were to step into the classroom of the second grade, Class 2, where 15 and I exchanged notes, wouldn’t the nightmare of that day come back to life?

The face of 15 swelled up like a drowned body. The bruise on her mouth. Her throwing up…

But I couldn’t escape.

Sometimes, there are things we have to do even if we dislike them.

Besides, I had my wife by my side. Someone I could always rely on.

Being with such a person was a kind of blessing. It gave me great strength.

When I returned to my alma mater a decade later, the landscape was much different.

The old buildings had been rebuilt with modern architecture.

And so did the interior. From the ceiling and pillars to the walls and even the flooring, everything was new.

It felt like I was in a strange place, not my alma mater.

Perhaps that’s why I felt relieved.

I worked there without any incidents for several years.

I felt like a fool, being bothered by thoughts of 15. 

She was already dead. The place that once held traces of her had vanished without a trace.

In psychics, there is a concept called residual haunting¹A residual haunting is not a ghost, but a replay of a past event. This is like a “recording” that can play many times, and the story always unfolds in the same way. The person in a residual haunting is completely unaware and unaffected by your presence. This is because it isn’t a spirit or a ghost, but the echo of an event that once passed. (?????.

It refers to the lingering negative energy or attachment of a person, which can manifest in a haunting manner in a place.

That’s why one should not enter abandoned houses recklessly, as unknown spirits or souls might be lingering there.

Perhaps the lingering spirit of 15 remained in the old 2nd grade, Class 2 classroom.

However, that classroom no longer exists. The school building itself was demolished and rebuilt.

Naturally, the remnants of 15’s spirit would have vanished as well.

Thinking that way brought me a sense of peace.

Even when I learned that the class I would be in charge of this year was 2nd grade, Class 2.

I wasn’t greatly shaken by it.

The current Class 2 was not the same as back then.

As the new semester began, I stepped into the classroom as the homeroom teacher, not a student.

The energetic greetings from the children welcomed me, and I greeted them with a smiling face.

Most of the kids I had taught in the first grade were there.

I may not have known their names, but I recognized their faces.

As I turned my head, scanning through the faces of the children,

Among the familiar faces, I spotted an unfamiliar one.

” … Huh…?”

Upon closer look, it wasn’t an unfamiliar face at all.

Rather, it was a face I recognized.

Long bangs that covered the eyes. Fair skin and a petite face.

A somber atmosphere emanated from the closely detailed features.

It was a face I couldn’t forget, no matter how much I wanted to.

15.

That girl was 15.

The moment I saw her face, it felt like my heart stopped.

? ? ?

It was realistically impossible. She passed away 15 years ago.

Perhaps she just had a resemblance in appearance.

Even with that thought, the chills that ran down my spine didn’t go away.

There is a girl in the Class 2 classroom, the same class that had 15.

Is this a mere coincidence?

I cleared my throat a few times. I needed to calm my startled heart.

I asked the children to introduce themselves.

Cheerful kids stood up from their seats to start their introductions.

But my attention was completely focused on the girl who resembled 15.

I couldn’t hear the voices of the other children.

Finally, it was the girl’s turn.

Her movements as she stood up. Even her slow gestures resembled 15.

The gaze that looked straight ahead. The empty look in her eyes, unmistakably 15’s eyes.

I broke into a cold sweat. The classroom fell silent, and that brief moment felt incredibly long.

The girl seemed to have no intention of speaking.

“Teacher, she can’t speak. She’s mute.”

A child sitting in the front row chuckled and said so.

At that moment, I had to firmly shut my mouth. If I opened it, screams would have burst out.

I had never heard 15’s voice even once. She never spoke.

Could it be that this girl too…

As that thought crossed my mind, dizziness struck me.

The forgotten nightmare has risen from the grave.

No matter how much I told myself I was overreacting, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming anxiety.

What was even more chilling was that the girl’s attendance number was also 15.

I can’t remember how time passed on that day.

Like when I heard that 15 committed suicide.

My thoughts and the passage of time became entangled.

When the bell rang, I ran out of the classroom like a madman.

When I returned home, I poured out the events of the day to my wife.

In truth, I had never brought up the topic of 15 until now.

There was no need to bring up a story that didn’t need to be spoken of, and my wife had never asked about it either.

It was better to bury the dark past. It was an unwritten rule.

But now, I had to lay it all out.

Before 15’s suicide, she had left a ‘final message’ to me on a red note, and I had violated it.

My wife’s face turned pale in an instant.

It was the expected reaction.

But her following words were a shock in themselves.

“Do you remember… the note I sent you back then? It said ‘I like you’…”

“Oh. Of course, I remember.”

“That… I didn’t come forward, so the teacher got angry…”

That’s right. In the end, the person who came out in front of the teacher’s desk was not my wife (the class president) but 15.

“It may sound really weird, but… it’s not that I didn’t want to come forward at the time.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“The class was almost over, and the teacher’s expression was getting worse, so I was about to stand up. But…”

My wife swallowed her saliva. She was forcefully recalling a painful memory.

“… I couldn’t move my feet.”

“What?”

“It felt like something… was tightly holding onto my ankle and wouldn’t let go.”

It was an unbelievable claim. However, there was no hint of lying in my wife’s expression.

“While I was flustered, that child went out in my place.”

“… That can’t be true…”

“I was so shocked that I turned my head to see that child’s face…”

She… was smiling.

As soon as I heard those words, chills ran down my entire body.

From the beginning, claiming to be the culprit of the note was not something 15 would have done.

Why did she do that? What was it that grabbed my wife’s ankle at the time?

Just imagining the smiling face of 15 was enough to make me feel like I would faint any moment.

And then I felt a sense of unease.

The red note from 15.

Why did she leave it for me?

Simply because we were exchanging notes during class? If not, then…

“…..”

My wife, feeling a chill, hugged me tightly.

I held her tightly as well, but I couldn’t shake off the uneasiness.

The night grew deeper.

? ? ?

Morning attendance. Class time. And the end of the day.

I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on the girl who resembled 15.

The more I looked, the more I felt the resemblance.

The girl was wearing an aura that she could never give off unless she was the same person as 15.

She had the same trait of being silent and keeping her distance from other children.

This is a really strange thought, but…

Suddenly, I thought that maybe that girl could be the baby of 15.

If the baby had survived, she would have been the same age.

But the baby in my 15’s womb died with her.

To think that the baby who died 15 years ago would miraculously grow up and attend this school, it was a delusional and absurd fantasy.

3. 3. Give a name to the dead baby.

The request written on the red paper came to mind. Why did 15 ask me such a thing?

I was confused.

And the confusion slowly intensified.

While on my way home, I saw a familiar figure.

It was that girl. She was sitting cross-legged in front of the cafeteria, doing something.

Part of me wanted to ignore and pass by… but at the same time, I was curious.

Why was she staying at school until late and what was she doing?

The girl was petting a cat.

It had a scruffy and dirty fur coat.

A thin, black cat that resembled a dried anchovy.

The moment I saw it, I let out a brief gasp and fell silent.

15, who was petting a cat on the mountain. It looked exactly like that scene, completely overlapping with the girl now.

Even the cat itself had the same appearance as the one that got run over by a car 15 years ago.

“Ah… Ahh…”

I took a few steps back and tripped over a rock, falling on my butt.

Despite the loud noise, the girl didn’t turn around.

I heard the sound of a cat crying.

Startled by the sound that seemed to scratch my eardrums, I quickly left.

The meeting with the girl had long surpassed the realm of coincidence.

After becoming the homeroom teacher of Class 2-2, unsettling events started to occur one after another.

There were times when I could feel unpleasant gazes directed at me.

But I was never unhappy.

Good news has come to us couple.

My wife was pregnant.

Both my wife and I were genuinely delighted.

We both had been longing for a child.

The anxiety regarding that girl and 15 had, as if it were a lie, been forgotten.

Apart from being silent and unable to blend in with the class, there were no issues with the girl.

Although occasionally her actions reminded me of 15 and startled me, that was all.

As my wife’s due date approached, rumors began to spread around the classroom.

By the way, I never informed the children about the fact that my wife was pregnant.

I still don’t know how the rumors were leaked.

The children asked me various questions.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A pretty girl.”

“Wow. What name will you give her?”

“Well… uh.”

At that moment, I was taken aback.

The girl who had been staring into empty space was now glancing at me.

As if piercing me with a needle-like gaze.

? ? ?

Before leaving work.

I suddenly realized that I had left my laptop in the classroom.

I scratched my head and headed back to the classroom.

The bustling hallways that were lively just a few hours ago were now quiet.

I saw a plaque in front of me with 2-2 written on it.

“Huh?”

I didn’t see a lock on the classroom door.

Who was in charge of checking the doors today? I should give them a lecture tomorrow.

With that thought in mind, I opened the door.

To my surprise, there was a child left in the classroom.

It was the girl.

“W-What are you doing? Aren’t you going home?”

“…..”

The girl slowly turned her head and looked at me.

Then she stood up and walked towards me.

I felt my body stiffen.

With each step the girl took closer to me, the back of my neck grew colder.

I tried to move my feet, but I couldn’t even make a slight movement.

Something was tightly gripping my ankle.

‘It felt like something… was tightly holding onto my ankle and wouldn’t let go.’

Suddenly, my wife’s words came to my mind.

The girl who had come so close handed something to me.

It was… ahh…

… A red note.

I thought I shouldn’t accept it, but my trembling hand had already picked up the note.

I wanted to tightly close my eyes, but I couldn’t. My eyelids twitched.

With sweaty hands, I opened the note, and the girl smiled.

It was a faint, chilling smile.

Slowly, I moved my gaze onto the note.

My stiffened neck moved on its own accord.

The paper, red as blood, entered my field of vision.

The handwriting was crooked and messy.

And on the note, written on it was:

The name. Have you decided on it?

It was only then that I realized.

On the smiling face of the girl, there were faint bruises.

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  A residual haunting is not a ghost, but a replay of a past event. This is like a “recording” that can play many times, and the story always unfolds in the same way. The person in a residual haunting is completely unaware and unaffected by your presence. This is because it isn’t a spirit or a ghost, but the echo of an event that once passed.