Unlike the sorority’s activity room, the storage room was extrely dark.
It was a long, narrow L-shaped space. The door was located at the corner of the “L,” while the window was set on the short side directly opposite the door—a thin, elongated opening that made one think of a prison ventilation slit.
With such a narrow window, very little light could enter the room to begin with. To make matters worse, mbers of the drama club had piled up a tall stack of set panels and other large props in front of it. The already poor lighting was completely blocked by the stacked boards, plunging the room into total darkness where you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.
Everly stood at the doorway and peered inside. The thick darkness within the room churned silently like ink, surging through the open doorway like the gaping maw of so ancient beast, trying to swallow everything that entered.
It was pitch-black, suffocating—heavy and deeply unpleasant.
In the distance, at the end of the road, the lights of a campus security patrol car slowly ca into view.
There was no ti to hesitate. Everly took a deep breath, stepped into the room, turned to shut the door behind her, and switched on the flashlight in her hand.
The only advantage of the poor lighting was that she could use her flashlight freely without worrying about being seen from outside.
However, turning on the ceiling light was clearly not an option—the light would leak out through the gap above the window and might attract the attention of patrol officers.
As the warm yellow beam of the flashlight lit up, the dense darkness in the room seed to retreat all at once. Everly could finally make out the arrangent inside.
The storage room door was right next to the wall on the left. Standing at the doorway, Everly could touch the white wall with a simple lift of her left hand. To her right stretched a space just over a ter wide, where large numbers of paint-splattered boards and various miscellaneous props were piled up along the wall.
These boards were the stage props frequently used by the drama club—trees, houses, castles on stage were all constructed from them.
Everly rembered that in the photo secretly taken by the school newspaper, the group of four b*llies had chased Bianca all the way to the corner of the room. So she didn’t linger by the door and imdiately headed toward the deepest part of the storage room.
To free up both hands and ensure she could draw a weapon instantly if danger arose, Everly used a chest-mounted light this ti.
It could be clipped onto her chest, backpack strap, or tactical gear. Compared to a regular handheld flashlight, it illuminated a wider area and maximized visibility of the surroundings. The downside, however, was that its beam wasn’t as focused—anything a bit farther away wouldn’t be clearly lit.
With the help of the chest light, Everly carefully avoided the jutting set panels at her feet, as well as the scattered stage props—swords, armor, candlesticks, and the like.
At first, she moved fairly quickly, but she soon realized that this wasn’t good for observing her surroundings.
As she walked briskly, the shifting beam of light caused the boards and props on her right to cast elongated, shrinking shadows along the junction of the wall and ceiling. At a glance, it felt as if she were surrounded by countless lurking, clawing ghosts.
In such darkness, it was easy for the mind to beco tense and suspicious. To steady herself and keep her awareness sharp yet controlled, Everly had to slow down. Every few steps, she would stop to scan her surroundings, occasionally checking the warning and self-defense items on her body.
The good news was that, so far, all her alert devices remained quiet—no abnormalities.
But she couldn’t relax just yet. There was still a corner ahead that hadn’t been checked.
Reaching the end of the passage, Everly tightened her grip on her defensive gear and carefully turned.
The beam from her chest light swept in an arc as she pivoted to the right. The bright light pushed back the thick darkness at the corner—and at the boundary between light and shadow, Everly saw a vague human figure.
Who’s there?!
Having been trained by her grandfather since childhood, Everly had developed a habit: no matter how frightened she felt, she would never scream. Screaming could easily expose her position and draw even greater danger—and it did nothing to solve the problem.
By comparison, forcing her body out of its frozen state as quickly as possible, grabbing a weapon to defend herself, or turning to flee—any of these options was far better than screaming.
Just like now. The mont her peripheral vision caught sight of the figure, Everly’s body reacted instinctively and began to step backward.
Horror Movie Survival Rule #28: Never turn your back on the enemy.
Too many cannon-fodder characters in horror films run with their backs to the threat, so when the enemy strikes, they don’t even see it coming—let alone have a chance to dodge.
Having learned from those fatal mistakes, Everly held a gun in one hand and gripped a cross in the other. Her eyes stayed locked on the figure ahead as she cautiously retreated, staying on guard.
One step, two steps, three steps…
Just as she was about to withdraw completely from the corner, she sensed sothing off and hesitated, stopping her retreat.
Was that figure ahead really a person?
Holding her breath, she studied the shadow carefully.
As she backed away, the figure seed to dissolve like ink dropped into a pool, blending seamlessly into the surrounding darkness until its outline could no longer be distinguished.
But she still rembered how it had stood there—silent, motionless—like a solidified wax statue shaped from a scoop of dense blackness taken from the night and slowly molded into form.
Instinctively, Everly reached out and touched the “Demon’s Eye” pendant on her wrist, along with the fang bracelet.
Neither the exorcising “Demon’s Eye” nor the dog spirit Buddy had given her any warning just now.
Encouraged by this, Everly gathered her courage and stepped forward a few paces toward the corner.
The warm yellow beam of the flashlight slowly pushed forward, finally driving away the darkness gathered around the figure. What appeared before Everly was a brownish-yellow wooden mannequin draped in black cloth.
The mannequin was likely used for displaying costus like court dresses. It was clearly old—beneath the cloth, the exposed wood showed peeling varnish, cracked and mottled with the marks of ti.
It had only a torso and limbs, no head, and no hands or feet to interfere with dressing. Its stick-like body was supported by a tal fra, standing upright at the edge of the passage. Soone, apparently with a an streak, had thrown a half-falling piece of black cloth over it. In the dim lighting, the shadow it cast looked almost indistinguishable from a real person at first glance.
So it really was just a false alarm…
Everly let out a breath of relief, though she also felt a flush of irritation.
She knew this kind of setup had a specific na in horror films—a “false scare setup” or “misleading suspense.”
Sothing appears highly suspicious, and through cara language the director piles on ominous hints. The audience, picking up on these signals, braces themselves—tense, holding their breath, ready for a scare at any mont. But when the reveal cos, it turns out to be nothing at all—just the wind blowing, or a stray cat passing by…
While this kind of technique can prolong tension and create a more oppressive atmosphere in films, Everly swore she really didn’t like it.
Her heart was still pounding wildly in her chest. She paused for a mont to steady herself, took a deep breath, and continued forward.
The mannequin didn’t make her lower her guard—instead, it made her even more tense.
Because so directors with a particularly an streak like to slip in a real scare after several fake ones—it’s the sa principle as “The Boy Who Cried Wolf.” The first scare is fake, the second one is fake too, and by the third ti, so viewers relax their guard, assuming it’s still a trick. So when a truly terrifying image suddenly jumps out at them, the shock they experience is doubled.
Of course, Everly isn’t the protagonist of a movie—at least, she hasn’t t anyone who seems like the “main character” yet. But that doesn’t an what she’s going through isn’t equivalent to “protagonist treatnt.” After all, horror protagonists usually have to investigate the origins of terrifying events, and once that investigation begins, a place like this storage room is almost unavoidable.
So it was entirely possible she was “taking the hit for the protagonist.”
Moving cautiously, pausing after every step, Everly soon reached a position level with the mannequin.
At this point, the far edge of the light already revealed the end of the corner passage. Several disassembled panels were stacked against the wall there. Judging from the bold paint on them, they were most likely part of so stage set.
Standing in the narrow passage, Everly looked around.
On the left side—the wall where the window was—set panels were stacked from the floor all the way up to the ceiling, and nothing seed particularly unusual. On the right side were all kinds of odd props: mannequins, treasure chests, windmills. As she swept her gaze across them, Everly even spotted a guillotine made of foam.
These props and panels had been sitting in the storage room for who knew how long, their surfaces covered in a thick layer of dust.
It was precisely this layer of dust that allowed Everly to quickly identify what had been touched recently—the panel blocking the end of the passage.
Panels like these were usually made thin and lightweight for easy transport. Even soone as physically weak as Orff could carry one on his own.
Everly spotted several ssy fingerprints along the side of the panel. So were large, so small; so fresh, others older. They didn’t look like they ca from the sa person. But even the oldest prints had only the faintest layer of dust on them.
This ant that more than one person had moved this panel recently.
Was Bianca among them?
Everly raised her phone and first took a photo of the panel in front of her, along with the fingerprints near the edge. Then, carefully avoiding those prints, she gripped one side of the panel with her gloved hand and gently pushed, lifting it aside—
The mont the top panel shifted open, at the end of the passage, Everly ca face to face with soone holding a flashlight.
“!!!”
A double scare!
If there had been an observer, they would have noticed that at that instant, Everly’s pupils contracted sharply—shrinking to pinpoints.
Although her expression remained as calm and indifferent as ever, lips pressed tight, there was no denying it: at the sudden sight of the figure, a fear that seed to pierce straight into her soul triggered a surge of adrenaline. Her heart pounded wildly, her blood pressure spiked.
Even her body reacted instinctively—raising the gun in her hand.
At the sa mont, she realized that the person opposite her had also raised a gun—mirroring her movent exactly… No, looking closer, it wasn’t just the movent. The person’s height, build, even clothing were identical to hers.
Yes—that was right. It was just a mirror.
Realizing this, Everly’s tightly wound nerves eased for a brief mont.
But reason quickly pulled her out of that false sense of relief—
Just because it wasn’t a person or a monster, but a mirror… did that really an it was safe?
The reflection in the mirror stood less than an arm’s length away, face-to-face with Everly, the chest-mounted light still casting a steady glow.
Because of that light, the figure in the mirror appeared slightly blurred, while the darkness behind it seed even thicker by contrast—almost tangible, heavy, oppressive, slowly shifting.
At the sa ti, Everly could feel her heartbeat growing faster and faster, more and more frantic. A chilling cold spread over her like an invisible net, enveloping her completely, until even the breath she exhaled seed to carry a biting frost.
This… this was her sixth sense sounding the alarm!
This mirror was extrely dangerous!!!
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