At this stage of events, the best approach would actually be to contact an official organization—like the Federal Bureau of Special Affairs Investigation (SAI), which had once investigated the “Butterfly Fall Incident.”
However, this official agency cannot be found at all on the federal governnt’s institutional search platform; it belongs to a secretive branch. Its investigators operate in an equally mysterious manner. Ever since, Everly had tried to request their contact information, but the investigators said that they needed to act covertly and could not disclose any details. They would reach out to her proactively if they deed it necessary.
In short, it seems they treated Everly as an ordinary civilian, fearing harassnt, and therefore refused to provide any contact information.
This directly led to Everly now facing a major crisis without a reliable organization to help resolve it.
anwhile, the “Lucky Relief” was spreading through the entire campus at an extrely rapid pace.
Its effects were nothing short of imdiate.
After completing the luck-borrowing ritual, as long as the plaster figure was carried on one’s person, the holder would fall into an addictive state of omniscience. In this state, a brain that had been sluggish and dull would suddenly beco astonishingly sharp and perceptive. Problems that previously could not be solved would, upon seeing the question, imdiately spark relevant solving ideas—or even yield the answer outright. Things that had seed confusing and opaque before would suddenly beco perfectly clear, and a little thought would reveal their deeper aning.
Beyond knowledge and wisdom, the “Lucky Relief” also bestowed boundless artistic inspiration upon its holder. For painters, simply picking up a brush would cause their fingers to move spontaneously across the paper, sketching artworks that combined both artistry and depth. For musicians, playing an instrunt would automatically trigger beautiful, never-before-heard lodies in their ears, inspiring them to compose stunning new pieces. Even beginners in photography, by simply raising their cara and snapping a shot, could capture landscapes where composition, color, and lighting approached perfection…
If those who borrowed Paimon’s power were considered “cheaters,” then Everly and Misha were now just ordinary people who had accidentally wandered into a world full of cheat codes. Even though both of them had decent grades in class, they were now overshadowed by the surge of strong students in every field, standing out only for their diocrity—almost like “sidewalk extras.”
Everly was fine; she could stay calm. Misha, however, was feeling uneasy.
In November and early December, Misha had taken another SAT exam each month. In November, due to insufficient preparation, she scored below 1300. The December results weren’t out yet, but she had a bad feeling after the test and wasn’t confident.
If her December scores didn’t et expectations, the next SAT opportunity wouldn’t be until March of next year. That long stretch would not only be exhausting but would also take up a lot of ti, preventing Misha from fully focusing on her schoolwork.
Normally, having other struggling classmates around would have eased Misha’s anxiety. But now, overnight, everyone around her had beco “math prodigies,” able to achieve their desired scores in a single test. She was left alone, slogging through revisions, relying on Everly to carve out ti to tutor her in math. Naturally, she felt frustrated.
Still, despite the imbalance, Misha listened to advice. Even though all her friends had used the “Lucky Relief” and offered to get one for her, she firmly refused to resort to this kind of evil-god thod.
And in fact, she had been wise to do so.
On December 17, Gina—one of the first four to use the “Lucky Relief” and a mber of the Supernatural Research Club—was the first to experience its backlash.
It had been a perfectly ordinary day.
The students, as usual, finished their English class. When the bell rang, everyone stood up, packed their things, and prepared to move to the next classroom. At that mont, Gina’s friend Emma suddenly noticed that Gina, sitting next to her, had her head bowed and remained perfectly still, showing no intention of getting up.
“Gina, what’s wrong? Are you asleep?”
Emma pushed her friend’s shoulder in confusion. Through Gina’s thin down jacket, her touch felt stiff and heavy—so rigid that she couldn’t budge her.
“Gina? Gina?”
Emma held her hand in front of Gina’s face and waved it experintally.
“…Uh… guh… c-cold…”
A faint, broken voice ca from Gina’s direction, light and weak, as if separated by a thick pane of glass. If most of the class hadn’t already left, Emma might have missed it entirely.
“Cold? Gina, it’s a sunny day today—the classroom isn’t cold at all!”
Thinking her friend was feeling unwell, Emma bent over with concern and pushed aside the long hair that fell over Gina’s face.
Beneath the hair was a face as white as plaster.
No—“as white as plaster” wasn’t accurate. That was a plaster face.
The soft, human skin had sohow been replaced by a white, coarse-textured layer of plaster. The areas that should have been eyes, nose, and mouth now appeared completely flat.
Even with a face where not a single feature could be seen, Gina stubbornly kept speaking under Emma’s horrified gaze.
She whispered, “C-cold… so cold…”
The plaster on her face was still thin and hadn’t fully “set.” It clung like a tight white plastic film over her flesh. As Gina spoke, Emma could clearly see the plaster over her mouth moving up and down, revealing the faint contours of her lips and tongue beneath.
No wonder… no wonder Gina’s voice sounded so muffled—it was because her face was covered in plaster…
When a person experiences extre terror, the brain can suddenly short-circuit, and they forget how to scream.
Emma just stood there, dumbfounded, watching as Gina’s movents beneath the plaster grew slower and slower, and her voice weaker and weaker. Eventually, the thick plaster fully solidified, creeping up along Gina’s hair. In less than five minutes, the girl in front of her had gone from a living human being to a faceless plaster statue.
The classroom had no more lessons after this, and the teacher had stepped out for other matters.
Emma stood alone in the vast, empty room, panicking. She reached out to touch and push the plaster figure, trying desperately to convince herself that it was so cruel prank. But the texture under her hands was far too real—rough, hard, and icy cold. The chill made her shiver involuntarily.
“Tap, tap.” Suddenly, the sound of heels striking the floor ca from behind her. Emma turned her head and saw a young woman with long golden hair, a beautiful face, and a graceful figure, who had sohow approached silently.
Emma’s eyes lit up.
“Ms… Ms. Berlin! Gina—she suddenly turned into plaster… please, save her… save her quickly…” Thinking of the woman’s expertise in sorcery, a flicker of hope appeared in the girl’s eyes.
Sobbing, she pleaded for help from Ms. Berlin. But instead of the warmth and kindness she rembered from previous encounters, Berlin glanced at her indifferently. She walked two steps forward to Gina, now frozen in plaster, bent down, and reached into Gina’s plastered pocket to retrieve the plaster figure that had been placed inside.
Emma was standing very close, so she could see clearly that the plaster figure in Berlin’s hand looked nothing like the ones she had seen before.
The figure in the teacher’s hands was colored. It had no crown; the hair and eyes were painted a warm brown, the lips pink, the skin pale, with a nose and mouth. It wore a light gold thin down jacket, jeans, and Martin boots. Even the small accessories on the clothing were ticulously detailed.
Emma’s expression froze in shock—the little plaster figure’s outfit, hair color, eye color, and that strikingly familiar face were identical to Gina’s before she had turned into plaster!
Moreover—whether it was Emma’s imagination or not—she saw the figure twist its face in a look of pain, and stiffly reach an arm toward her in midair.
“Teacher, this is…”
Her hands trembled as she instinctively reached out, wanting to grab the figure and rescue her friend, who kept crying for help. But Berlin moved far faster than Emma expected. Their hands crossed in midair, and Emma grasped nothing.
As for Berlin, after taking the plaster figure into her hands, she bared her lips—bright red—revealing two rows of dense, protruding, shark-like fangs, glistening with greedy saliva. She leaned toward the head of the plaster figure and suddenly clamped down.
“Crack!” The crisp sound of breaking echoed. The little plaster figure’s raised hand slowly drooped and stopped moving.
“Ah… ahhh…” Emma’s friend seed to realize what had happened. She covered her mouth with her hands, stepped back, and large tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared at the woman with a mix of fear and hatred. “You… you ate Gina!”
“What nonsense,” Berlin said with a cruel smile. “It’s just chocolate.”
She bit down on the still-bleeding plaster head, bringing it close to Emma. Then, right in front of her, she clenched her upper and lower teeth together, “crack,” crushing the entire head. Red and white fluids splattered from the shattered skull. Because she was so close, Emma could even sll the stench wafting from Berlin’s mouth—a strong, tallic mix of blood and earth…
“Crunch, crunch.” Berlin no longer bothered to intimidate Emma. She cupped her jaw, eyes half-closed, lost in the sensation of chewing the figure’s head. With each movent of her lips, thick fluid and skull fragnts stuck to her gleaming fangs, making her appearance even more horrifying and uncanny.
Why had she ever thought that Ms. Berlin was kind…?
Emma wanted to look away, to turn and leave the classroom. But her legs, paralyzed by sheer terror, refused to move, stiff as stone.
So, with tears streaming down her face, Emma was forced to watch as Ms. Berlin devoured Gina’s head, neck, torso, and legs—bit by bit—until even the blood that ran between her fingers was completely licked clean by the woman’s bright red tongue.
“Delicious…” After finishing, Berlin lifted her hand and lightly patted Emma’s cheek. Leaning close, she whispered in a hoarse voice, “You should mature quickly, too.”
With that, she twisted her slender waist and left the classroom with all the elegance and allure of a predator, leaving Emma alone, cowering beside a desk, trembling.
…
The news of Gina turning into a plaster statue quickly spread throughout the school.
Her friend Emma, crying, brought classmates and the horoom teacher to see the abruptly appearing plaster figure in the classroom, recounting everything she had witnessed.
“Actually, after Gina got that plaster figure, she started acting strange. She would zone out for longer periods, and in the mornings, she complained that her body felt heavy and she didn’t want to move. I thought she was just unwell, so I didn’t think much of it… But what should I do? I also used the Lucky Relief, and lately, I sotis feel my joints stiffen, and running isn’t as smooth as before. Does that an I’m about to turn into a plaster statue too…?”
“How could a person suddenly turn into a plaster statue? You must be overthinking.” The horoom teacher was new and had no knowledge of Berlin’s “scide” ten years ago. He shook his head after hearing Emma’s story, assuming she was just joking with him.
“Yeah, this plaster figure is probably just Gina’s prank. Emma, don’t be fooled…”
“Where did that troublemaker Gina go? When we find her, we’re going to make her pay.”
The classmates patted Emma on the shoulder, trying to console her.
Though their words were ant to be comforting, their expressions were tense.
Everyone had seen Gina’s progress on the SAT firsthand. So, when Gina started spreading the Lucky Relief, most of the class had tried it and, using the luck-borrowing ritual, achieved the scores they wanted. The sudden appearance of the plaster figure, combined with Emma’s description of her physical condition, made the situation sound anything but a prank.
In fact, many of them had recently experienced similar physical issues themselves, which planted a deep fear of the future in their hearts.
But people are like this—they refuse to admit their mistakes until death is literally at their doorstep.
“We… we have to do sothing… That post was right. It’s an absolute taboo that shouldn’t be touched. If we don’t want to die, we need to find so professionals to deal with Berlin!” Emma gritted her teeth, speaking with righteous anger.
To her surprise, very few responded.
“…But if we do that, does it an we can’t use the Lucky Relief anymore?”
“I finished the ritual too late; I couldn’t make it for this December SAT. Maybe I’ll wait until after March’s test?”
“I haven’t even had ti to participate in the chemistry competition yet…”
The students mumbled, then all instinctively changed the subject.
Getting the grades they dread of without any real effort, winning the praise of teachers and parents, and receiving the envious admiration of everyone around them—once soone had experienced this, it was almost impossible to let go.
Besides, none of them had seen Gina actually turn into a plaster statue themselves. What if it was all just a joke?
What if?
User Comments
0 comments from readers