In the Spiritual Ghost School, mirrors held a special meaning — each mirror represented a person, and behind every mirror lay a hidden memory.
The scene before him left
"Mirrors represent memories, and memories conceal secrets. The Door Pusher was prying into the past of every vengeful ghost and outsider behind these doors."
The door and the wall were exactly the same color, nearly merging into one. The outside was plastered with notices and photographs, so after the Door Pusher's death, no one would have ever guessed there was a room hidden behind this wall of shame.
"This Door Pusher had rather particular tastes. Was it the despair behind the doors that twisted him, or did he abandon himself and open his arms to embrace the abyss?"
Chen Ge was curious about every single Door Pusher, and the one from the Spiritual Ghost School was the only one who had died — making him an exceptionally valuable subject of study.
"Stay close to me." Chen Ge grabbed
"I wasn't lying to you — this really is the principal's office you were looking for. The Door Pusher was the master of the Ghost School, and this room is the deepest hidden room within it." The ragdoll seemed to be playing on words, but Chen Ge was captivated by the scene inside and didn't even notice the fresh blood writing that had appeared on the doll's body.
The room was small, with no windows and no ventilation. The only connection to the outside world was that single door.
"This is the most oppressive room I've ever seen."
"Don't underestimate these mirrors." Chen Ge carefully picked up a shard of mirror from the floor and held it in front of his eyes. But what the mirror reflected was not himself.
The surface was completely empty. It looked eerie, and in a way, pitiful.
"What makes the Ghost School different from other locations comes down to one key element — the appearance of mirrors as a special object. The secrets of the mirrors should all be within this room."
The floor was impossible to navigate. Mirrors and mirror shards were piled on top of one another, overlapping in a tangled mass — you were part of me, and I was part of you — much like the Ghost School's collective will overhead, where everyone's memories and consciousness merged together, inseparable.
"I've brought you to the principal's office, just as promised. I'm being very sincere." The ragdoll hooked a finger around Chen Ge's clothing, tugging his gaze downward toward itself.
"Mm." Chen Ge's response was a single syllable. He was fixated on a patch of mirrors in the far corner of the room.
Most of the mirrors in the room were shattered, their edges jagged and uneven, their surfaces smeared with dried blood and stained with grime. But in the corner, one mirror remained perfectly intact. It emitted a faint red glow, and blood flowed ceaselessly across its surface, as though something was desperately trying to come out.
"Whose mirror could that be? It looks like a small hand mirror — the kind a girl would use. Could it be Chang Wen Yu's?"
A thought suddenly struck Chen Ge. If every student in the Ghost School corresponded to a mirror, was it possible that
He shook his head and banished the idea. "Zhang Ya killed even the Door Pusher — why would she ever leave her own mirror behind?"
This only deepened his curiosity. "Xu Yin, go bring that mirror over here."
Chen Ge took the ragdoll from its hold, wary that it might be a trap. He preemptively prevented the doll from making contact with anything in the room.
At Chen Ge's command, Xu Yin walked toward the corner. But the moment his foot touched the mirrors on the floor, every single mirror in the room began to bleed. Cracks raced across their surfaces one after another, and the mirrors gaped open like hungry mouths, as if trying to swallow Xu Yin whole.