The rain had been falling since morning—thin, cold sheets that turned the schoolyard into a glistening mirror of puddles. By evening, the teachers were gone, the lights were dim, and Hillview High stood like a sleeping beast under the storm.
But six figures still lingered at the back gate.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Jet asked, her voice barely louder than the drizzle.
Tony flashed his crooked grin. "Of course not. That's what makes it fun."
Beside him, Kim adjusted his hoodie, glancing over his shoulder. "It's locked," he said, tugging at the rusted chain on the gate. "Guess the rumor didn't come with a key."
Tin knelt, pulling a small wire from his pocket. "Relax. I got this."
Roger crossed her arms, the rain soaking through her jacket. "We're seriously breaking into our own school because of a story?"
Samy's eyes were bright despite the gloom. "Not just a story. People say the old music room lights turn on at midnight. And that someone plays the piano—someone who's been dead for ten years."
"Urban legend," Jet muttered. "Every school's got one."
"Then we'll prove it's fake," Tony said, watching the lock snap open in Tin's hand. "Or maybe we'll find something real."
They slipped through the gate one by one, their sneakers splashing through the puddles as the heavy doors of Hillview creaked open. Inside, the halls were dark except for the faint glow of emergency lights reflecting off the wet floor. Their footsteps echoed—a hollow rhythm that made even Tony go quiet.
"Creepy…" Roger whispered.
The walls seemed to listen.
They moved through the familiar corridors—past lockers and classrooms that felt strangely foreign now, as if the building had been waiting for them. The air smelled of chalk and damp paper. Somewhere, a drop of water fell from the ceiling and splashed onto the tile.
"Music room's on the third floor," Kim said. "Let's make it quick."
As they climbed, the storm outside grew louder. The windows rattled, and lightning flashed across the sky. For a moment, Samy thought she saw something move in the reflection—something standing in the hallway behind them. But when she turned, there was only darkness.
They reached the music room door. It was half-open.
Inside, the grand piano stood in the middle of the room, its black surface gleaming under a faint, unnatural light. No one spoke. The air was still. Even the rain seemed to pause.
Then, from nowhere, a note played.
A single, low C.
Tin froze. "Who did that?"
"I—I didn't touch anything," Jet stammered.
The note echoed, long and trembling. Then another. And another. The melody built slowly, hauntingly, as if the piano were breathing on its own.
Tony took a cautious step forward. "Okay… that's not funny."
"Guys…" Samy whispered. "Look at the floor."
The reflection in the rainwater dripping through the ceiling wasn't theirs anymore. The six faces staring back from the puddle were different—paler, older, and somehow wrong.
Before anyone could move, the lights flickered once—and the world tilted.
The room twisted, the air stretching like glass being bent. A shadow fell across them, long and endless, and when it touched their feet, the floor vanished beneath them.
The rain, the piano, the hallway—all gone.
They landed hard on cold stone, under a sky that wasn't a sky at all—just swirling darkness filled with faint whispers.
Kim groaned, pushing himself up. "Where… are we?"
Samy looked around. The building was gone. The school was gone. But in the distance, through the mist, stood something that looked just like Hillview High—except older, broken, and completely silent.
Roger swallowed. "I think… we found the truth."