Chapter 26: Rumors

The crimson embers faded slowly into the air.
The violent, chaotic aura dissolved, leaving only a wrecked classroom and four teenagers with racing hearts.

The eerie music that had haunted their ears vanished.
The invisible oppression lifted.
Everything returned to dead silence.

“Is it over…?” Chen Dongyang swallowed, sweeping his flashlight across the room, uncertainty in his voice.

The twisted shadow had been obliterated by Yin Qingle’s power, leaving no trace.
Physically, the threat seemed gone.

“Qingle, are you okay?” Yin Xiran asked, supporting her sister with concern.
Yin Qingle’s face was pale, but her emotions had steadied, though fear and confusion lingered in her eyes.
She shook her head, signaling she was fine.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Jiang Yuxin’s cold voice cut through the fleeting calm.
Her eyes, still sharp, scanned the room’s deep shadows.
“That thing appears with the music and vanishes when it stops. Until we find the music box, we can’t be sure it’s truly gone.”

Her words doused the spark of hope in their hearts.

“Jiang’s right,” Yin Xiran said calmly.
“That shadow is likely just a ‘medium’ or ‘projection.’ The music box it took is probably its true form. As long as it exists, the shadow could return.”

“Also,” Jiang Yuxin turned, her dark eyes glinting in the flashlight’s beam, “don’t forget why we’re here. We’re investigating a suicide, not chasing ghosts. We’ve confirmed the ‘inhuman thing’ exists, but how is it linked to the senior’s death? She was in this classroom before she died. What was she doing here? Did she come of her own will?”

Two questions emerged: Where was the music box now?
And who left the adult male’s leather shoe prints?

“That’s a real issue,” Jiang Yuxin said evenly.
“The owner of those male footprints might have taken the music box.”

“Then,” Yin Xiran’s eyes flashed sharply, “the man who left those prints is our prime suspect. He likely entered this classroom after the senior and took the music box.”

“So what now?” Yin Qingle asked softly.
“The man’s probably gone, and the music box is missing. Are we out of clues?”

“Not necessarily,” Yin Xiran said, her lips curling slightly.
“He left footprints, so he’s not an inhuman entity like the shadow. If he’s human, he’ll leave other traces. Let’s search carefully—maybe we’ll find something.”

Everyone agreed.

They split up to comb the chaotic classroom, more cautious this time.
Chen Dongyang’s flashlight lit every corner, while Yin Xiran used her abilities to shift heavy debris, checking for hidden clues.

Jiang Yuxin didn’t join the physical search.
She paced slowly, her eyes like a scanner, analyzing every scratch on the walls and stain on the floor.

Despite their efforts, they found nothing.
The classroom held only dust and debris, no new leads.

The search hit a dead end.

Just as discouragement set in, Yin Qingle, trailing her sister, noticed a dusty picture frame in a corner.
Beneath the grime, a vibrant photo peeked through the glass.
Curious, she wiped away the dust.

“Huh?” she gasped softly.

“What is it, Qingle?” Yin Xiran hurried over.

“This photo…” Yin Qingle pointed at the now-clear image, uncertain.
“I think I’ve seen it before.”

Chen Dongyang and Jiang Yuxin joined them.

Chen Dongyang aimed his flashlight at the frame.
It was an old award photo, showing a stage in an auditorium.
A banner above read, “Warm congratulations to our school choir for winning first prize in the city’s middle school choir competition.”
The date was 2004.

“You’re right,” Yin Xiran confirmed.
“It’s in the principal’s office, on a wall of honors, tucked in the least noticeable corner. I always wondered why a first-prize photo from over a decade ago sits alongside recent international Olympiad medals.”

She looked at the others, puzzled.
“But what does it mean? It’s just an award photo. How’s it tied to the suicide?”

“Not necessarily,” Chen Dongyang said, his expression odd, as if piecing together fragmented memories.

“What do you mean?” Yin Xiran raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his cryptic look.

“Nothing, just… old school rumors,” Chen Dongyang said, scratching his head to lighten the mood, adopting a ghost-story tone.
“You know the school’s famous ghost stories? Besides the bathroom mirror one, there’s another—about the choir.”

Yin Qingle tensed, while Jiang Yuxin watched him silently, waiting.

“Why does Classmate Chen know so many ghost stories?” Yin Xiran teased, more curious about him than the tale.

“Well…” Chen Dongyang scratched his cheek, embarrassed.
“My dad’s a writer. He got obsessed with folklore and weird stories for a while, saying he needed material for his work. He kept bugging me about school rumors, so I ended up learning a lot.”

“I see,” Yin Xiran nodded, a playful smile returning.
“Go on with the story.”

Chen Dongyang cleared his throat.
“Rumor has it…”