Judy and I went to fetch Cal after his French exam was over. He looked as gloomy as if he’d failed it. Surrounded by kids who’d made a big deal out of a single test, I felt my mood lift a little.To cheer him up, I bought us ice cream—after he licked a scoop of vanilla, he declared himself unfazed by the exam results—and we strolled across the quad. Judy still had another test, so she headed back to school quickly, but with all our exams done for the day, Cal and I found a shady spot in the tennis-court stands and sat down.Shielded from the sun, we noticed Jérôme riding past on horseback. It looked like two in the afternoon. Clad in his equestrian gear, he rode slowly across the lawn. We fell silent and watched him for a while.Keeping my eyes on Jérôme, I asked, “You said you practically lived in the stables sculpting that wooden horse, didn’t you?”Cal answered, “Yeah. I made it this spring. I thought it’d be cold in there, but the stable was surprisingly warm.”“So you must’ve seen Jérôme a lot, then?”I asked casually, though my heart raced. His reply came quickly: “Oh, yeah. No matter how cold it is, Jérôme rides every day.”But then Cal hesitated. A shiver ran down my spine. He’d hesitated when talking about Jérôme? A sense of foreboding washed over me. Was everyone in this school somehow entangled with Jérôme?“I wasn’t honest in the studio this morning,” Cal said, sounding embarrassed. “I pretended not to know him. That wasn’t true.”“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice steady even as I crushed the paper cup that had held my ice cream.“I told you I went to the stables whenever I had a chance. Jérôme rides every day. When our timings matched, I ran into him often. But we only nodded at each other—I never actually spoke his name. Still, watching the horses made me notice him.” Cal’s voice wavered with uncertainty. Yet there was no hint of malice in him. It was just intuition, but I instantly relaxed and waited patiently for him to continue.“Raymond, are you close with Jérôme?”I replied casually, “Not really. I’m the shy type.”Cal fell silent again. Jérôme had long since disappeared from view. Cal watched other students crossing the quad before finally meeting my eyes. He still looked uneasy, but spoke with conviction: “You shouldn’t get any closer to Jérôme. He’s… he’s dangerous.”For the first time, I was curious about what Cal had seen. And when he finally told me his story, it changed everything I’d thought about him. Until then, he’d been no more than a pawn in the game—afterward, he became someone who could move the game’s pieces.When Cal first showed up in {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} the stable to sculpt, the horses didn’t like him much. Before carving, he tried to befriend the wary creatures: feeding them, cleaning stalls, and gently stroking their noses. Soon they stopped minding him sitting in a corner sketching.Once his sketches were done, Cal began the real sculpting, lingering silently in the corner. Even sensitive souls like Jérôme eventually forgot Cal was there.The incident happened in the third week. One rainy day, Cal lay half-buried in straw, as if he’d slipped into the pile and stayed perfectly still. The cold wind blew at the stable entrance, so he’d made himself comfortable on the inner straw bed. While sketching, he grew drowsy and crawled into the warm, soft straw, dozing off. It was only natural that Jérôme, returning astride his horse, didn’t notice Cal.Cal awoke at the sound of hooves. He paused, unsettled—he and Jérôme weren’t close, and Jérôme’s royal status was common knowledge here. Cal chose to stay hidden in the straw.Then came a chilling noise. Hard to describe, but enough to make his spine tingle. Peeking over the straw, Cal realized it was a cracking sound in the air. Jérôme, whip in hand, had halted at each horse and cracked it menacingly close. The lash never touched them, but it whipped so close that the horses recoiled, nickering in fear. Cal watched, mouth agape, as Jérôme used the whip to threaten, then always followed with a gentle stroke across the horse’s neck. That sudden shift—from potential gore to tenderness—was the most unsettling thing of all.For a week afterward, Cal hid in the straw every day, waiting for Jérôme’s return. Each time, the same grotesque ritual played out. And each time, Cal’s dread grew.One day, Cal realized: what if Jérôme had noticed him spying? That instant dread sent him packing. He stopped going to the stables altogether.By the time he finished, the western sky was blazing red. I hadn’t interrupted once; I listened and watched: his eyes, his expression, his voice, even the tension in his hands and shoulders. There was no deceit. What he’d felt was real. Astonishingly, Jérôme had slipped up—and Cal, by sheer luck, hadn’t been caught. Had Jérôme realized Cal was watching, Cal might’ve become the next victim.When Cal fell silent, I spoke first. “I see. Actually, I thought Jérôme was strange, too—using his own room alone and all. And I heard six people before me were transferred out of my room?”“What do you mean?” Cal looked puzzled.“Well, I’m in Room 401 now. Someone transferred out this spring—Nicholas, I think—so I moved into 401.”Cal’s face turned grave. “Raymond, no one’s transferred out of 401 in a year. It’s been full since you arrived.”I couldn’t believe it. I asked again and again. Surprised by my insistence, Cal frowned but confirmed, “Besides Hugh, I’ve never even introduced myself to the others in 401, but yes—that room has had only three occupants for a year. You can ask anyone. Hugh’s friends’ll tell you the same.”I jumped up and ran down the stands. Cal called after me, but I headed straight to the library instead of answering. He followed, bewildered.The library was dark everywhere except for the rows of reading desks. I grabbed a lamp and went to the records section. Though the archive room was pitch-black, I’d been there before and located the shelf with the dorm-entry logs in no time. Cal quietly asked what I was looking for, but I didn’t answer as I pulled out the latest volume.I flipped from the back: the last entry was my file. I skimmed forward: Tim. Thomas. Damon. Matt. And then… nothing.“It’s gone…” I muttered.“What is?” Cal whispered.“There should’ve been a file here…” I said, sounding dazed.I pulled out all three volumes of the record, rifled through my notes, and checked every date in every book. Cal sat quietly beside me, clearly sensing something was very wrong.Under the lamp’s glow, I examined the three volumes. Just as that first night in the records room, a chill ran through me. Every predecessor’s file, the ones blacked out in ink—gone without a trace. No torn pages, nothing. As if everything I’d discovered was just an illusion. My vision swam.Am I going mad?Panic gripped me. Nothing made sense. What was real? What was false? Was I even awake? Dreaming? Hallucinating? I felt on the verge of collapse. What had George and I talked about earlier today? Jérôme? Simon and Hugh—were they real?Cal turned to me. His face, half-lit by the lamp, stared. Then it curved into a grotesque grin—just the corners of his lips twitching in a snake-like smile that was shockingly like Jérôme’s. His eyes glinted. This wasn’t Cal. It was Jérôme.Oh, damn it—it wasn’t Cal! It was Jérôme! When had he…?I lunged at that smiling face, hands at his throat. Jérôme just watched, still smiling. This wasn’t real. Where was I? Dream? Hallucination?Then I realized I’d been living in perfect silence. There had been no sound—until that silence was shattered. The noise sliced through, heavy yet sharp. At last, I heard the scream I’d been hearing in my head—my own voice:“Save me! Save me! Save me! Save me! Save me!”When I opened my eyes, I saw a strange stone wall. On the deliberately rough ceiling was a barely visible fresco. I blinked at the painting—Christ with a halo, half-erased, looking uncanny. The golden sunset of Golgotha above him had faded to a mere suggestion of color.I lay staring until I sat up. Where was I? How had I come here? The blanket slipped off my body.I had never seen this room before. It was clearly part of the school, but I’d never been here. Thanks to a lamp by a nearby sofa, I could make out unfamiliar items: piles of sawdust, a box of dried leaves, stacks of wooden blocks—none of it made any sense. Rather than think about it, I climbed off the sofa.I could stand without difficulty. No pain. But I couldn’t recall how I’d gotten here or the last thing I remembered before losing consciousness. My head felt both tangled and clear. Outside the window it was dark. I saw the door.I stood before it, but lacked the courage to turn the knob. I didn’t know why. Opening it felt like it would unleash something terrible. Staying here seemed safe. But something compelled me to grasp the knob. Before I knew it, I’d swung the door wide.Bright, warm light poured in. I blinked against it. A boy who’d been sitting in a chair looked up and hurried toward me.“Hey, you’re awake. You okay?” he asked.“Want some water? Just a sec.”Bustling about, he found a bottle and handed it to me. I realized how thirsty I was. I must’ve been silent for ages. I downed the water in one gulp and felt my mind clear.“How are you feeling, Raymond?” Cal asked gently.It was Cal. This was the annex club workshop. Relief washed over me. Memories flooded back: the library, sitting with Cal in the stands, talking to George and getting that pill and the key, and everything that led up to… Jérôme.I touched my forehead. The bandage was there. Overwhelmed by relief, my strength drained. I collapsed; Cal caught me. He looked at me with concern. His eyes were light brown—how could I have confused them with Jérôme’s snake-green ones? The dust of the record room and the bizarre events had clouded my mind.“What happened?” I asked.“I don’t remember anything,” Cal said.“Hmm… from what point?”

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