On my first day after transferring to No. 23 Angel Street, I discovered the secret of the school.
Every night at midnight, mysterious sobbing can be heard coming from the old classroom building.
Students whisper all kinds of rumors: the campus belle who vanished thirty years ago, a statue that moves, and another school hidden inside the mirrors.
Then I found a black book in the library that listed every student's name.
My name was clearly written on the list of the dead.
And my homeroom teacher quietly told me, “This school doesn't have a library.”
