Uncle Xu hovered at Chen Ge's elbow, his weathered face creased with genuine worry as the five young visitors signed their disclaimers. "We're in the business of fun, son," he muttered under his breath, keeping his voice low so only Chen Ge could hear. "Let them enter happy, escort them out safe and smiling. That's how you build a reputation that lasts. None of this hospital nonsense." His eyes flicked nervously toward the stack of twenty thousand yuan on the counter, then back to Chen Ge's calm expression. The old park worker had seen too many of Chen Ge's "controlled" experiments end with ambulances and screaming headlines. He placed a reassuring hand on Chen Ge's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Promise me you'll keep it light this time."
Chen Ge turned with an easy smile, patting Uncle Xu's hand. "Okay, okay, don't worry. Everything is completely within my control." His tone was warm, almost playful, but his eyes held that familiar glint—the one that said the black phone's missions were already in motion. Uncle Xu sighed, unconvinced but trusting the boy who had turned a dying attraction into the park's only lifeline. With a final shake of his head, he returned to the ticket booth, clutching the cash stack like a talisman. Chen Ge watched him go, then led the five excited visitors down the dimly lit corridor toward the underground parking lot, the wooden boards sealing Mu Yang High School looming ahead like a gateway to another world.
"Please sign these disclaimers first," Chen Ge said, handing each visitor a crisp sheet. "All the rules and warnings are listed. Take your time to read." The forms were official-looking, complete with liability waivers and bolded cautions about heart conditions and psychological readiness. Wang Hailong, the tall, confident leader of the group, barely glanced at his before scrawling his name in bold strokes. At roughly 1.85 meters, he towered over Chen Ge, his casual swagger radiating the easy assurance of someone used to getting his way. "This is pretty official," he laughed, passing the pen to his brother. Wang Wenlong, slightly shorter and more reserved, signed more carefully, his eyes lingering on the fine print. The contrast between the brothers was striking—Hailong loud and brash, Wenlong quiet and observant.
"Boss, you're not going to back out on the reward money, right?" Wang Wenlong asked, his tone half-joking but edged with genuine caution. "If someone actually finds all twenty-four nametags, you'll pay up?" Chen Ge's smile never wavered. "Of course. My reputation's built on keeping promises." Dou Menglu, Hailong's girlfriend, leaned forward to sign next, her thin shirt and hot pants drawing eyes, the butterfly tattoo on her collarbone fluttering with each breath. Her handwriting was a scrawl, barely legible. "Five of us," she said with a playful grin. "If we find all the tags, that's 4,000 each, right?" Chen Ge nodded enthusiastically. "Not a penny less. The goal is fun, after all." The fifth visitor, Pei Hu, a heavyset boy with a nervous laugh, signed quickly, while Xia Meili, short and perpetually frowning, scribbled her name with quiet intensity, her presence almost overshadowed by Menglu's vibrancy.
Wang Hailong dropped the pen with a flourish. "Deal! I'll drag all my brothers here next time—free advertising for you." Chen Ge's smile widened, genuinely touched. "Thank you in advance." Such earnest support was rare; most visitors came for thrills, not loyalty. "One last thing," he added, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. "Don't linger in the sealed classroom. And no phones—no photos, no videos. You might catch something… unfriendly." The group laughed it off, but Chen Ge's warning carried weight. He led them to the end of the corridor, pulling back the heavy boards with a dramatic scrape. The tunnel beyond yawned dark and cold, the air thick with the scent of damp concrete and something faintly metallic.
"Underground?" Pei Hu squeaked, peering into the gloom. A sudden scuffle of movement echoed from the darkness, and he yelped, stumbling back. "F*ck, what was that?" Wang Hailong grabbed his friend's jiggling arm, laughing. "Relax, Pei Hu, it's all fake. Scared already? Hide behind Meili if you need to." Xia Meili rolled her eyes. "Can we just go?" she snapped, though her voice betrayed a tremor. Chen Ge hid his amusement. "Countdown starts once you're all inside," he promised, phone ready. The five stepped into the tunnel, flashlights bobbing, banter fading into nervous whispers. Chen Ge slid the boards shut behind them, the click final. Countdown? What countdown? If they walked out on their own two legs, that would already be a victory.
Inside the dressing room, Chen Ge transformed. The Doctor Skull-cracker outfit slid over his frame like a second skin, the heavy coat smelling faintly of antiseptic and old blood. The grotesque skin mask settled over his face, its stitched seams pulling his expression into something monstrous yet eerily human. He moved to the control room, fingers dancing over the console. Black Friday's relentless pulse tempted him, but Uncle Xu's warning echoed. Service industry—customer first. He lowered the volume, swapped the track, and queued Wedding Dress instead, its haunting melody soft and deceptive. Repetition bored visitors; variety kept them off-balance. Satisfied, he leaned back, watching the monitors flicker to life, the five tiny figures already swallowed by Mu Yang High School's corridors. The game had begun.
The heavy wooden boards thudded shut overhead, sealing out the last sliver of surface light. The five visitors stood clustered in the narrow underground corridor, the air already colder and heavier than it had any right to be. Half-opened classroom doors gaped on either side like hungry mouths, and from somewhere deeper came the soft, unmistakable shuffle of feet dragging across dusty tile. Pei Hu instinctively shuffled backward until his shoulder bumped Xia Meili. "This place is huge," he whispered, voice already trembling. "Like… way bigger than it looked from the outside."
"Isn't that the point?" Wang Wenlong answered, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off nerves. He was the slimmest of the group, sharp-eyed and analytical. "Twenty-four nametags hidden somewhere in here—if it was tiny, we'd be done already. Come on, five heads are better than one. We grab the tags, collect our four thousand each, then hot pot and karaoke on Brother Long." He flashed a quick grin and took the first bold step forward, shoes echoing loudly in the stillness.
Wang Hailong laughed, matching his younger brother's stride. "Exactly. Let's get rich." As he passed the very first classroom, he suddenly froze mid-step, one hand shooting out to stop the others. Dou Menglu's breath caught. "Hailong, what did you see?" He didn't answer immediately—just lifted his foot and kicked the door wide open. Something small fluttered down from the top of the frame and landed with a soft pap on the floor. Hailong crouched, picked it up, and held it triumphantly to the dim light. A faded student nametag: Chen Yalin. "See? Easy."
Wang Wenlong took it, turning the yellowed card between his fingers. "Old paper, laminated edges worn smooth. Real vintage feel. Probably all twenty-four are like this." He handed it back. "First one in under ten seconds. If the rest are this obvious, we're eating premium hot pot tonight."
The small victory loosened shoulders and cracked nervous smiles. They moved deeper, flashlights sweeping across scattered test papers that lifted and fluttered in a wind no one could feel. None of them noticed the damp, bare footprints that appeared on the papers in their wake—small, child-sized, and impossibly fresh.
Then the music started.
A children's lullaby, thin and sweet, drifted through the corridor speakers—except the melody kept fracturing into sobs and giggles, as if the singer couldn't decide whether to comfort or mock. The temperature dropped sharply enough for breath to fog. In the darkened classrooms on both sides, shapes seemed to shift just beyond the beams of their phone lights.
"Okay, that's… kinda creepy," Pei Hu admitted, edging closer to the group. "Why do I feel like something's watching us?"
"Split up and search faster," Wang Hailong ordered, voice still confident. "Meili, Wenlong—left side classrooms. The rest with me on the right. Shout if you find anything." They fanned out, pushing doors, rifling desks, checking under chairs. Minutes passed—nothing. The rooms were eerily clean of nametags, as if mocking their earlier arrogance.
Wang Hailong's patience thinned. "Deeper. We're wasting time." He took the lead again, long legs eating the corridor. When he reached the sealed classroom—the one with the frosted glass window and the hand-written warning sign taped to the door—he stopped so abruptly that Pei Hu walked straight into his back.
"Brother Long?" Pei Hu followed his gaze and felt his stomach plummet.
Through the window, just visible in the sickly flicker of a dying fluorescent tube, stood a single figure by the far wall. A student in a perfectly pressed uniform, head tilted at an unnatural angle, smiling directly at them.
Then the light steadied for one merciless second.
Twenty-four more mannequins filled the room behind the first—some seated, some standing, some leaning over desks like they'd been caught mid-lesson. Not one of them had moved an inch… except their necks. Every single head had twisted, slowly, impossibly, until two dozen pale faces now stared out the window, lips stretched in identical, welcoming smiles that never reached their glass-bead eyes.
Pei Hu's scream echoed down the corridor like a starting gun.