Title: "Rule Six: Never Inquire Teachers Outside the School Building."
I raised my hand to ask, "Miss, what if I seek your guidance outside the school building?" After a brief, unsettling silence, the teacher's lips creepily stretched to her ears: "You'd meet your demise."
Welcome to Cresthill Academy, an institute shrouded in local folklore. Legend has it that only parents who receive a mysterious brochure can enroll their children here. Graduates from Cresthill are rumored to become exceptionally 'obedient' kids. As for me, I'm an aficionado of such eerie tales. I secured this spot by paying a substantial sum to a couple.
I shook my head at the teacher, her mouth gaping grotesquely: "Thanks, Miss. I have no further inquiries." Her gaze drifted away, seemingly in disappointment.
A hushed terror pervaded the classroom. My classmates wore expressions of horror, yet silence reigned. I lowered my head, thoughtfully examining the freshly distributed "Cresthill Academy Student Code."
"Rule One: The Academy operates a rigorous five-day, sealed training program. The main gates are strictly forbidden during this period."
"Rule Two: Meal times are strictly observed – 7:30-8:00 for breakfast, 12:00-12:30 for lunch, and 18:00-18:50 for dinner. Students must consume meals in the dining hall during these periods to ensure proper nutrition, a cornerstone of successful completion."
"Rule Three: The academy houses students in triple-occupancy dorms. Room swapping is prohibited. Dormitories lock from 19:10 until the next morning at 7:20. Students must remain inside during this period and maintain quiet after lights out."
"Rule Four: Active participation in classes, thoughtful responses to queries, and diligent homework completion are mandatory."
"Rule Five: Noise, roughhousing, and running are not permitted within the academic building."
"Rule Six: Instructors are eager to resolve any queries, offering precise answers. Due to their busy schedules, responses will be brief. Students are to refrain from questioning instructors outside the academic building. Each student is granted one query per day."
"Rule Seven: The primary objective for students is to learn. Questions for instructors are encouraged at any time. However, refrain from bothering non-teaching staff, as they may not provide accurate guidance."
"Rule Eight: Class hours are 8:20-11:40 and 13:50-17:45. Tardiness and absenteeism are not tolerated. Students must be in their designated class and seat during class hours and should retreat to their dorms for self-study otherwise."
"Rule Nine: Cresthill Academy conducts a comprehensive test at 13:50 on the fifth day to ascertain if students have achieved their learning objectives. Those failing to graduate will face disciplinary actions."
"Rule Ten: A standard academy uniform is mandatory within the campus."
"Rule Eleven: Attempts to leave the academy during the training period are strictly prohibited."
"Rule Twelve: Each student starts with three points. Deductions for rule infractions will be made, and reaching zero points will result in discipline. Adherence to these rules is crucial for successful completion and graduation."
The teacher, her grin unnaturally wide, surveyed the room: "That concludes our introduction. I trust you will all adhere to these guidelines and strive for your ultimate goal – a successful graduation."
As the bell signaled the end of the class, the teacher gathered her books and departed. The room erupted in whispers. I surveyed the surroundings, my gaze fixing on the digital clock.
17:49.
Phones were confiscated upon entry. My wristwatch confirmed the precise time. According to the map on the handbook's reverse, the dining hall wasn't far. With only ten minutes to spare, it was prudent to head there immediately.
2
On my way, I noticed many students chatting and laughing, seemingly unaware of the lurking dread. I arrived at the dining hall with minutes to spare and joined the queue. A stocky boy ahead grumbled about the meager portions, requesting extra rice. The cafeteria worker obliged, cautioning him against wastefulness.
I settled in a secluded spot. The rules seemed incomplete. The handbook encouraged questions to instructors anytime, yet forbade inquiries outside the academic building. The contradiction implied that questions were permissible only within the building.
The repercussions for rule-breaking were ambiguous, a fact I'd learned through inquiry.
Information was crucial for survival.
Suddenly, a commotion aRose at the dining hall entrance; the doors shut abruptly at 18:00. Latecomers were locked out, the glass doors immovable as if sealed.
An eerie silence enveloped the dining hall as a torrential rain began outside. Students caught in the deluge disturbingly melted away, their forms dissolving under the rain like clay figures. Some pounded on the doors in vain, others ran for shelter, only to collapse as their bodies disintegrated.
The dining hall, once abuzz, was now eerily quiet. The boy who had asked for extra rice retched violently.
3
18:50.
The strange rain ceased, and those stranded outside vanished as if absorbed into the earth. The dining hall doors reopened on schedule.
After witnessing the horror, I felt queasy but resisted the discomfort, hastening to the dormitory as per the handbook's map. Rule three: Triple-occupancy dorms, no room-swapping, doors lock at 19:10 until 7:20 the next morning.
I located my assigned room, 311: Jack Chen, Rose Wang, Hannah Green.
I entered; my roommates hadn't arrived yet. I hoped they hadn't been caught in the downpour. The dorm featured traditional loft beds with desks below. Each bed bore our names, and neatly folded white uniforms with a large black '3' on the back lay on the desks.
I changed into my uniform. The number likely represented the points mentioned in the handbook. But the criteria for deductions and the specifics of punishments were unclear. Was the teacher's ominous warning of death literal?
I pondered over this as a girl with a cherubic face entered the room. A digital clock on the door read:
19:03.
XXX
"Hello," I nodded in greeting, "I'm Jack Chen."
"Hello," the girl with the baby face found her bed next to mine and sat down, her voice trembling. "I'm Rose Wang."
I realized she was shaking too. No wonder, after witnessing the scene in the cafeteria, even the boy who seemed so carefree earlier reacted strongly.
"You... saw it too, right?" Rose initiated a conversation as I struggled to find the right words.
"The cafeteria?" I hesitated, "Yes, I saw it."
"I want to go home," she said, trying to control her shaking.
I remained silent. Comforting others was never my strength, especially in life-threatening situations where words felt powerless.
Rule One: The Academy operates a rigorous five-day, sealed training program. The main gates are strictly forbidden during this period.
Rule Eleven: Do not attempt to leave the Academy during the training period.
The sound of the dormitory door opening echoed again.
19:08.
A tall, slender girl with short hair entered, breathing heavily from what must have been a brisk walk. This was undoubtedly Hannah Green.
I took the opportunity to distract from comforting Rose: "Hannah, right? I'm Jack, and this is Rose."
After greetings, Hannah picked up her uniform, revealing a '2' on the back.
Rule Twelve: Each student starts with three points. Points will be deducted for breaking rules, and students reaching zero points will be disciplined.
Rose and I still had '3'. Hannah must have broken a rule.
I pondered over the handbook's rules, recalling each one. Hannah seemed to read my mind, "Rule Eleven."
She sat down, pulling out a pack of gum and popping a piece into her mouth.
Rule Eleven: Do not attempt to leave the Academy during training.
Reckless, I thought, but didn't voice it out loud.
"Can you share what happened?" I asked cautiously, offering to share the information I had gathered.
Hannah caught her breath, "After leaving the cafeteria, I followed a group heading towards the perimeter wall. I thought I could make it back to the dorm in time."
Her voice tightened, "They climbed the wall but came down one by one. I thought some rules might not have consequences, but I was curious what they saw, why they didn't just escape. So, I climbed up too."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"What I saw was..." She clenched her hair, "Darkness. Nothing but darkness. I threw a stone down, and it took more than half a minute before I heard nothing. I didn't wait any longer, fearing I'd run out of time."
The punishment for breaking Rule Eleven was a point deduction. Three points seemed ample, but in reality, everyone only had two chances.
Rule Twelve: Points reaching zero will result in discipline.
I was about to share my analysis when the dormitory's bell rang piercingly.
We all looked up at the digital clock on the door.
19:10.
Rain started falling outside again.
5
Rose, Hannah, and I weren't in the same class, so they didn't know about the teacher's bizarre behavior today.
I shared what I knew with them.
"This means our daily question is crucial," Hannah noted, looking at Rose. "We need to use it tomorrow."
"What should we ask?" Rose buried her face in her knees, her idea of going home dashed after hearing Hannah's story.
Surviving the next five days was up to us.
"Let's think of questions tonight," I suggested. "We'll meet here every evening to share and analyze the information we gather."
Hannah and Rose agreed.
I reviewed the student handbook and assigned them questions.
Hannah's question: Are there any unspoken rules with penalties beyond the handbook?
Rose's question: What happens to students who are disciplined?
My question: Is there a way for us to escape?
I also asked Rose and Hannah to approach their teachers individually after class with these questions.
My actions yesterday might have hinted at the importance of the daily question to some students. More would realize this tomorrow.
Asking publicly in class, like I did today, meant sharing potentially life-saving information freely.
That would be foolish.
We couldn't assume everyone was selflessly altruistic. Heroes in horror stories rarely survive till the end. We needed to keep vital information as leverage for trading with others.
22:00.
Melodious music played throughout the dormitory, followed by an announcement.
"Dear students, the dormitory lights will go out in thirty minutes. Please maintain quiet after lights out and rest in your beds. Prepare for tomorrow's lessons and successful completion.
"There are no dorm supervisors, and no room checks will be conducted. Please lock your doors and windows before lights out.
"Avoid creating any light to not disturb others.
"Thank you for your cooperation."
The music ceased.
Hannah picked up her notebook, "That's our dormitory rules."
One: Lights out at 10:30.
Two: Lock doors and windows.
Three: Maintain silence after lights out.
Four: Light brings unknown dangers.
Five: Stay in your beds after lights out.
I memorized them quickly, while Rose scribbled them down.
"One more rule," I suddenly remembered from the student handbook.
Rule Three: Maintain silence in your dormitory after lights out.
This was actually two requirements: 1. Stay in your dormitory; 2. Maintain silence.
Hidden Rule: Do not leave your dormitory after lights out.
I shared my discovery with Hannah and Rose.
Hannah thought for a moment, "Let's change my question."
Her question now: Are all meals to be eaten in the cafeteria essential for successful completion?
Rule Two: Proper nutrition is the foundation for successful completion.
Back to the present, I couldn't sleep, half-awake in the darkness, sensing subtle changes around me.
Occasional sounds of fabric rustling came from the other beds – they couldn't sleep either.
Only my mechanical watch offered any sense of time in the lightless room.
After an indeterminate time, footsteps echoed outside, slow but rhythmic.
They twisted each doorknob, then knocked four times.
When it reached a dorm near us, a commotion broke out.
"You doing what? Xiaofei!"
"Are you crazy? Don't open the door! Help me hold her!"
They failed to stop her, as I heard their door open.
Screams erupted from the room, followed by silence as each occupant was subdued.
The mysterious being continued its routine, checking each door and knocking.
Tonight's screams ebbed and flowed like waves, sometimes distant, sometimes close.
I eventually fell asleep amidst this terror.
7
The lights came on, and I opened my eyes immediately.
The digital clock powered back on, displaying 6:55.
The music played again, and the announcement resumed: "Good morning, dear students. Welcome to the first day of classes. We hope you are well-rested. It's now 6:55 AM. Please dress neatly and prepare for learning. The last person to leave the dormitory, please lock the door."
I glanced at my wristwatch reflexively and paused.
My watch showed seven o'clock.
"Let's follow your watch's time, to be safe," Rose suggested hesitantly. "Hurry, let's get to the cafeteria together."
Passing room 307, I glanced quickly.
Three names, two crossed out.
Xiaofei Yang, the betrayer.
Many rooms had names crossed out to varying extents, but lacking more information, I couldn't discern who the survivors were and didn't linger.
We reached the cafeteria at 7:20 by my watch. We each grabbed a bun and sat waiting for 8:00.
At 7:25, according to the digital clock, the cafeteria doors closed.
Torrential rain poured down.
The malice of the Academy was laid bare to the surviving students. From about a thousand initially, only around two hundred remained in the cafeteria.
A chill crawled up my spine.
Hannah whispered, "Look at everyone's uniform numbers."
I hadn't paid attention before, but now I noticed many with '3', and a significant number with '2' and '1'.
"Some might already have been disciplined," Rose murmured.
I saw the boy from yesterday, still marked with a '3'. He looked uninterested in his meal, dumping his food in the swill bucket after the doors opened.
I relaxed, still having three points, and went to discard my half-eaten bun.
"Jack!" Rose's panicked voice made me turn, meeting her terrified gaze.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
Hannah glanced at my back, "You're down to two."
Surprised exclamations echoed around us.
I immediately remembered the sound from last night, followed by the cafeteria lady's words.
"Wasting is not a virtue."
That was a rule!
Hannah seemed to reach the same conclusion, "There's a betrayer!"
The chubby boy had turned traitor!
A flurry of questions occupied my mind: How do betrayers emerge? Are they still human? Can betrayers break hidden rules without penalty?
These questions were cut short by an expletive.
No time for discussion – we had to run to the academic building.
8
Remembering my daily question, I quickly approached the teacher after class: "Miss, I have a question!"
She turned, her voice gentle but her smile unnerving: "Go ahead, Jack."
The scenario was unsettling, no matter how often I'd seen it.
I took a deep breath and asked, "Is there a way for us to leave this place?"
The teacher's demeanor changed, her tone sharp, "Have you read the student handbook carefully?"
Rule Eleven: Do not attempt to leave the Academy during training.
"Could 'leaving' be a forbidden word?" I wondered, bowing deeply as a sign of respect and apology: "I'm sorry, teacher! I'll study the student code thoroughly. Goodbye for now!" The teacher nodded her head.
It seemed all was well, and I turned to head to the cafeteria.
As I left, the teacher's voice followed me: "Jack Chen, teachers remember disruptive students. I'll remember you."
As I turned the corner, I caught a glimpse of the teacher standing still, her mouth unnervingly stretched into a wide smile.
9
At lunch, the cafeteria was bustling with students huddled together, evidently exchanging information.
Our dorm had agreed to share insights in the evening, so the three of us ate in silence, each lost in thought.
A bespectacled boy approached us: "Hi, Jack Chen, I recognize you. I'd like to exchange information with you."
It took me a moment to remember him from my class.
He must have noticed me on the first day.
"I have answers to two questions that I'd be willing to exchange with you. To show my sincerity, I'll share the content of my questions first," he said casually, taking a seat next to us.
"My first question was: Under what circumstances can a student break a rule without losing points?"
Clever question!
Hannah signaled me with her eyes, suggesting a discussion, but in my excitement, I blurted out my question: "Let's exchange! My question is: Is there a way for us to escape this place? I'll trade this answer for your first question's answer."
The boy nodded with satisfaction: "The answer to my first question is: Punished students."
Punished students can break rules without losing points.
Rose, hearing this, twisted her face into a perplexed expression.
She then said, "I'll exchange with you for that answer. My question was: What happens to students after they are punished? The answer is: They return to three points and become 'good children.'"
Punished students return to three points. Three-point students are 'good children.'
We fell into silence.
Zero-point students get punished, and punished students return to three points, gaining immunity from losing points.
They blend in with the regular students, indistinguishable.
Unless... normal people willingly reduce their points to 2 or 1.
Obviously, everyone thought of this.
Rose, the only one in our dorm with three points, hesitantly picked up half a bun from her plate and stopped me from speaking: "Let's talk in the dorm tonight."
Rose threw the bun, reducing her points to two, and returned.
She sighed deeply, staring at the bespectacled boy: "Just one life left now."
The boy, unnerved by her gaze, also disposed of his meal, returning with a '2' on his back.
I spoke up: "Then I'll share my answer. It was: Did you read the student code carefully?"
Honestly, I wasn't sure if that counted as an answer, as it was a question itself.
"Rule Six: Teachers will happily answer any question and provide the correct answer."
"That's interesting," the bespectacled boy chuckled. "My second question was: If a student asks an off-topic question, like 'How to prove the Goldbach Conjecture,' how would you react?"
Before I could fully contemplate his question, I responded impulsively.
"amazing."
10
"How did the teacher respond?" Hannah asked eagerly.
The boy recalled, "Then the teacher glitched." We were all puzzled.
"He kept cracking and uncracking his smile, speaking in two different tones," he continued.
Mimicking the teacher, he began shaking his head erratically: "'Refuse to answer, refuse to answer, refuse to answer...'"
Then he stopped: "Like that. So I said he glitched."
The boy expressed regret: "I wanted to see how long that question would hold him, but I was short on time, so I hurried to the cafeteria."
This information was invaluable!
I was shocked by the revelation.
"You're incredible," Hannah wiped imaginary tears, "Wouldn't miss such a spectacle for the world."
"Too kind," he replied, his proud expression betraying him.
"I have a suggestion," Rose said determinedly, "This gentleman's insights are valuable. Let's give him Hannah's question as well."
I agreed, impressed by his intellect, and so did Hannah.
"My question was: Is eating every meal in the cafeteria essential for successful graduation? The answer is: Yes."
"Rule Two: Proper nutrition is the foundation for successful completion."
At dinner, we met the bespectacled boy, Lee Ye, again in the cafeteria.
He shared his question for the next day.
His question was: What day of the five-day complete closed training cycle is it today?
11
After dinner, we returned to the dormitory.
Passing through the hall, I noticed a new board listing each dormitory member's name and points.
I saw that three members of dorm 307 and many others had red crosses next to their names.
A sea of red crosses filled the board.
"That's Lee Ye, isn't it?" Rose pointed at dorm 419. "Look."
All three members of dorm 419, except for Lee Ye, were marked with red crosses.
We fell silent.
Back in our room, we reviewed the day's information.
Eating every meal in the cafeteria is essential for successful graduation.
"Rule Seven: The ultimate purpose of entering the Study Center is to learn, and students are welcome to ask teachers questions at any time."
"Rule Nine: The graduation test will determine if students have achieved the final purpose of this cycle. Those who do not graduate successfully will be punished."
"Rule Twelve: Students are expected to follow the rules to achieve the ultimate purpose and graduate successfully."
We highlighted these particular rules.
In fact, we encountered a problem while discussing the student code yesterday.
Rules Two and Seven mentioned two key terms: ultimate purpose and successful graduation, both repeated in Rules Nine and Twelve.
If 'ultimate purpose' meant learning, then 'successful graduation' must have another meaning.
But then I had a critical realization.
"Rule Seven: The ultimate purpose of entering the Study Center is to learn, and students are welcome to ask teachers questions at any time."
We had already proven the second half of this statement false. What if the first half was also false?
I remembered the teacher's words after my question yesterday: "Students are expected to follow the rules to achieve the ultimate purpose and graduate successfully."
I recalled the teacher's responses to other students' questions throughout the day, her smile wide each time.
Today as well... when she said she'd remember me, I caught a glimpse of her wide smile.
It was highly likely that the teacher's abnormal smiling state was a necessary condition for answering questions or providing useful information.
"I get it," I stood up, my heart racing with excitement. "What if the last sentence of Rule Twelve isn't a parallel structure but a causal relationship?"
If the ultimate purpose is successful graduation, it all makes sense!
The ultimate purpose isn't learning!
If it's not learning, then successful graduation might mean... escape!
"Tomorrow I'll confirm with the teacher," Rose said, holding her head. "Feels like my brain is going to explode."
As she clearly expressed no desire to think further, Hannah and I discussed Rose's question.
Punished students become 'good children,' returning to three points, and are immune to point deductions.
Punished students are the traitors, harmful to students.
But traitors seem unable to act directly, only misleading students or helping the night patrol monster by opening doors.
This wasn't hard to notice.
In fact, after an afternoon of elimination, many students had already figured out how to distinguish traitors from regular students.
In the hall, I noticed that most of the surviving students had '2' or '1' as their points.
We finally determined Rose's question: Will a punished person who hasn't 'successfully graduated' be punished again?
We had dismissed the use of the term 'ultimate result' from the start.
Although we knew teachers would give correct answers, the boundary between right and wrong wasn't clear.
My question today also received a very ambiguous answer from the teacher.
A vague right is still right. According to this rule, as long as the teacher doesn't lie, they can freely mislead students' understanding of the rules.
If we used 'ultimate purpose' to ask questions, the teacher still had plenty of room to mislead us.
For example, "You should carefully understand the student code yourself, it's in there."
Trust that, and you're a fool.
We then analyzed the next piece of information.
"Before we discuss," I said, surrendering, "I have to admit I didn't fully share my answer from today. There's more to it."
In the afternoon, I thought hard about his question and had to admit Lee Ye was a genius.
With just one question mark, he asked a question that yielded two contradictory answers.
Question 1: How to prove the Goldbach Conjecture?
This is clearly an off-topic question. The teacher chose not to provide any useful information.
Therefore, the teacher should be in a normal state, responding with "Refuse to answer."
Question 2: What would be your reaction if a student asks you an off-topic question?
Lee Ye was cunning here, using the word "for example."
It's unclear whether this example refers to off-topic questions in general or specific unsolved mathematical mysteries like the Goldbach Conjecture.
So, the teacher assumed the scope of this example to be all questions they can't answer. When unable to answer, the teacher should refuse to answer.
The "Refuse to answer" for Question 1 is a refusal, but for Question 2, it clearly provides an answer, thus it is a response.
Therefore, the teacher should be in both an abnormal and normal state.
This information not only saves lives in critical moments but also clarifies that teachers need to be in an abnormal state to provide useful information.
Lee Ye's move was brilliant.
Thus, our hypothesis about the key term "successful graduation" is confirmed.
Those punished and assimilated by the school into phantoms have naturally lost their chance at successful graduation. In other words, they can no longer escape.
Rose's question is critical not for its latter part, but for the two attributes mentioned earlier!
The response to the latter question, regardless of what it is, affirms the former two attributes!
I remember the answer I got from the teacher today.
"Jack Chen, teachers remember disruptive students."
I thought it was a threat for asking an off-topic question.
But when I left, I glimpsed the teacher still in her abnormal state, meaning this statement also contained useful information.
What information can a threat have?
"A warning of danger," Rose muttered with lowered eyes, asserting the answer.
Yes, unless that statement was a warning of danger.
The teacher inferred from my question that I was planning to escape.
From tomorrow, I must be extra cautious around teachers.