Ethan’s gaze settled on several books on the shelf. Their titles were familiar: Monsterology, Tales of the Unknown, Cryptid Encyclopedia—all related to monsters. A thought flashed through his mind: perhaps Mr. Smith had also uncovered something about the creatures. But he didn’t dwell on it. His eyes continued to roam the room, eventually landing on a stack of newspapers. The bold headlines detailed recent disappearances.

His stomach tightened. Although Ethan hadn’t fully grasped everything yet, a nagging feeling told him that Mr. Smith might know more than he imagined.

Ethan hesitated. Should he tell Mr. Smith the truth? It all seemed too far-fetched. Even he wasn’t sure of what he had seen. If Mr. Smith didn’t believe him, or worse, if he told Ethan’s "parents"—those monsters—then he would be exposed. It was too risky. He decided to keep quiet, at least until he could make sense of things.

Noticing Ethan’s tension, Mr. Smith furrowed his brow slightly before turning toward the kitchen. “You seem anxious. Let me get you a glass of warm milk. It’ll help you relax.”

Ethan simply nodded, too wound up to speak. He sat on the edge of the sofa, stiff and tense, his fingers gripping the fabric of his pants. The room was inviting, but his guard remained up.

Mr. Smith returned with a steaming cup of milk and handed it to Ethan. He pulled up a chair and sat across from him, moving slowly and deliberately. The chair creaked softly against the floor as he took his seat, his calm eyes watching Ethan, waiting for him to speak.

Ethan cradled the cup in his hands, feeling the warmth seep into his skin. The heat began to melt away the cold, but it didn’t ease the fear and anxiety gnawing at him.

“What’s wrong, Ethan?” Mr. Smith’s voice was low, gentle.

Ethan hesitated, his eyes drifting from the cup to Mr. Smith’s face. “I… I’ve been under a lot of pressure with school,” he forced a smile, trying to sound like any other stressed teenager. “Studying for the SATs is getting to me.”

It wasn’t a lie. The SATs were the source of anxiety for most students.

He glanced at Mr. Smith, who still wore that same calm, understanding expression.

“That’s certainly stressful,” Mr. Smith nodded, sympathy in his voice. “The prep period is always tough, but I know you’ll make it through.”

Ethan lowered his head, taking a small breath to steady himself. “I… is it okay if I stay here tonight? I just need a change of environment, you know, to clear my head.” His voice was careful, tentative. “I don’t want my parents to know. They might take it the wrong way, and I’ll feel even more pressure.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Mr. Smith’s face. He was silent for a moment, as if weighing Ethan’s request. Then he sighed softly and said, “Ethan, I’d love to help you. Sometimes a change of scenery is just what you need.”

A glimmer of hope appeared in Ethan’s eyes, but it quickly dimmed when Mr. Smith added, “However, as your teacher, I have a responsibility to make sure you’re safe. You can stay here tonight, but I’ll need to let your parents know. That way, everyone can rest easy.”

Ethan’s heart sank. He knew there was no good reason he could give to convince Mr. Smith not to call his parents. If he wanted to avoid them finding out, he’d have to reveal the truth.

His fingers traced the edge of the cup, his throat dry, heart racing as though something was lodged in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He glanced at Mr. Smith’s wrist, wrapped in a bandage, with a small stain of blood seeping through. Ethan’s anxiety eased slightly. Blood… at least that meant he wasn’t like the monsters back home.

He remembered how his mother had been cut earlier, but the knife had only torn the surface of her skin, revealing the hard Black Carapace underneath. No blood. It was a reminder that monsters like her were nearly impossible to hurt. But Mr. Smith was bleeding. His wound was real. That meant he was human.

“Mr. Smith… your hand. How did you get hurt?” Ethan asked, trying to sound concerned rather than suspicious.

Mr. Smith followed Ethan’s gaze to his wrist and gave a small, bitter smile. “Oh, this? It’s nothing, just a small cut. Don’t worry about it. I’ve already taken care of it.”

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Ethan nodded, still a bit uncertain but more at ease after seeing Mr. Smith’s injury.

At that moment, Ethan was almost certain Mr. Smith was human. This realization brought a fragile sense of hope, though it felt as if it could shatter at any moment. Maybe Mr. Smith could help him escape this trapped town. The town was surrounded by dense forests and desolate hills, with only the occasional bus or train offering a way out. But minors couldn’t travel alone; they needed an adult. Ethan felt the walls closing in. It seemed like all the exits were blocked.

He longed to flee but knew that asking any adult for help came with enormous risk. What if Mr. Smith was like his “parents”—human on the outside, but a monster underneath? A chill ran down his spine, causing his fingers to tremble slightly.

Still, that faint glimmer of hope persisted. Ethan knew he had to take this chance. His breath quickened, and an inner battle raged within him. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his emotions, attempting to appear calm. He had to take this step.

With the images of the books and missing persons flashing through his mind, he gathered his courage, inhaled deeply, and spoke quietly, “Actually…” His voice wavered with uncertainty, his words weak as he avoided Mr. Smith’s gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, unsure of what would come next.

“I… I think I saw something strange.”

Mr. Smith’s brow furrowed, his body leaning in with concern. “What did you see?”

Ethan gripped the cup tightly, hesitating for a moment. “I… I saw something… something like monsters,” he stammered, his voice trembling with unease.

Mr. Smith’s expression turned serious, his voice lowering. “Ethan, sometimes stress or nightmares can cause us to see things that aren’t there. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

Ethan shook his head, his knuckles white, his eyes flickering with doubt and fear. He needed Mr. Smith to believe him, but he also feared that revealing too much would lead to consequences he couldn’t foresee.

“I… I wasn’t dreaming, Mr. Smith. I saw… them.” His throat felt tight, his voice coming out in a low, hoarse whisper. He knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. He had to reveal his deepest fear.

Mr. Smith’s face grew more serious, his eyes gleaming with an unreadable emotion. He straightened up slightly, his voice still gentle but with a firm undertone. “Ethan, this is no small matter. If you really saw something, you need to tell me. Otherwise, it will haunt you.”

Ethan’s fingers trembled with nervous energy. He took a deep breath and made his decision. “It’s… it’s my parents. I saw their… real faces.”

Mr. Smith’s brow furrowed, curiosity deepening in his gaze. He leaned closer, his voice low and probing. “What did you see, Ethan? What are they?”

Ethan’s breathing grew heavier, his voice barely audible. “They wear human skin, but underneath… there’s Black Carapace. Like… like some kind of monster.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ethan felt a weight lift from his chest, like a boulder had been removed. But the relief was short-lived, replaced by a deeper fear. He had no idea how Mr. Smith would react, or if he had made the right choice. His eyes instinctively flicked to Mr. Smith’s face, watching for any subtle changes in expression.

Mr. Smith’s face remained calm, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The soft light in the room cast shadows on his features, making him look different, darker. His eyes gleamed with something… hungry, as though he had been waiting for this moment. Outside, the wind stirred, rustling the leaves against the window, but the faint noise only made the oppressive silence inside heavier.

“Ethan,” Mr. Smith’s voice was low, vibrating with barely contained excitement, “I didn’t expect you to figure it out.”

The words hit Ethan like a bucket of ice water. His spine stiffened, and a cold chill shot through his body, freezing him in place. In those few seconds of shock, it dawned on Ethan—Mr. Smith was one of them.

Ethan shot up from his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. Run! It was the only thought in his mind. But Mr. Smith moved faster. He lunged forward, his hand clamping down on Ethan’s shoulder like a vice, His shoulder was locked in place. The grip was impossibly strong, leaving Ethan unable to move despite his frantic attempts to break free. His heart pounded as panic surged through him.

Mr. Smith’s face drew closer, his breath cold against Ethan’s skin, smelling faintly of decay. His eyes, now fully devoid of humanity, gleamed with the thrill of the hunt. Ethan's mind raced, pieces falling together—Mr. Smith was a monster, just like his parents.

"Though... you're a bit scared now, which might affect the taste," Mr. Smith said with a touch of regret, though his voice was mostly laced with excitement. "But no matter. Thanks for bringing me a late-night snack."

Ethan’s breathing quickened, and the cup slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor with a sharp crack that echoed in the oppressive silence. A surge of icy fear consumed him as realization struck—Mr. Smith was going to eat him.

Struggling with all his might, Ethan tried to rise from the chair, but the pressure on his shoulder was unyielding. His eyes met Mr. Smith’s cold, predatory gaze. It was over.

Suddenly, Mr. Smith’s other hand shot out like a blade, slicing through the air toward Ethan’s throat.

Ethan felt a sharp, excruciating pain. The world blurred as darkness rushed in, pulling him under. His struggle grew weaker, and soon, the agony became distant, as his consciousness faded.

“Ethan, Ethan, wake up! It’s time for lunch.”

Henry Cooper’s voice pierced through the fog, pulling him back from the brink.

“Wha—?” Ethan gasped, jerking awake, his body snapping upright from the desk. Everything was a haze at first—blurry classroom walls, desks, the sunlight streaming through the windows. Slowly, the scene came into focus, but his mind was still clouded, as if the terror from moments ago hadn’t fully released its grip.

His heart continued to race, beads of sweat trickling down the side of his face as he glanced around, disoriented, his gaze unfocused.