As the truth of the school's dark history unfolded before us, my chatbot and I knew we had to act swiftly. Armed with the smartphone we had retrieved earlier, we embarked on the daunting task of reporting everything to the outside world.

With determined steps, we made our way to the nearest window, where we hoped to find a signal strong enough to transmit our findings.

As my chatbot diligently transmitted our expose to the outside world, I feverishly typed away on the keyboard, crafting a detailed blog post that would unveil the dark secrets of our school. With each word I typed, I felt a surge of determination coursing through my veins, driving me forward despite the mounting tension in the air.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and the school's direction stormed into the room, their faces twisted with rage. "What do you think you're doing?" one of them bellowed, their voice echoing through the room.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and the school's direction stormed into the room, their faces twisted with rage. "What do you think you're doing?" one of them bellowed, their voice echoing through the room.

I froze as I realized the gravity of the situation. This was the first time I met the other team, and they were formidable opponents. Two guys, each with their physique adapted to their roles—one a prefect of the school, radiating authority, and the other, resembling a stern secretary, ready to enforce their will.

My chatbot didn't waver, their fingers still dancing across the keyboard, uploading our revelations to the world. "We're exposing the truth," they declared, their voice steady despite the tension in the air.

"You have no right to do this!" the prefect roared, taking a menacing step forward, his eyes ablaze with fury.

But we stood our ground, fueled by the knowledge that we were fighting for justice. "We have every right to speak out against the injustices that have occurred within these walls," I countered, my voice firm with determination.

As the confrontation escalated, I knew that we were facing an uphill battle. But we were not alone. Together, my chatbot and I would continue to fight for the truth, no matter the obstacles that stood in our way.

As the school's direction rallied with the team of teachers, their singular focus on preserving the school's reputation became painfully evident. The psychologist we had met earlier stood at a distance, his expression fraught with anxiety, perhaps torn between loyalty to the school and the desire for justice.

Surrounded by other pupils, who seemed to move as if controlled by invisible strings, I made a desperate attempt to appeal to their sense of reason. "Can't you remember what happened to you?" I implored, my voice rising above the chaos. "Haven't you ever questioned why there are still people jumping from the rooftop? Why the smell of fire lingers in the air?"

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

As I lifted my head to address the gathering crowd, my gaze fell upon the silhouette of the ghost, watching from the window on the second floor. Her presence served as a haunting reminder of the tragedy that had unfolded within these walls.

Before I could utter another word, chaos erupted. The direction and their team of teachers launched themselves towards us, their determination to silence us evident in every step. But we were not alone in this fight.

With a surge of collective resolve, my chatbot and I stood our ground, facing our adversaries head-on. The skirmish was fierce, with words exchanged like blows as we defended our right to speak the truth.

Despite the odds stacked against us, we emerged victorious. Through sheer determination and unwavering conviction, we had prevailed. As the dust settled, the school's direction lay defeated, their attempts to suppress the truth thwarted by our unwavering resolve.

With the battle won, we turned our attention to the gathered pupils, their expressions a mix of confusion and realization. "You have a choice," I announced, my voice ringing out with newfound strength. "You can continue to be puppets in their game, or you can join us in our quest for justice."

I implored, my voice echoing across the courtyard. "I know some of you have harmed that girl, her name is Sarah. No one shall be abused. It's time for you to repair the fault. Tell them the truth, tell them what happened to this school, and so you all can rest in peace."

As the words hung in the air, a tense silence enveloped the courtyard. The school's direction and their team of teachers bristled with anger, their resolve unyielding. But among the gathered pupils, a flicker of recognition began to spread.

Suddenly, chaos erupted once more as the direction made a desperate grab for the phone, intent on silencing our efforts to expose the truth. But before they could reach us, other pupils intervened, their memories flooding back like a torrential wave.

In a moment of clarity, they remembered everything – the abuse, the injustice, the tragedy that had unfolded within these walls. Driven by a newfound sense of purpose, they joined our cause, standing shoulder to shoulder in solidarity.

With the phone clutched tightly in my hand, I transmitted everything to the outside world, every detail of the horrors that had plagued our school. And as the truth was laid bare for all to see, a profound sense of relief washed over us.

Suddenly, everything began to vanish – the darkened sky, the crumbling buildings, the echoes of despair. In its place, a brilliant light filled the courtyard, illuminating the faces of those who had fought so bravely for justice.

Then, as if prompted by the game's mechanics, big red words materialized before my eyes: "You have won the game." The words hung in the air, a testament to our perseverance and determination in the face of adversity.

A prompt appeared, asking if it was a good game, if there were any remarks, and if I wished to erase my memory.

"No," I replied firmly, my voice resolute. "It's quite instructive for me to discover how teenagers lived in the 90s."

With that, the prompt disappeared, and my chatbot and I returned to reality. I removed the VR headset, blinking as I reacquainted myself with the sight of my small 10-meter square apartment.