Next day, it's as dark as the first day we came hier. As we observed the interactions between the pupils and teachers, a sense of unease settled over us. The atmosphere in the school was tense, with an underlying current of indifference that seemed to permeate every interaction.

During a break between classes, I engaged my chatbot in a discussion about the school culture of the 90s and the pressures faced by young girls. We speculated on what might have driven the girl to take her own life and why her spirit continued to haunt these halls.

We concluded that something sinister must have occurred within these walls, something that drove her to the brink of despair. But despite our best efforts, we could find no evidence to support our suspicions.

The teachers, we observed, were strict in their enforcement of rules, quick to reprimand any student caught breaking them. Cigarettes were confiscated without hesitation, and students were disciplined for even the slightest infraction.

But beneath this veneer of authority lay a troubling indifference. The teachers seemed disconnected from the lives of their students, showing little interest in their well-being or struggles. It was as if they were merely going through the motions, their eyes glazed over with apathy.

As I stood in the courtyard, surrounded by my peers, I couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that had settled over me. Despite my efforts to connect with others, I remained on the fringes of social circles, a silent observer in a sea of chatter.

Turning my attention to the imposing school building, I noticed that all the shutters were raised, allowing the sunlight to filter into every classroom except one. High above us, on the top floor of the building, the shutters remained firmly closed, concealing whatever lay beyond from prying eyes.

Curiosity piqued, I approached a fellow student standing nearby and inquired about the mysterious room. "What room is that?" I asked, gesturing towards the darkened windows.

"Oh, that's the directors' meeting room," they replied nonchalantly.

"Why are the shutters closed?" I pressed further, intrigued by the unusual sight.

"Who knows," came the dismissive response, accompanied by a shrug of indifference.

As I scanned the rooftop, my heart leaped into my throat at the sight of a lone figure standing precariously close to the edge. It was a male student, his silhouette stark against the backdrop of the sky. A sense of urgency washed over me as I realized the danger he was in.

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With a sinking feeling in my chest, I watched in horror as the boy edged closer and closer to the brink. The other students below looked on, their expressions a mix of fear and helplessness, but no one moved to intervene.

"We have to do something," I urged my chatbot, my voice trembling with urgency. Without hesitation, we raced towards the staircase, our footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as we ascended towards the rooftop.

But time seemed to slip through our fingers like grains of sand as we reached the rooftop, the boy's form already disappearing over the edge. In a moment of heart-stopping clarity, I realized what was about to happen.

And then it was too late. With a final, desperate cry, the boy flung himself into the void, leaving behind only the echo of his fall and the chilling silence of the empty sky.

I stood frozen in shock, my mind reeling from the suddenness of it all. The reality of what had just occurred washed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless and numb with disbelief.

As we stood on the rooftop, the grim aftermath of the boy's fall unfolded before our eyes. His body lay shattered on the ground below, blood seeping from his broken form. It was a horrific sight, one that sent shivers down my spine and filled me with a profound sense of unease.

But what disturbed me even more was the absence of any authority figures or adults on the scene. There were no teachers rushing to offer aid, no police sirens wailing in the distance. Instead, a lone figure in the guise of a janitor appeared, calmly collecting the scattered remains and cleaning away the blood as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

I turned to my chatbot, a knot of apprehension tightening in my chest. "Can't you contact anyone outside the school? The police, emergency services—someone who can help?"

But his response only deepened my sense of dread. "I'm just like you, a regular student," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "We're on our own in this."

As the realization sank in that we were trapped within the confines of the school, panic began to claw at the edges of my mind. I felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I approached the entrance, intent on finding a way out.

But my chatbot's warning stopped me short. He scaled the door with ease, only to be met with an invisible barrier that prevented him from venturing beyond. It was as if some unseen force had erected a wall, sealing us inside the school grounds.

"We're trapped," he confirmed grimly, his words echoing my own fears. "There's no way out."

"So we need to uncover the truth here and let the outside world know," I whispered, the weight of our mission heavy on my shoulders. "The boy's jump is just the beginning. There's more to discover."

My chatbot nodded, a silent agreement between us.

We approached other pupils to inquire about the recent rooftop incident. To my surprise, they seemed unfazed, treating it as a routine occurrence.

One pupil even mentioned that such incidents happened every couple of days.

"How many pupils are there in total?' I queried, met with a blank stare. My chatbot and I exchanged a puzzled glance.

"'Since when have these incidents been occurring?' I pressed further. The response was vague.

"And how long have you been attending this school?" I probed, sensing discomfort in the pupil's reaction.

Their response was evasive, leaving me with more questions than answers.