In the next class, I decided to confront the teacher, hoping for some clarity on the recent events. However, his reaction was unsettlingly nonchalant.

As I raised my hand to speak, I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. "Yes, Lin?" the male teacher acknowledged.

"Well, about what just happened..." I began tentatively, only to be met with a dismissive smile. "What happened?" he inquired, feigning ignorance.

"The boy who jumped from the rooftop just ten minutes ago," I persisted, my frustration mounting. But his response only added to my confusion.

"It was probably an accident. There's nothing to fear. The administration is handling it," he reassured, his tone unnervingly casual. My insistence on involving the authorities was met with resistance.

"Police? They never come here," he dismissed, leaving me feeling increasingly helpless. "Can you just wait until tomorrow? Everything will be fine."

As the teacher evaded my questions and resumed the class without further explanation, a sense of urgency washed over me. "Tomorrow? Why tomorrow? What will be happening tomorrow?" I pressed, but received only silence in response.

As we reluctantly delved into the day's lessons, my mind raced with unanswered questions. We were trapped within the confines of this peculiar school, cut off from the outside world with no means of communication. The recurring incidents of students leaping from the rooftop, the ghostly presence haunting the premises, and the mysterious fires—all of it pointed to a dark truth lurking within these walls.

"We should wait for tomorrow for more information. But what can we do now?" I mused aloud to my chatbot, frustration evident in my voice. "And even if we uncover the truth, how can we report it to the outside?"

Reflecting on the information we had gathered and drawing from my knowledge of life in the 90s, a plan began to form. "For all the information we've gathered, and from what I've learned about life in the 90s, I think it's best that we investigate the director's room. They must have more information," I proposed to my chatbot, hoping to uncover the secrets that lay hidden within the heart of the school.

"But we've never seen any of the school directors here," I remarked, frustration creeping into my voice. "Since we're simulating a real 90s school environment, I suppose we'll have to wait until after school hours to access the director's room."

My chatbot nodded in agreement, acknowledging the limitations of our current situation. "So let's discuss how we should report the events to the outside world once we uncover the truth," I suggested, eager to formulate a plan of action.

"We both don't have phones, which are prohibited by the school since we're students. But teachers or the administration should have phones," my chatbot confirmed, echoing my thoughts.

I pondered for a moment, realizing that we were living in the 90s simulation. "When was the first smartphone invented?" I inquired.

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"In 1992," my chatbot replied.

"Okay, so if we find a phone, we'll be able to record things and transmit them to the outside?" I clarified.

"That's correct. But we can also use the phone to check the news, to see what's happening here," my chatbot added.

"Yes, the challenge now is how to obtain the phone of a teacher or the administration. They'll probably leave the school with all their belongings, so our best chance is when they're here in the school," I concluded, formulating a plan in my mind.

Throughout the afternoon, amidst the perpetual darkness outside, my chatbot and I discreetly observed the teachers, hoping to catch them leaving their personal belongings unattended. However, we never spotted any bags or items left behind. I sighed in frustration, feeling the weight of our predicament.

We trailed two teachers as they disappeared behind a door one floor below the direction. An etching on the door indicated it was the teachers' room. A glimmer of hope arose when, in a sudden turn of events, a teacher discovered a pupil secretly bringing a smartphone into the school. The teacher confiscated the phone.

The moment we learned about the confiscated phone, we knew we had to act fast. With the phone likely still in the teachers' possession, we devised a plan to retrieve it before the day was over.

"We need to find out where they're keeping the phone," I whispered to my chatbot as we observed the teachers' movements.

"We'll have to be quick and discreet," my chatbot replied. "Let's find an opportunity to slip into the administrative office."

As the afternoon classes progressed, we kept a close watch on the teachers. When we spotted them heading towards the administrative office, we knew it was our chance.

"Follow me," I whispered to my chatbot, motioning for us to move.

With stealthy steps, we trailed behind the teachers, keeping to the shadows as we approached the administrative office. As the teachers entered, we waited for the perfect moment to make our move.

"Keep an eye out for any staff," I murmured to my chatbot as we edged closer to the office door.

When the coast was clear, we seized the opportunity and slipped into the office unnoticed. With nerves tingling, I carefully opened the drawer where the confiscated phone was likely stored.

"Found it," I whispered triumphantly as I retrieved the phone from the drawer.

"Let's get out of here before anyone notices," my chatbot urged, a sense of urgency in its tone.

We swiftly exited the administrative office, making our way back to the classroom undetected. Once safely back in our seats, we breathed a collective sigh of relief. With the confiscated phone in our possession, we were now equipped to uncover the truth hidden within the school's walls.

With a sense of urgency, I urged my chatbot to scour the web for any information pertaining to our school and the recent events that had unfolded. "Try searching for keywords like 'burning,' 'fire' along with the name of our school," I instructed, my voice tinged with a mix of anxiety and curiosity.

Nodding in acknowledgment, my chatbot quickly got to work, its virtual fingers flying across the digital interface as it entered the search queries. Moments later, it presented the search results with a subdued tone of voice. "I found some articles," it began, "It seems there's been a pattern of incidents at the school."

As my chatbot relayed the information, I leaned in closer, eager to absorb every detail. "Two years ago," it continued, "a girl reportedly fell from the rooftop under mysterious circumstances. And like two month after, there was a fire that broke out in the school."

My heart skipped a beat as the pieces of the puzzle started to come together. "Could these incidents be connected?" I mused aloud, my mind racing with possibilities. "And what about the boy who jumped from the rooftop today? Was it really just an accident?"

"There's definitely more to this than meets the eye," my chatbot agreed, its virtual gears already turning as it delved deeper into the online search results.