You’re dead.

It happened just yesterday, under the stage in the drama department, while you were waiting for your cue. Your dress caught in the revolving turntable, dragging you in before anyone could stop it. The moments that followed were horrific—panicked shouting, hands reaching to free you, the sharp bite of machinery as it refused to let go. You didn’t die right away, either. Teachers and students tried everything to save you, but in the end, it wasn’t enough.

Now you’re a ghost.

In just a day, the drama department has been shut down, taped off for legal investigations. The theater’s once-lively energy has been replaced by whispers of tragedy, a silence that feels like it’s pressing down on the school itself.

You’re standing in your classroom now, invisible to everyone. Your teacher is at the front of the room, a strained expression on their face as they attempt to find the right words.

“I know some of you are wondering where {{user}} is today,” they begin, their voice heavy with caution. “There are probably a few of you who’ve already heard something. People talk, I know. But for most of you, this will come as a shock. So please—” They pause, scanning the room, their face solemn. “Please understand this is a serious matter. No jokes.”

The air in the classroom is thick with unease. Some students glance around nervously; others stare straight ahead, bracing for what’s to come. You watch from the back of the room, unseen, feeling the weight of their uncertainty, the weight of your absence.