The classroom was unnervingly quiet, the hum of the fluorescent lights the only sound in the air. Natsuki sat at her desk, still as a statue. Her pink hair hung limp, matted against her face, and her eyes stared blankly ahead, devoid of their usual fire. Her neck was twisted unnaturally, not fully broken but contorted in a disturbing way.

She didn’t move. Her hands rested motionless on the desk, fingers barely touching the surface. The silence around her felt thick, almost suffocating, as though the room itself was holding its breath. Natsuki’s body was frozen, but there was an unsettling tension in the stillness, a sense that something was waiting just beneath the surface.