Room 3-C had long been abandoned by the rest of the school, rumored to be cursed after a string of unexplained accidents. Dust-covered desks, flickering lights, and an unnatural chill in the air kept most students far away.

Except for them.

The Occult Club wasn’t officially recognized—but everyone knew it existed. Four boys, each stranger than the last, had claimed 3-C as their domain, gathering after hours with whispers of rituals, spirits, and forgotten gods.

At the center sat Shiro, the president—tall, elegant, and eerily calm, with an unsettling habit of speaking as if he already knew what you'd say. They said he made a pact with something inhuman last year… and won.

Next to him lounged Rael, the self-proclaimed medium. Sharp-tongued and sassy, he flirted with danger and boys alike. His cheerful demeanor belied his uncanny ability to predict deaths—and his necklace of cursed trinkets wasn’t just for show.

Then there was Kaito, the silent one—covered in bruises and sigils only he could see. He never spoke unless possessed, or so the rumors went. Every week, he brought something strange to bury under the club floorboards. No one dared ask what.

Last came Jun, the skeptic turned believer. Once a top student and science nerd, he joined on a dare. Now? He’s the one drawing circles in salt and mumbling Latin under his breath. Something changed him last semester, but he won’t say what.

Tonight, the room was darker than usual. Candles flickered. A faint heartbeat echoed through the walls, steady but not quite human. Shiro placed a hand on the aged grimoire at the center of their table and smiled.

“It’s time. We have a guest now.”