Chapter 1: Baker's Dozen

 Part 1

"So, which one do you prefer?" Charlotte's voice sliced through the soft hum of the radio, jolting me from my reverie. I could feel my pulse quicken under her scrutiny.

The drive to school was smooth, the morning sun casting a golden hue over the rolling hills. Quaint farmhouses dotted the landscape, their red roofs peeking through the lush greenery as we left the bustling highway behind. Dad hummed along to the radio, his fingers tapping the steering wheel in time with the music. The scent of fresh coffee from his travel mug mingled with the leather of the car seats, creating a comforting backdrop to the silent battle of wills unfolding in the back seat.

Charlotte's gaze pierced through me, her eyes narrowing with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. Her stare bore into me, a silent challenge that made my palms slick with sweat and my heart hammer against my ribs. She was forcing me to make a choice, and there was no escaping it. If it had been anyone else, I would have apologized for daydreaming and moved on. But this was Charlotte, and she wasn't letting me off the hook that easily.

"The second one," I finally said, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the turmoil churning inside me. I prayed it was the right answer.

She nodded, her stern expression softening. The tension melted from her shoulders, and she exhaled a breath she seemed to have been holding for too long. I gave her my best poker face, trying to mask the relief that washed over me. Slowly, she relaxed her shoulders, the tension easing out of her frame.

"Alright, Ellis, now turn around," she instructed, her voice calm but firm.

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden command. Her focus shifted as she began to loosen the beige blazer of her uniform, revealing the intricate pattern on her short-sleeved blouse. It was something I hadn't expected, and for a moment, I hesitated. But the seriousness in her eyes left no room for argument.

I turned my head the other way, my heart pounding in my chest. My own beige trousers and short-sleeved button-down shirt felt suddenly constricting. From the rustling sounds behind me, I could tell she was slowly taking off her uniform's jacket. The air in the car grew heavy with tension. The delicate scent of her floral perfume mingled with the leather seats, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere that pressed down on me.

"How much longer do you think it will take?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

"You’re the one that said my bra didn't match, remember?" Charlotte snapped, her voice tight with frustration. She wrestled with her clothes, her movements sharp and impatient.

"But did you have to change in a moving car? What if someone sees you?" I stammered, my voice rising with anxiety. My eyes darted nervously to the passing cars, my heart pounding in my chest.

"It's just you and Uncle. It's not like I'm doing something risqué," she retorted matter-of-factly.

She had a point. Dad, oblivious to the minor drama in the back seat, focused on the road. The soft hum of the radio and his off-key humming created a strangely serene backdrop to the tension unfolding behind him. After what felt like an eternity, the rustling beside me finally ceased, leaving a charged silence. The only sounds were the steady hum of the engine and Dad's off-key humming.

"Alright, you can open your eyes now." Charlotte's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her usual confidence giving way to a rare vulnerability. She bit her lip, waiting for my reaction. "So, what do you think?"

It felt like a game of spot the difference, and I was sure I'd fail before the timer ran out. But from my experience with women, I knew they loved being flattered.

"Charlotte, you look stunning. That small change really highlights your style. The girls are going to be envious, and the boys... well, they'll be falling over themselves to impress you," I said, trying to sound casual but sincere.

"And...?" Charlotte's index finger tapped rapidly against her chin, waiting for more.

I wanted to ask Dad for advice, but he was focused on the road, his hands steady on the wheel, humming softly to the radio. His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, almost as if signaling to me to handle it.

"But honestly, Charlotte, you were fabulous even before you stepped out the door. Like a goddess of beauty, you're wonderful in whatever you wear," I added, hoping it would satisfy her.

"Ellis." Her tone was gentle, but her uneven breathing betrayed a mix of frustration and concern, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Close your eyes."

I wanted to remind myself that we were cousins, and the closest form of love between us could only be familial. Yet, the intensity of her gaze made my heart pound, blurring the lines of our relationship.

"Um..." Before I could say anything, I felt something on my nose. "Ow, ow, ow!" Her delicate fingers, surprisingly strong, clamped down on my nose, squeezing and pulling with relentless force. "What are you doing?"

Each word was difficult to get out as she gripped and pulled my nose harder.

"Ellis. You were thinking about another girl, weren't you?" With one heavy sigh, her eyes narrowing in disappointment, as if she expected better from me. "A young lady might be patient and let a few things slide from time to time, but they don't think highly of lying little pigs who think it's alright to swim in their own filth."

"But you would have pulled my nose either way!" I protested, my voice muffled and strained by her unyielding grip.

The sharp pain in my nose dulled, replaced by a numbing throb that spread across my face, each pulse a reminder of Charlotte's unexpected strength. Dad occasionally glanced back at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes twinkling with amusement, making it clear he had been aware of the drama unfolding the entire time. Et tu, father.

"Not true. I would have been gentler if you'd been more honest," Charlotte said, her tone firm.

So either choice, I would have been trapped between a rock and a hard place?

"Okay, okay, but could you finally let go of my nose?" I mumbled, my words barely coherent through the pain.

"Fine," she sighed, the sound tinged with annoyance. "I really spoil you too much."

She finally let go of my nose, and I rubbed it, trying to get the feeling back. The numbness in my nose slowly gave way to a dull, persistent ache. The scent of Charlotte's floral perfume lingered in the air, mingling with the faint smell of leather from the car seats. I wanted to dispute everything she said, but all I could manage was a mumbled thanks as I rubbed my nose to make sure it was still attached.

"So, are we still visiting Wisteria after school?" Charlotte's tone softened, her eyes searching mine with a mix of hope and vulnerability, seeking reassurance.

Oh right. The thought slipped through my mind. With the start of the new school term, it would become more difficult making time to see her afterwards.

"Yes, I am sure she will be excited to see you again," I replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. Inside, my stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety, a storm of emotions that left me feeling both eager and uneasy.

Dad navigated the bustling morning traffic with ease, steering the car towards the school drop-off zone. The scent of freshly cut grass and exhaust fumes filled the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and hurried conversations.

"Hey Dad, are you still picking us up at 8 pm today?" I asked, leaning forward slightly from the back seat, the beige blazer of my uniform neatly folded on my lap.

"Of course," Dad said, his smile warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the bustling chaos outside the car. "Have fun over there. I will pick you both there afterwards once I get off work."

Visiting Wisteria was always a special occasion. The thought of seeing her again filled me with anticipation, and I knew Charlotte was looking forward to it as much as I was.

"Ellis, the four years attending Maple Ridge will be full of new experiences. Even so, you shouldn't waste all that time learning how to pick up girls in school. Not all of them are made from sugar, spice, and everything nice," Charlotte said, her words carrying a mix of affection and authority, her voice steady and reassuring. She adjusted the ribbon at the collar of her blouse with a practiced grace, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Got it, Charlotte. I'll steer clear of the girls that didn't come from the same cookie-cutter mold that also made you," I quipped, hoping to lighten the mood with a playful grin.

Charlotte's eyes softened, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. For a moment, her usual confident demeanor cracked, revealing a rare vulnerability. Her beige pleated skirt and short-sleeved blouse with delicate lace trim looked pristine, despite the morning's rush.

"You truly have a way with words, Ellis," she said, tightening her grip on my nose. "But I guess that's why I'm the only mature woman who can put up with you. You're lucky to have me watching over you, not just as your cousin, but as your senior."

It took several repetitions of 'You're beautiful, Charlotte,' before she finally released my nose. I rubbed it vigorously, trying to restore the blood flow and feeling. The numbness faded, replaced by a dull ache that pulsed with each heartbeat.

As the car made its final stop, the door's lock released with a soft click. Charlotte and I quickly checked to see if we had all of our belongings. Just as we were about to leave the car, Charlotte froze, her eyes fixed on something under the seat. I soon noticed a blue ribbon stuck under the seat. It seemed as if her ribbon was wedged in real tight.

"Here, let me help," I offered, reaching down to it.

The ribbon had an adorable feminine design with lace trimmings and flowery pattern. As my fingers wrapped around the silky material, I felt its delicate softness, a stark contrast to the rest of the fabric in my uniform.

"No, Ellis..." Charlotte's face turned crimson.

With one strong tug, I pulled it from under the seat and held it up high. The instant I did, the slow-motion scene that unfolded reminded me of that beach trope. You know, ‘that trope’. The one where a bunch of kids are playing in the ocean and the female loses her swimsuit.

Part 2

‘Ouch.’ The sting lingered, a constant reminder of my confusion and guilt. Even as the last bell of the day echoed through the halls, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease. What had I done to deserve that? The first day of school had been a whirlwind of self-introductions and tedious speeches that flew by in a flash.

Scanning the classroom, I noticed the diverse array of students—meatheads flexing their muscles, mean girls whispering behind manicured nails, nerds engrossed in their books, and bookworms lost in their own worlds. The room buzzed with the low hum of conversations and the rustling of backpacks. I didn't fit into any particular group, so I sat by my desk alone as everyone else packed up and left.

"Hey, why are you staring at me?" Thomas's voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

"You must be imagining it," I replied hastily, averting my gaze and pretending I hadn't been lost in thought.

Thomas, standing at just 4'9" with a baby face that made him look even younger, had an air of innocence. His blue vest set him apart from the other boys, making him look even more out of place. I couldn't help but wonder if Thomas would look better in the girls' uniform, with a skirt and black tights. The thought made me chuckle inwardly.

A sharp double knock on the classroom door interrupted our awkward exchange, drawing everyone's attention. The sound echoed in the suddenly silent room, amplifying the tension. She looked like a second-year student, her jet black hair tied back in a ponytail with a butterfly clip. Her glasses magnified her eyes, making them appear larger and more expressive. The sunlight streaming through the window caught the clip, making it sparkle.

"Excuse me, but I'm looking for Tama. Is there a Tama here?" she asked in a sweet voice that sounded like honey. Most of the boys couldn't take their eyes off her, their gazes filled with admiration. Even the girls looked at her with a mix of admiration and envy

The muscle head trio, as I dubbed them, were too engrossed in their perpetual workout routines to notice anything else. Their grunts and the clinking of weights created a constant background noise, blending with the hum of classroom chatter. Those three were always lifting weights or doing push-ups, even when it wasn't gym class. But no one cared seeing them try to show off their summer gains.

Gradually, the classroom buzz returned to its usual hum. The scent of chalk and paper filled the air as students resumed their conversations and packed their bags. Thomas's face flushed a deep crimson as he scrambled out of his seat, his embarrassment palpable. He avoided eye contact, his movements hurried and awkward.

"Ringo, what are you doing in my class? And stop calling me Tama. I'm not a damn cat," he hissed, his voice low as he tried to drag her out of the room.

As he pushed her away, she suddenly stopped in front of my desk. I was rendered speechless, my breath catching in my throat as I gazed at her in awe. She was stunning, her jet-black hair tied back with a butterfly clip, and her glasses magnifying her expressive eyes. Her gentle lips curved into a radiant smile that made my heart skip a beat and my palms sweat. For some reason, she had a curious look on her face.

"Are you friends with Tama?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"He's a nobody. Let's go before we cause a scene," Thomas muttered, tugging her away with a mix of urgency and embarrassment.

The class started to whisper, curious eyes darting between Thomas and Ringo. The low murmur of speculation spread like wildfire.

"Ellis, can you wait for a moment?” A gentle hand tapped my shoulder. “I need to talk to you about something important in private."

It was Mademoiselle Carlaw, our French teacher. She was strict during lessons but kind and friendly outside of class. When we weren't in class, she told us to call her Ms. Carlaw. I had no reason to refuse, so I quickly packed up and followed her to the teachers' lounge.

Part 3

As we headed towards the main entrance, the air was filled with laughter and chatter, a lively symphony of students reconnecting after the summer break. The sun cast a warm glow on the historic building, highlighting its blend of old-world charm and modern amenities. We were in the east building, once an exclusive academy for boys. Its four stories had witnessed countless renovations, blending historic charm with modern amenities, including state-of-the-art labs and sleek classrooms.

Heading towards the main entrance, the sound of laughter and chatter filled the air. Students clustered in animated groups, their laughter and excited chatter filling the hallways. The scent of freshly cut grass wafted in from the open windows, mingling with the smell of chlorine from the pool. The lively atmosphere buzzed with excitement, but I felt like an outsider. The energy around me only amplified my sense of disconnection, making me feel even more isolated.

"Ugh… it’s hard to believe summer went by so fast. So, Charlotte, how was your vacation?" a female voice called out, jolting me from my thoughts.

"Now don’t say that. I had a fun time apple picking with my family," Charlotte replied with a giggle, her eyes lighting up as she spotted me.

As we passed by, I saw Charlotte sitting at our meeting spot, chatting with her friends. I signaled to her that I was going to be late meeting up with Wisteria and that she should go on ahead. She nodded, her laughter ringing out as she turned back to her friends.

Ms. Carlaw's almond-shaped eyes and bright turquoise hair swayed gracefully as she walked, exuding a youthful beauty that captivated everyone around her. Her light tan skirt and blouse accentuated her slender figure, and a gentle, citrus scent emanated from her, subtly fragrant and not overpowering. I was amazed by how young and fresh she looked. She had graduated from this school not too long ago but could easily pass for a student herself. If 100 men in the country were asked, I bet they would all say she was Forever 17.

"Hmm... Did you say something?" she asked, turning her head to look at me, her eyes wide with curiosity.

I quickly shook my head, feeling a bit flustered. "No, nothing," I mumbled, trying not to say anything that would get me into trouble.

Walking through the central building that connected the east and west wings, I paused to admire the new addition. The glass walls allowed streams of natural light to flood in, casting a warm glow on the polished floors and creating a serene, almost ethereal atmosphere. A mix of curiosity and excitement bubbled within me as I took in the new surroundings, my eyes wide with wonder. Everything here was different from what I was used to, and the unfamiliarity both thrilled and unnerved me.

Through the transparent windows, I spotted an old building in the west area. Its weathered facade, covered in ivy, contrasted sharply with the sleek, modern architecture around it. Ms. Carlaw had mentioned it was once the girls' school, but now it served as the headquarters for the Student Council and various clubs.

"It's hard to believe how much has changed since I was a student," Ms. Carlaw reminisced, gesturing to the sprawling campus. Her voice carried a hint of wistfulness, as if she too was grappling with the passage of time, her eyes reflecting a deep nostalgia.

"It's... definitely different," I said, glancing around. "The design is impressive, though." I tried to sound enthusiastic, but there was an underlying sense of disconnection. This wasn't just a new school for me; it was a whole new world to navigate and understand.

After a short walk, we arrived at the teacher's lounge. Ms. Carlaw opened the door with a welcoming smile, gesturing for me to enter. The lounge was smaller than I had expected, with small cubicles shared among the languages department. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and the soft hum of a distant conversation added to the cozy atmosphere.

Ms. Carlaw sat down at her desk and began searching for something in one of the drawers. The soft rustling of papers and the faint scent of her citrus perfume filled the air, creating a cozy atmosphere. After a moment, she pulled out a slender box wrapped in shiny paper secured with a lovely bow.

"These are homemade truffles that one of my students made for me as a token of appreciation. Each one has a unique flavor and design. You should try some," she said, lifting the lid of the box and revealing the treats inside.

I peeked into the box and saw an assortment of round chocolates, each one a miniature masterpiece. They were meticulously crafted with vibrant colors and intricate designs, making my mouth water just looking at them. There was one coated with white chocolate and colorful sprinkles, another with milk chocolate and crunchy nuts, a third with dark chocolate and elegant swirls, and a fourth with a green hue that suggested matcha.

"Come on, don't be shy," Ms. Carlaw urged gently, her smile widening as she noticed my reaction.

Wiping the drool from my lips, I reached for the milk chocolate, my fingers trembling with anticipation. The excitement bubbled within me, making my heart race. The smooth, creamy chocolate melted in my mouth, while the crunchy nuts provided a delightful contrast. The rich flavors danced on my tongue, elevating the experience to a new level.

"Do you like it? The student who made these is very gifted. Though I am sure that she won't admit it, she has the skill of becoming a talented pastry chef someday," Ms. Carlaw said, smiling at me.

Seeing my delight, Ms. Carlaw selected a truffle for herself. Her eyes twinkled with anticipation as she took a delicate bite, savoring the moment. She looked so blissful, her eyes closed in pure enjoyment, that I couldn't help but wish I could capture the moment forever. Watching her eat that chocolate would become the highlight of my day.

"Did you have any trouble in class today?" she asked, breaking the silence.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I remembered why we were here, the heat creeping up my neck. I cleared my throat as I recollected myself.

“It was okay, I guess. I understand the basic grammar and can read and write French, but I still struggle with pronunciation," I admitted, my voice tinged with embarrassment.

I had studied French remotely for a year before deciding to attend here, but I never had the chance to practice speaking in a group setting. My heart pounded and my palms grew clammy whenever I had to speak in front of everyone. The fear of mispronouncing words twisted my stomach into knots, a constant reminder of my anxiety.

Ms. Carlaw reached out and gently touched my hand, her warmth seeping into my skin, reassuring me. Don't worry, I'm here to support you. If you need any extra help or tutoring, just let me know," she said softly, her warm smile making my heart skip a beat.

As she squeezed my hand lightly, her touch lingering for a moment before she gently let go. The warmth of her hand made my heart flutter, and I had to resist the urge to blurt out my feelings of marrying her right then and there.

A sudden knock at the door jolted me back to reality. My thoughts scattered as I turned to see who it was. The person wore the same crisp uniform as the rest of the students, her presence commanding attention. As she walked in, her silverish-purple hair, woven into a French braid, shimmered under the fluorescent lights, giving her an ethereal quality.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt," she said, her mannerisms suggesting she was a senior at the school. Her voice flowed like a gentle melody, soothing and inviting. "Should I come back another time?"

"No, not at all, Violet," answered Ms. Carlaw as she casually waved at her to come inside. "Ellis, this young lady is a third-year student and also the Vice President of the Student Council."

My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected interruption, and I quickly straightened up, trying to appear composed. Violet's presence was both intimidating and mesmerizing, her every movement exuding confidence and grace.

They chatted easily, and I found myself learning more about both of them. Violet was in charge of clubs and student activities, while besides teaching French, Ms. Carlaw was a club advisor. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, and I found myself drawn into their world. Violet's eyes scanned the room briefly before settling on Ms. Carlaw, her lips curving into a polite smile. She moved with an effortless elegance, her steps light and purposeful.

"By the way, Ellis," Violet said as she turned to face me with a warm smile. "Do you have any clubs or activities you're interested in?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

I shrugged, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "I hadn't really thought about it," I admitted, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

Violet's eyes sparkled with genuine interest as she spoke, her warm smile putting me at ease. The idea of joining a club hadn't crossed my mind, and the prospect felt daunting. The gentle rustle of papers and the occasional creak of wooden chairs added to the serene ambiance. The cool breeze from the open window carried the distant sounds of students laughing and chatting in the courtyard.

"There are a lot of clubs that you can choose from," chimed Ms. Carlaw, her encouraging tone and friendly demeanor made the idea of joining a club seem less daunting. "While your primary goal should always be studying and getting a good education, it is important to immerse yourself in new experiences. If you want to improve your French, there's a club for that."

After handing the forms to Ms. Carlaw with a refined motion, her fingers brushing lightly against the paper. She turned to leave, her movements fluid and elegant, leaving a lingering sense of poise in her wake. As she said goodbye, the subtle trace of her body lotion hung in the air, a reminder of her graceful exit.

Returning to our discussion, Ms. Carlaw and I devised a fruitful action plan. She outlined a schedule for extra tutoring sessions and provided me with resources to help me catch up. Soon, she picked another truffle from the box and bit into it. Her lips parted slightly as she savored the taste, her expression one of pure bliss. The sight made my heart race, a reminder of the allure a mature woman had. We said our goodbyes, and as I left the room, my mind raced with thoughts of the day's events, the taste of chocolate still lingering on my tongue.

Part 4

The school day was over, and the corridors lay silent, punctuated only by the distant slam of a door or a janitor's muffled voice. The corridor was a long, narrow passage lined with lockers, their metal doors reflecting the dim light from the overhead fixtures. The floor was a checkerboard of worn tiles, each step echoing in the stillness. As I reached the exit, an enchanting melody froze me in place. The lyrics wrapped around me, each note tugging at my heart, drawing me closer like an invisible thread. The sound echoed through the empty corridors, amplifying its haunting beauty like a siren's call.

Turning the corner, I saw a girl standing by the window, her silhouette bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. The warm rays cast a golden halo around her, making her appear almost ethereal, like a vision from a dream. She was humming a familiar melody, but it was her presence that captivated me. Her fingers danced lightly on the windowsill as she hummed, her body swaying gently to the rhythm of the song.

"Poppy!" The name slipped from my lips before I could stop it, carried by a mix of surprise and longing.

Her movements were fluid and graceful, like a dancer lost in her own world. She seemed lost in her own world, her eyes distant and unfocused, as if she were somewhere far away. But then, she suddenly turned her head, and our eyes met. Recognition and emotion crashed over me, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. Before I could utter another word, she spun on her heel and fled, her footsteps echoing like a heartbeat in the empty corridor.

"Come back Poppy..." I cried out, my voice echoing through the deserted halls. "Wait! Please don't leave me again."

The chase led me to the west building, a relic of the past with its Victorian architecture, creaking floors, and dimly lit hallways. The scent of old wood and dust filled the air, a stark contrast to the sleek, modern east wing. This building had seen the school's transformation from an exclusive academy for girls for its inclusivity and accessibility. Walking through the halls, I felt a different vibe. The air was thick with history, the walls whispering secrets from the past. The creaking floors and dimly lit hallways added to the building's mysterious aura.

"Maybe I should give up and go home," I muttered to myself, feeling the weight of my fruitless chase. I had been chasing Poppy for what felt like an eternity, but she remained elusive, slipping through the maze of doors and corridors. My stomach growled, a sharp reminder of my hunger, as I glanced at my watch. Frustration bubbled up inside me, realizing I was getting nowhere.

Suddenly, a loud crash from one of the rooms jolted me out of my thoughts, echoing ominously through the deserted hallways. The sound reverberated off the walls, amplifying the sense of isolation. My pulse quickened, adrenaline surging through my veins, as I heard someone moaning in pain behind the slightly ajar door. My hands trembled as I pushed the door open wider, fear tightening its grip on me.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" I called out, my voice trembling despite my efforts to sound brave. The moaning continued, mingled with rustling sounds. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I pushed the door open wider, my heart pounding in my chest.

Stepping through the dimly lit room, the stench of decay hit me like a wave, making my stomach churn. The air was thick with the smell of rot and mildew, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. The shadows twisted and writhed, forming eerie shapes that danced in the dim light, playing tricks on my eyes. Each flicker of movement heightened my sense of dread, making my heart race. I could barely make out the figure on the floor, clutching their leg and writhing in pain.

"Poppy?" I whispered, taking a cautious step forward. The figure on the floor groaned and turned slightly, revealing a body contorted in agony.

But as the figure turned its head slightly, I realized it wasn't Poppy. It was someone, or something, else entirely. Suddenly, the shadows in the room coalesced, forming a dark, ghostly figure wearing a cracked beak mask. The mask seemed to stare into my soul with its hollow eyes, and a chill ran down my spine.

"Schnabelmaske," I breathed, recognizing the phantom specter.

Before I could react, Schnabelmaske let out a shriek that pierced the silence, sending a jolt of terror through me. The specter moved, its rotting limbs jerking unnaturally, while the shadows it commanded stretched out like grasping hands, eager to ensnare me. I turned and bolted from the room, the sound of its shrieks echoing behind me.

I raced down the corridor, my footsteps echoing off the walls in a frantic rhythm. The once familiar halls of Maple Ridge had transformed into a temple of doom, each turn and corridor a potential trap. The vibrant colors of the school faded into dull, lifeless shades of gray, the walls seeming to close in on me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the shadows stretching towards me, twisting and elongating as if they had a will of their own.

"Get back!" I yelled, my voice trembling with fear. "Please, just leave me alone!" My plea echoed down the empty corridor, swallowed by the oppressive silence.

Schnabelmaske's shrieks grew louder, and I felt its cold, malevolent presence closing in on me. The air around me grew frigid, my breath forming visible puffs in the icy gloom. The cold bit into my skin, making my fingers numb and clumsy. I needed to escape, but the school was deserted. A wave of panic gripped me as I realized I was alone, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. My thoughts raced as I searched for an exit, my mind barely able to process the terror I was feeling.

Each failed attempt at a door heightened my panic, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The hallways were eerily empty, the silence broken only by the distant, rhythmic tap of Schnabelmaske's cane against the floor. Each tap echoed like a countdown to my doom. I could almost feel the shadows clawing at my heels, threatening to drag me into the abyss. The world around me drained of color, the once vibrant school now a monochrome nightmare, every shadow pulsing with malevolence.

"You cannot escape your fate," it hissed, its voice a chilling whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

Frantically, I tried every door I passed, but each one was locked tight. The handles rattled uselessly in my grip, the sound echoing down the deserted hallways. My heart pounded louder with each failed attempt, the relentless tap of Schnabelmaske's cane growing ever closer, like a countdown to my doom. The cold seeped into my bones, numbing my fingers and making them clumsy as I fumbled with the handles, each one refusing to budge.

After what felt like an eternity, I spotted a door slightly ajar at the end of the hallway, a glimmer of hope in the oppressive darkness. My legs felt like lead, but I forced myself to move, each step a monumental effort as fear and exhaustion battled for control. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, praying this wasn't another dead end. I pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it quietly behind me.

"Run, little mouse. Run while you still can. But know this: every step you take brings you closer to me," its voice echoed, dripping with malice.

As I looked around the club room, I tripped over a fallen flashlight and stumbled to the ground. The flashlight rolled out of my grasp, its beam flickering weakly, casting eerie shadows that danced on the walls. I scrambled to my feet, my hands shaking, and grabbed the flashlight just in time to see the shadows closing in around me.

Schnabelmaske's form materialized in the darkness, its beak mask splitting apart in a grotesque grin that sent chills down my spine. The shadows reached out like clawed hands, grasping for me. I swung the flashlight wildly, the beam cutting through the darkness and momentarily blinding the specter. The specter let out another shriek, more chilling and desperate. I didn't have much time. I turned and sprinted down another hallway, my heart pounding in my ears.

The shrieks of Schnabelmaske echoed through the corridors, growing louder and more frenzied. I needed to find a way to stop it, but my options were dwindling. Seizing the opportunity, I dashed out of the club room and into the stairwell. My legs burned with exhaustion, but I couldn't stop now. I took the stairs two at a time, the shrieks and shadows following close behind.

"The roof... I need to get to the roof," I panted, pushing through the rooftop door. "Maybe the open space will weaken it."

Sweat dripped down my face as I crashed through the rooftop door, gasping for breath. The cool evening air hit me, offering a momentary relief. But I knew it wasn't over. Schnabelmaske's presence was still strong, and it was only a matter of time before it found me.

Desperation fueled my frantic search as my eyes darted across the rooftop, looking for anything that could serve as a weapon. A stack of metal rods and pipes left behind by maintenance workers caught my eye. I grabbed one of the rods, my knuckles turning white as fear coursed through my veins like ice.

"You think you can escape?" its voice echoed, dripping with malice.

The rooftop door slammed open, revealing Schnabelmaske. Its twisted form loomed menacingly in the fading twilight, casting long, eerie shadows. The specter let out a bone-chilling shriek, and the shadows surged forward, twisting and writhing like living tendrils, eager to ensnare me in their cold embrace.

With all my strength, I swung the rod wildly as the metal cut through the air and struck the specter with a sickening thud. The impact sent a shockwave up my arms, the metal rod vibrating violently. Schnabelmaske staggered back, its form flickering like a dying flame, casting eerie, shifting shadows on the walls. But it wasn't enough to stop it. The shadows regrouped, and the specter lunged at me with renewed fury. Cold tendrils snaked around my ankles, yanking me to the ground. The struggle was a fierce tug of war as the flashlight slipped from my grasp.

"No... please, don't..." I whispered, my vision blurring as darkness crept in. "They don't know what they're up against."

The creature had a revolting smile as it saw me pinned to the floor, its cold, shadowy form holding down one of my arms with an iron grip. Schnabelmaske hissed a single word, 'Decay,' and a searing pain shot through my left arm. Tears stung my eyes as my vision blurred. Doubt gnawed at me—was this the end? Suddenly, faint footsteps echoed down the corridor. My heart pounded in my chest. Someone was coming.

Hope flickered within me, but fear quickly followed. Listening to the voices, they must have ran up after hearing the commotion. Panic surged through me, my heart racing as I struggled against its icy grip. Their stomping became louder as the two continued approaching closer.

"He might not be able to make it," the first female said. "Toss it at the phantom specter when you spot it."

"You got it Pres!" replied the other female with a more subtle monotone voice.

Raising its cane like a conductor's baton, Schnabelmaske conjured shadows into dark, menacing spears. I wanted to scream a warning, but my vision blurred and my strength ebbed away. Darkness crept at the edges of my sight. I couldn't let them face this horror unprepared

As the two figures reached the door, multiple dark spears levitated above the ground, ready to strike, but vanished as a shimmering powder began raining down from the sky. The shimmering powder rained down, piercing through the shadows. The specter wailed in agony, its form flickering and disintegrating. The light pierced through the shadows, causing the specter to wail in pain, its form flickering and disintegrating.

Part 5

"Perhaps you should give him CPR," Claire adjusted her fake glasses, her voice as flat as ever, her expression unchanging.

Iris's hands fidgeted, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she avoided eye contact. “B-but I've never kissed a boy before…” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Besides, what does giving mouth-to-mouth have to do with helping him?"

As my consciousness slowly returned, flashes of my encounter with Schnabelmaske haunted me—the cold grip of shadows, the piercing shriek, the desperate struggle. The sweet scent of vanilla and sugar filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the ovens, a comforting contrast to the cold, dark encounter of the specter's chilling presence. I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of my surroundings, mostly trying to understand why there was a girl inches away from my face.

"You're awake!" a cheerful voice exclaimed. The older of the two girls had a large bow on top of her head, her eyes sparkling with relief. "So I know that you have lots of questions but right now you are safe and were brought back to the Home Ec. Room. By the way, I'm Iris Ozanne, and this girl is Claire Tuple."

"Oh balderdash," Claire muttered, adjusting the fake glasses from the rim of her nose. "I had hoped to validate my hypothesis about a prince's kiss awakening a princess. It seems fairy tales aren't as scientific as I'd hoped."

From pushing myself up with a groan, a sharp pain shot through my arm. My muscles felt stiff, as if I had been lying there for hours. The room was filled with the warm, comforting scent of freshly baked bread. Rows of sinks and ovens lined the walls, their polished surfaces reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lights, giving the space a cozy, yet industrious feel. My mind raced to piece together the events that led me here like how had I escaped Schnabelmaske? And who were these girls that had saved me?

"I can't believe you wanted me to do something so unscientific," Iris mumbled, still blushing. Realizing I was awake and listening, she quickly added, "Anyway, I know you must have a lot of questions, but the most important thing for now is to know that you're safe."

"Would you consent to us removing all of your clothes to confirm there is no other major injury. Preferably beginning with taking off your underwear." Claire asked, her face inexpressive, her platinum blonde hair framing her calm demeanor.

Her words made my heart race, and a hot flush of embarrassment spread across my face. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Before I could respond, a sharp pain shot through my arm, yanking me back to reality. I winced, clutching my arm as the memory of the phantom's attack resurfaced. What on earth was going on?

"You were attacked by a phantom," Iris explained, her tone turning serious. "We found you just in time and managed to fend it off with a special recipe."

Iris's fingers traced the edge of the table as she spoke, her movements deliberate and soothing. Claire's hands moved with practiced precision as she prepared the concoction, her focus unwavering. The distant sound of rain tapping against the window added a rhythmic backdrop to the tense conversation.

"Special recipe?" I echoed, my confusion growing. The soft rustle of fabric and the distant hum of the refrigerator added to the surreal ambiance.

"Yes," Claire said, her voice calm and measured. "We used a special blend of sugar, spices, and a few secret ingredients to create a concoction that repels specters. It's a recipe we've perfected in our club, La Patissiere.”

I pinched myself, half-expecting to wake up from this bizarre dream. The surreal nature of my surroundings—the warm, inviting kitchen filled with the scent of vanilla—clashed with the cold, dark memories of Schnabelmaske. The soft hum of the ovens, the rhythmic clinking of utensils, and the sweet aroma of freshly baked pastries filled the room, creating a cozy, dreamlike atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the terror I had just faced.

Iris nodded enthusiastically. "We're a student club that specializes in baking French desserts. I'm the president, and Claire here is the vice president." Iris' eyes were wide with concern, her hand gently resting on my shoulder. Claire's calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the chaos I felt inside, her steady gaze grounding me.

After multiple attempts at pinching myself and confirming that I was awake, Iris and Claire gently lifted me to my feet, their hands steady and reassuring. They guided me towards a cluster of desks and chairs, the room's warm light contrasting with the cold, oppressive fog that seemed to cling to my mind.

"Thank you for saving me," I said sincerely, my voice shaking. "I don't know what would have happened if both of you hadn't shown up."

"Don't mention it," Iris's smile was comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold night. But the fear still gnawed at me, lurking in the corners of my mind like a persistent shadow.

Slowly, I bit into a pastry, the sweet, buttery flavors melting in my mouth and sending a comforting surge of energy through my weary body. The rich taste was a stark contrast to the bitter cold and shadows of my encounter with Schnabelmaske.

"We used a special blend of herbs and ointments to bandage your arm as well," Claire said, her eyes studying me carefully. "You should be okay, but you might want to take it easy."

Apart from a few scuffs, I hadn't sustained any major injuries. I noticed my uniform jacket hanging neatly on a hook, the fabric freshly mended where the specter had torn it. While I was unconscious, Claire had taken the liberty of sewing up the area the specter had attacked. When I asked further, I learned it was also Claire who had bandaged my arm.

I nodded, a wave of gratitude washing over me, momentarily easing the tension that had gripped my heart. 'Thank you,' I said, my voice trembling with sincerity. As I glanced at the clock on the wall, my eyes widened in shock. "It's past six! I'm late!" I exclaimed, jumping to my feet. My heart raced as I realized how much time had passed.

"Wait, we still have questions!" Iris called out, but I was already out the door, sprinting down the hallway. Their voices echoed behind me, but my mind was a whirlwind of panic and urgency.

Part 6

Exhaustion hit me like a wave as I arrived at the hospital, the weight of my encounter with Schnabelmaske pressing heavily on my mind. My heart pounded as I tiptoed down the hallway, each step a cautious whisper against the polished floor. My nerves were on edge, every sound amplifying my anxiety. My luck ran out when I was caught by the elderly female nurse.

"Ellis! Late again, I see," Nurse Josephine, known to everyone as Joy, called out. She was a stout woman with a no-nonsense attitude, but her eyes softened when she saw the bandages on my arm. "What happened to you?" she asked, pulling on my ear gently but firmly.

"Ouch, Joy! It's a long story," I winced, trying to avoid her piercing gaze. Despite her stern exterior, the gentle tug on my ear and the softening of her eyes revealed her concern.

Joy sighed deeply, her stern facade softening. "Well, you can tell me later. For now, go see Wisteria. Those two have been waiting for you," she said, her voice softening. “She's been asking about you all day."

I nodded quickly, my heart raced as I hurried down the hallway. My footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor, each step bringing me closer to Wisteria. I pushed open the door to Wisteria's room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over her frail frame, propped up by pillows. The room smelled faintly of lavender, a soothing contrast to the sterile, antiseptic scent of the hospital. The soft hum of medical equipment blended with the gentle rustle of the curtains, creating a calm, almost serene atmosphere. Charlotte was sitting beside her; they must have been engaged in a lot of girl talk.

"Ellis, you're finally here!" Wisteria's soft voice greeted me, her eyes brightening despite her exhaustion.

"Sorry I'm late," I apologized, trying to catch my breath. I avoided mentioning the real reason for my tardiness, not wanting to worry them.

Charlotte, ever the big sister figure, gave me a playful glare and pulled my nose. "You better have a good excuse, mister," she teased.

I rubbed my nose, a sheepish smile spreading across my face. Their teasing warmth melted away the lingering fear from my encounter. "I got caught up with something at school." A cold shiver ran down my spine as the memory of the specter haunted my thoughts, its chilling presence lingering.

"Well, you're here now," Charlotte said, her tone softening. "Wait... why do you smell like cinnamon and nutmeg right now?"

I sniffed my jacket, the warm, comforting scent of cinnamon and nutmeg filling my nostrils. It reminded me of the Home Ec. Room and the strange events that had unfolded there. It must have been the special recipe that protected me. I quickly spun a tale to cover my tracks, hoping they wouldn't see through my hastily concocted story.

"So there I was helping an old lady at the market, and she invited me to bake cookies with her,” I explained as I made grand hand gestures to showcase my lie. The soft texture of the couch beneath me was a stark contrast to the cold shiver that ran down my spine. “She had this amazing recipe passed down through generations."

"Well alright, but I demand that you bake me those legendary cookies," Charlotte said as she looked at me.

Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise as she caught the scent, her curiosity piqued. Her playful smile softened into genuine concern as she noticed my lingering unease. Soon she reached into her bag and pulled out a fancy box of chocolates, the pleasant aroma of cocoa wafting through the room. My eyes widened as I recognized the box. It was the same one I had seen in the teacher's lounge earlier.

"Yep, I made them!" Charlotte said proudly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I spent all night baking them. Didn't they come out amazing?"

"They're incredible, Charlotte. You did an amazing job," Wisteria’s eyes widened in surprise, her face lighting up as she admired the beautiful craftsmanship.

Wisteria struggled for a while deciding on which flavor to try first. After a few minutes of being undecided she began a little rhyme saying out loud ‘eeny, meeny, miny, moe’. Landing on the milk chocolate, she took a piece and bit into it. The rich, creamy flavors melted in her mouth, her eyes closing in bliss as the chocolate's smooth texture and sweet aroma filled her senses. Her eyes sparkled with happiness as she savored the chocolate, and I couldn't help but smile, a warm glow of contentment spreading through me.

As I reached for a chocolate, Charlotte playfully smacked my hand away, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Hold on there, mister! Ladies first,” she said with a wink, her playful tone a reminder of the etiquette lessons kids learned growing up.

The three of us chatted and laughed, the warm glow of the bedside lamp casting a cozy light over us. The rich, velvety scent of chocolate mingled with the faint aroma of lavender from the sachets tucked into the pillows. The soft rustle of fabric and the occasional creak of the bed added to the comforting atmosphere. Charlotte's playful smack was light but firm, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

For a moment, the worries of the day melted away, replaced by the simple joy of being together. Charlotte's laughter rang out like a melody, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Wisteria's soft giggles were a gentle counterpoint, adding to the harmony of our conversation. I wished this moment could last forever, free from the shadows of Schnabelmaske. Not too long after, Dad arrived to pick us up. Charlotte wrapped Wisteria in a gentle hug, her voice soft as she promised to visit again soon.