Chapter 1: The Proctor Melts Away

They handed out these weird new test packets in the exam room.

The fluorescent lights above buzzed quietly, throwing a harsh, sterile glow across rows of battered desks. The packet felt way heavier than it should’ve—crisp, cold, almost like hospital paper against my fingertips. Nobody said a word as we all flipped it open. I braced for the usual math slog or some boring reading drill.

But across the whole sheet, there was just a single multiple-choice question—no instructions, no question, just this:

A. The proctor

B. Candidate number 11

C. Candidate number 22

I stared, confused. Was this a prank? Or just a misprint? The options were typed in that cold, official font, and the page was spotless—no sign of a mistake.

"Please answer within ten minutes."

The proctor’s voice was flat, almost bored, as he spoke. The timer on the wall started its slow, relentless countdown. My pulse spiked.

I glanced around. Everyone was looking at each other, confused.

A couple of kids in the back snickered. Someone up front muttered, "Is this for real?" Chairs creaked as people shifted, not sure whether to laugh or raise their hands. The air was thick, that weird tension you get before a storm.

I almost raised my hand to ask what was going on, but then—

The proctor just... melted into the chalkboard. One second he was there, and the next, all that remained was a human-shaped outline on the board.

He was there one second, tapping his pen. The next, he was dissolving—his face warping, body flattening into the board. The chalk squeaked as the outline burned itself in, his mouth frozen in a silent scream.

His face was still there—twisted in terror, clear as day on the board!

His eyes were wide, mouth gaping, like he was still trying to scream for help. My stomach twisted. The air stank of burnt chalk and something metallic—like blood.

Shocked, I felt a terrible suspicion creeping in—

My hands trembled as I stared at the outline. Was I hallucinating? Was this some sick joke? Or was the question itself... lethal?

Was this some kind of death lottery? Whoever got picked... died?

I glanced at the options again. My skin prickled. This was insane—but the evidence was right there, smeared across the chalkboard.

I hadn’t even picked an answer yet.

I looked down at my blank answer sheet. My pencil hovered. Suddenly, it felt like a weapon.

Maybe someone already picked an answer. Maybe the test was reading our minds.

My knuckles were white as I gripped the desk.

I tried to calm down, but it was already chaos.

Chairs scraped back. Someone screamed. Panic crashed through the room like a broken dam.

"What just happened?"

A kid in a varsity jacket was standing, eyes wide, looking from the chalkboard to his friends. His voice cracked, high with fear. For a second, nobody answered—just the sound of frantic breathing.

"How could the teacher disappear? Is he... is he dead?"

A girl near the window had tears streaming down her face. She was clutching her test packet, knuckles white.

"This is freaky... Run! Get out of here!" Someone yelled, "Run!" and the whole room lurched.

Desks crashed together as kids rushed for the door. Pure panic.

...

But then I noticed something—a tiny line of rules printed at the bottom of the packet.

It was almost hidden, tucked away in fine print. My heart skipped. That rule felt more like a threat than a guideline.

No way was I moving.

I pressed myself back in my chair. Every muscle was tense.

I had to play by the rules. At least for now.

Of course, in the chaos, a few kids made a break for it.