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墨書 Inktalez
**Third Year Class Three Seat Anomaly Record**
September 2, 2024 | Monday | Weather: Super Hot (Why can't school start in winter?)
Today is the first day of school, third year.
My mom woke me up early, and then I ended up being late. I ran to the convenience store to buy a bottle of iced tea, but on my way to school, I got caught by the instructor, who scolded me for "running around outside in uniform." Come on, I'm not working at a night market. Luckily, he didn't see the iced tea when I stuffed it into my backpack, so I guess this bottle will be my lucky charm for today (?)
The classroom has completely rearranged the seating. I'm sitting in the second row by the window, with Chen Youcheng in front of me and behind me... well, I don't know. It's strange; everyone says the person behind me is a Transfer Student, but I remember our homeroom teacher only handed out 39 class schedules this morning. There should only be 40 of us in class, so why is there someone sitting in the last row during roll call?
During lunch break, I wanted to take a nap, but a small voice from behind said, "Excuse me, can I borrow your notes?" I turned around but didn't see anyone. However, there was indeed a stack of notebooks on the desk. I picked one up and looked at it; it was filled with answers to math exercises—all correct. But we haven't even had that class yet!
Later, A Ming said that when he came back from the restroom, he saw someone sitting in the chair behind me flipping through books. But he couldn't see their face; he only remembered that they were wearing a hat with the school emblem. Who wears a hat indoors at our school?
September 3, 2024 | Tuesday | Weather: Rainy, so annoying
I'm starting to think I might really be sleep-deprived... During math class today, when the teacher called out my seat number behind me, there was a pause before she skipped over it. It was super obvious. I asked the teacher if we had a Transfer Student, and she said, "Not confirmed yet; that seat will remain empty for now."
But all day long, I kept hearing someone flipping through textbooks behind me. Sometimes I even heard this rhythmic sound—like fingers tapping on the desk. It was super rhythmic, like "tap—tap-tap—tap—tap-tap-tap," not just random tapping; it felt more like... a code? I don't know.
When I napped in the afternoon, I dreamed that I was sitting in my original seat, but the classroom was empty—no one in front or beside me. Only That Chair behind me had someone sitting there looking at me. They had no face.
When I woke up, that bottle of iced tea on my desk was gone and had turned into... a cup of black ink? It was thick like fountain pen ink, but no one admitted to putting it there. A Ming suggested that maybe I sleepwalked, but that's not something I do, and besides, my desk is locked.
While cleaning today, I passed by the Academic Affairs Office and saw a roll call book on the desk; it happened to be ours. The last seat number 44 had been crossed out and rewritten, with a faint red fingerprint next to it as if someone had pressed their finger there.
Tomorrow I want to try sitting in that position early on purpose to see if anything happens.
If I don’t write tomorrow’s entry, please tell my mom that I didn’t skip school; I just sat in the wrong spot.
September 4, 2024 | Wednesday | Weather: Forgot
I arrived at school at five-thirty today. The hallway was dark, but the classroom door was open.
I walked in, and the air was icy—not the kind of cold from air conditioning, but the kind that feels like a damp towel draped over your face.
I sat down.
I was in seat 44.
It was… very quiet; at first, there was nothing at all.
Then I heard the sound of chalk, but nothing was written on the blackboard. When I looked down, words began to slowly emerge on my desk, line by line, like a watermark.
"This is your seat."
"You should have always been here."
"Sit still."
"Don't move."
"Don't ask anymore."
I stood up, wanting to run, but my feet wouldn’t move, and my eyes wouldn’t obey either. I kept staring at the storage cabinet in the back right corner of the classroom… it started to open, as if something was trying to crawl out, but I couldn’t see it. It was a sound—the rhythm of fingers tapping on the desk had transformed into a heartbeat.
When I woke up, it was already the last class of the afternoon. The whole class was in geography, and the teacher asked where I had been. I said I was in the classroom. He replied, "Isn’t your seat in the second row by the window? You didn’t come to class today."
I looked down; my chair was gone. I was sitting on the floor, my notebook spread open, filled with that one phrase: "Sit still sit still sit still sit still sit still sit still sit still sit still sit still sit still."
It felt like I couldn’t leave that spot anymore.
September 5 September 6 September 7 September 8 September 9 (the diary was crossed out)
44 44 44 44
Where did You Cheng go? His head blocked my view of the blackboard. I poked him with my pen; he didn’t move. He wasn’t You Cheng anymore; he was the You Cheng I had written down. How could he sit in front of me? How could he?
It sat down. It said it missed studying; it said we were going to take the College Entrance Exam together. I said I had already taken it. It laughed and said I hadn’t finished yet.
I haven't submitted the assignment yet.
I'm sorry, I will sit properly. I will sit properly. I won't change my position again. I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't, I won't.
(This page shows a large amount of repeated writing; the ink has seeped through to the back of the paper. The diary was found by a cleaner on September 11 and submitted to the Student Affairs Office.)
[Attachment: Record | Summary of School Affairs Meeting | File Number: 3C-442-A]
Record Time: September 13, 2024, 14:00-14:45
Meeting Topic: Internal Explanation and Response Strategy Regarding the Abnormal Seating Incident in Third Year Class Three
Attendees: Director of the Principal's Office, Personnel Director, Deputy Director of the Academic Affairs Office, Student Affairs Office Counseling Group, Representative Contact Teacher (Teacher Wang)
Record Summary:
Regarding the authenticity of the diary content and student identity verification:
The diary has been confirmed to belong to a student from Third Year Class Three; the handwriting matches their usual notes.
However, this student has not attended school since September 10. The parents reported that they "prepare to leave every morning but find them still sitting at their desk in the corner of their room in the afternoon, repeatedly copying notes."
Regarding Seat Number 44 Record:
The Academic Affairs Office data shows that this class originally only had seats numbered up to 43.
The Electronic Roll Call System generated "Seat Number 44: Present" automatically between September 4 and September 9, but no teacher actually registered that entry.
The physical seating chart was altered by students and has been sent to the Counseling Office for handwriting comparison.
Report from the homeroom teacher and class status:
The homeroom teacher indicated that seat changes were scheduled by the system; the seat originally located in the second row by the window was in a "vacant status."
Several students privately mentioned that "the transfer student wearing a hat" had borrowed notes, but no faculty member has seen them in person.
**Counseling Group Recommendations:**
Designate the Third Year Class Three as a "Potentially Abnormal Observation Class," implementing intensive interviews and morning mental state records.
It is suggested to block the Third Row Seat at the back of the classroom and seal the chair legs with tape at night.
**Additional Notes:**
According to the cleaning staff, every evening during cleaning, the chair in that position automatically resets to face the podium.
An unsigned internal communication was found in the podium drawer, stating only: "I have submitted the assignment; now it's your turn."
**Meeting Conclusions:**
- The event is tentatively classified as a "Student Overwork-Induced Psychological Collective Phenomenon," with further handling delegated to the Student Affairs Office.
- Teachers are advised to remind students to avoid spreading false rumors, refrain from leaving the last seat in the Third Row empty, and uniformly use the New Class Seating Chart.
**Meeting End Time:** 14:45
**Recorder:** Academic Affairs Secretary
[This record is archived in R-2 Psychological Counseling and Abnormal Behavior Observation Files]
[Attachment Supplement | Private Memo from Third Year Class Three Teacher (Unofficial Version)]
**Recorder:** Teacher Wang (Third Year Class Three Teacher)
**Record Time:** September 14, 2024, 01:24 AM (handwritten in the staff lounge)
——This is not an official report; I just... I’m not sure how to tell them, and I don’t know what to say.
I always thought it was just the pressure of being a student, but now I find myself dreaming too.
In my dream, I sit in the farthest corner of the classroom, in the last row against the wall, That Chair... That Chair has never been officially assigned a spot on the seating chart, yet it always appears. From certain angles, it looks different from the other chairs. It’s older, with bent legs and cracks on its surface. Once, I even saw the words "Not Graduated" written on the backrest.
In my dream, a student wearing our school uniform sits in That Chair. He has no face, but he keeps staring at the blackboard. The blackboard is filled with the words "Submit Assignment," as if etched in chalk.
The student turns to me and hands me a stack of papers. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he wants me to take them. His hand is as cold as stone, and I dare not refuse. The papers don’t contain assignments; they are names—every name belonging to a student in our class, each followed by a date.
Some of those dates are in the future.
I don’t dare to ask what "Submit Assignment" means. I begin to suspect that there might be someone in our class who isn’t real—someone... I didn’t choose to be here.
But he sits there firmly; every time I call roll, I automatically skip over that Empty Seat. It feels like I've never truly seen who occupies that spot.
Today, I tried to muster the courage to ask a fellow student, "Do you remember where you sit?" He replied casually, "I sit at 44." He said it so naturally, as if this was never something to doubt.
But I clearly remember he used to sit in the middle of the Third Row.
…If one day I forget where my original seat is, will That Chair be waiting for me to occupy it?
I will continue to observe, but I won’t touch That Chair again—no matter where it is tomorrow morning.
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