The lights in the auditorium dimmed.
They faded slowly, bit by bit, casting a soft glow.
The host’s voice drifted from the center of the stage, saying something like, “Please welcome tonight’s band.” The spotlights expanded from the center toward the wings, finally settling on the drum kit.
Gwen sat there, spinning a drumstick around her fingertips.
She took a deep breath, forcing the messy thoughts out of her mind—Ryan Quinn standing with Mary Jane, Mary Jane leaning in to whisper in his ear, him leaning slightly toward her.
She threw it all out.
The drumsticks fell.
The first song was a cover of an old track, featuring a bright tempo and dense beats.
Gwen’s hands rose and fell rapidly across the drumheads, hitting every beat with dead-on precision.
The distractions in her mind were suppressed by the rhythm, and her body found a certain equilibrium within the music.
The song ended quickly.
Applause and whistles erupted from below the stage.
Gwen panted slightly, fine beads of sweat lining her forehead.
She looked up, her gaze instinctively searching the crowd for a specific person— But the stage lights were too bright.
From Gwen’s vantage point, the audience was a dark blur.
Shadows shifted and moved indistinctly, and as the lights swept over her head, her eyes soon grew bleary.
She couldn’t see anything clearly.
Gwen lowered her eyes and let out a breath.
She couldn’t quite describe the feeling.
Beside her, Betty tuned her guitar strings and whispered, “The school song is next.
Ready?” “Yeah.” Gwen raised her drumsticks and nodded.
The school song.
They had performed this piece countless times—opening ceremonies, graduations, school anniversaries, and various other school events whose names she couldn’t remember.
Every note was etched into her muscle memory; she could play the entire thing with her eyes closed.
Which meant she could cast her gaze toward the audience while she played.
The sticks fell, and the familiar melody echoed through the auditorium.
The prelude to the school song had an indescribable effect—the rowdiest students would fall silent, and even the most distracted teachers would look up.
The students below began to hum along with the melody, their voices growing from a sparse few to a steady rhythm, finally merging into a low wave of sound.
Gwen’s gaze moved slowly through the darkness.
First, she scanned the area directly in front of the stage—the teachers and staff.
She saw Mr.
Harrington, the Midtown High science teacher who was rumored to be up for a promotion to principal soon.
He was standing by the door, talking to a blonde woman.
Gwen didn’t recognize her; she wore a dark dress, and her skin was unnaturally pale, looking somewhat strange under the lights by the auditorium entrance.
Gwen didn’t think much of it.
Her gaze continued to move.
Then she saw Ryan Quinn.
To be precise, she felt him.
Her gaze caught a silhouette in the darkness: leaning against the wall, dressed in a black suit, tall and slender.
No one was near him; he was alone.
And beside him—Mary Jane was standing at his side, her red hair still striking in the darkness, her head tilted as she said something to him.
Gwen delivered a heavy strike to the snare.
The sound was louder than intended.
Betty glanced back at her, and Gwen shook her head slightly, indicating she was fine.
The school song continued.
She forced herself to pull her gaze away from that direction and refocus on the drums.
She told herself it was none of her business.
Who Mary Jane talked to was Mary Jane’s business, and who Ryan Quinn talked to was his.
She was just here to play the drums, and she’d leave as soon as she was done.
But her eyes couldn’t help but drift back again.
This time, her gaze locked right with Ryan Quinn’s.
It was only for a split second.
The stage lights stood between them, the crowd surged below, and the students were still singing the school song—but their eyes met.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Then she looked away, pretending nothing had happened.
The school song reached its final section.
The sticks hit a final accent on the snare, and Betty’s guitar let out a clear tail-end note as the entire piece slowly drew to a close amidst the unified choir of voices.
Gwen was just about to set her sticks down when suddenly— *Thud.* The sound wasn’t loud.
It sounded like something heavy and wet hitting the floor.
If it weren’t for her Spider-sense making her exceptionally sensitive to abnormal noises, she might not have even noticed.
But the Spider-sense went off.
A dull buzzing—she couldn’t say exactly what was wrong, but it made her skin crawl.
Gwen looked up, toward the direction of the sound—the auditorium entrance.
Mr.
Harrington was lying on the ground.
The blonde woman stood beside him, looking down at him.
In the fading glow of the stage lights, Gwen saw something dark red dripping from the woman’s hand.
Then came the screams.
A dozen people screamed simultaneously, the sound exploding from the auditorium entrance and spreading in all directions.
The students standing closest saw something first—Gwen didn’t know what they saw—but their faces turned ashen, their eyes went wide, and their mouths hung open as they let out shrieks that didn’t sound human.
*Bang!
Bang!
Bang!* The lights went out.
Every light went out at once.
The stage spotlights died, the wall sconces followed, the ceiling chandeliers darkened, and even the green emergency exit signs vanished.
In less than half a second, the entire auditorium plunged into a darkness where one couldn’t see their own hand in front of their face.
Gwen’s eyes could see nothing.
But her ears were filled with sound—people screaming, people wailing, tables and chairs flipping over with loud crashes, glass shattering on the floor, high heels slipping and falling, and countless people surging toward the door at once.
It was total chaos.
“Gwen!
Gwen!” Betty’s voice exploded in her ear, and a cold hand grabbed her wrist.
“Run!
Toward the door!” Gwen was hauled off her drum stool by Betty, stumbling onto the stage floor.
Her foot stepped on something soft—she didn’t know what it was and didn’t have time to think.
Betty pulled her toward the edge of the stage, and they jumped down.
She could see nothing in the dark.
Betty’s grip on her wrist was painfully tight, and the crowd surged from all directions, pushing and shoving until she could barely breathe.
“Don’t push!
Don’t push—!” someone shouted, their voice quickly drowned out by the screams.
“Let me out!” “You’re stepping on me—!” “Mom—!” She was pushed forward.
Her feet stepped on soft things several more times; she didn’t dare imagine what they were.
Her Spider-sense was completely useless in this turmoil; danger was everywhere, making it impossible to distinguish a specific threat.
The students who reached the door first began to push.
The door wouldn’t open.
Fists pounded against the door panels, producing dull thuds.
Someone kicked the door, and the metal handle was twisted until it groaned.
The door didn’t budge.
More people surged forward.
Those at the very front were crushed against the door, letting out groans of pain.
Those behind kept pushing, unaware of what was happening at the front, their minds possessed by a single thought—get out of here.
“Go to the fire exit in the back!
Everyone get to the damn fire exit!
Move!” A roar exploded through the darkness.
Gwen recognized the voice—Ms.
Warren, the Midtown High science teacher.
She was in her forties, heavily built, and never afraid to shout back at students.
Gwen didn’t know how Ms.
Warren had pushed her way to the door, nor how she had found those hysterical students in the dark.
She only heard a crisp slapping sound, followed by Larry’s yelp (“Who hit me—?!”), and then Ms.
Warren’s roars grew louder and louder.
“Run to the fire exit!
Don’t push!
If anyone pushes again, I’ll handcuff them to a chair!” The direction of the crowd began to shift.
The flow of people surged toward the fire safety exit at the back of the auditorium.
Gwen was pulled by Betty and pushed by the crowd, stumbling through the pitch-black hall.
Betty’s heavy, ragged breathing was right in her ear.
“Almost—there—almost there—” Betty’s voice was fragmented.
Gwen’s foot stepped in some liquid.
It was wet and sticky, making her soles slide on the floor.
She didn’t dare think about what it was.
The fire exit was ahead.
A faint sliver of moonlight filtered in through the edge of the door frame.
Betty pushed the door open.
Cold wind rushed in, carrying the scent of rain and earth.
Gwen was hauled out, stumbling onto the concrete ground, her knee knocking against something.
She hissed in pain.
“Are you okay?” Betty knelt down, hands steadying her shoulders.
“I’m fine.” Gwen panted, glancing back at the fire door as it swung shut.
In the final moment before the door closed, her gaze pierced through the dark auditorium and saw the silhouette of the blonde woman at the entrance.
The woman stood where she was.
Chaos surrounded her, screams echoed everywhere, but she just stood there, motionless.
She was covered in something dark red.
The corners of her mouth curled up slightly; she was smiling.
The door shut.
Gwen’s heart hammered against her ribs.
She used Betty’s hand to stand up.
Her knee still throbbed, but she couldn’t afford to care.