RINA.EXE

Fog clung to the mountains like an old spider’s web, thick and unmoving, as the black sedan rolled to a stop in front of a towering iron gate. Behind it loomed a gothic-style building—grand, silent, and unsettling in its stillness. A weathered wooden sign hung overhead, its faded letters barely legible: St. Celestine’s Girls’ Academy – Dormitory Wing II Rina stared out of the car window, her breath fogging the glass. Her hands tightened around the straps of the backpack on her lap. She took a deep breath. The air here was damp and cold—nothing like the city she had left behind. “We’re here, Miss,” the driver finally said. An older man with a strong Javanese accent, he met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Thank you,” Rina murmured. Her voice was barely audible over the wind that crept into the car as the door opened. Her foot touched the ground—soft, almost spongy from the moisture in the earth—and a strange heaviness pressed against her chest. Like something was watching her. Pulling her down. But she shook it off. It was just nerves. A woman in a stiff grey blazer stood just beyond the gate, holding a clipboard. Her glasses magnified her sharp eyes, and though her smile was faint, her gaze was clinical—dissecting, measuring. “Rina Zahra? Transfer student from Serang Public High?” the woman asked without introduction. “Yes, Ma’am.” “I’m Ms. Herlina. Dorm warden. Follow me. We’ll handle paperwork tomorrow. For now, let’s get you to your room,” she said briskly, turning on her heel. Rina grabbed her suitcase and followed in silence, the gravel path crunching beneath her shoes. In the distance, a bell tolled once—loud, hollow, and misplaced. 4:04 PM. Her watch was certain. “That bell hasn’t worked properly in years,” Ms. Herlina said offhandedly, as if plucking the thought straight from Rina’s mind. “Rings when it wants. Some say it rings for those who shouldn't be here.” Rina almost stumbled. They passed a small garden with a stone statue of a woman in a flowing gown. The statue’s eyes seemed to follow them. Rina looked away, then back. For a moment—just a flicker—she thought it smiled. “Don’t wander around at night,” Ms. Herlina said suddenly, her voice lower. “Especially near that garden.” “Why not?” Rina asked. “Because sometimes, the ones you can’t see... decide to walk beside you.” Rina froze. But Ms. Herlina didn’t elaborate. She just kept walking. The dorm building was older than the main hall, with wooden floorboards that creaked under every step. They climbed a narrow staircase to the second floor and stopped in front of Room 2B. Ms. Herlina unlocked it and pushed the door open. The room smelled of damp wood and something older—like dust that had settled into the walls. It was bare, save for two beds, two desks, and a small window. “You’re getting this room because the last occupant... left unexpectedly,” Ms. Herlina said, handing over a key and a folded schedule. “Her things are gone.” “What happened to her?” Rina asked. Ms. Herlina hesitated. Just a flicker in her expression. Then: “Not important.” And just like that, she was gone. Alone, Rina unpacked her clothes, hung her uniform, and tried to ignore the sense that the room wasn’t entirely empty. She reached into the desk drawer and found something wedged inside. A small, crumpled notebook. On the first page, scribbled in faded ink: “If you're reading this, you're already trapped. Trust no one. Not even your own shadow.” Her blood ran cold. Then—footsteps. In the hallway. Slow. Heavy. Drawing closer. She held her breath and crept to the door. Nothing. The corridor was empty. But when she turned back— The window, which had been tightly shut… was now wide open. The curtain fluttered gently in the wind, as though waving to her.