The Confession Page

Prologue

I don't know why I opened that notification.

Maybe because I had nothing else to do. Or maybe because I had gotten used to checking every new post on NU Confessions, especially since I was part of the campus publication. It was already 11:47 p.m. Our exam was tomorrow, but instead of reviewing, I was lying on my bed, mindlessly scrolling through my phone.

The entire dormitory was quiet. Outside the window, I could hear the faint sound of passing vehicles and the occasional bark of a dog. Then my phone suddenly vibrated.

NU Confessions posted a new confession.

I smiled faintly.

Notifications like this weren't new to me. Our university's confession page was filled with anonymous posts almost every day. Some students confessed their crushes, some complained about professors, some were looking for someone to talk to, and others used the page to reveal secrets about people they knew.

Sometimes, they were funny.

Sometimes, they were annoying.

And sometimes, it was unsettling how many things a person could hide behind an anonymous account.

I opened the post.

CONFESSION #8471

“Some people think everyone has already forgotten what happened last year.”

I froze for a few seconds.

I didn't know why, but there was something strangely heavy about that simple sentence. I read it again.

Some people think everyone has already forgotten...

There was no name. No photo. No other details.

The comments were already filling up with questions.

"What is this about?"

"Spill, admin."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Did something happen last year?"

I shook my head and scrolled down. This was probably going to be another post that everyone would be talking about on campus the next day.

Before I could close the post, my phone vibrated again.

Another notification.

NU Confessions posted a new confession.

“That was fast.”

I opened it.

CONFESSION #8472

“Not everyone who disappears wants to be found.”

I frowned.

For some reason, I liked this post even less.

Maybe because it sounded far more serious than the usual confessions on the page. Or maybe because a part of me felt like I had heard those words before.

I decided not to think about it.

I turned off my screen and placed my phone beside my pillow. Then I picked up my notebook and tried to study.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

I hadn't understood a single thing.

Eventually, I reached for my phone again.

There was another notification.

CONFESSION #8473

This time, there was no caption.

Only a photograph.

I opened it.

The picture showed a dark hallway. The corridor was long, its far end almost impossible to see. The ceiling lights were dim, and the entire place looked as if no one had walked through it in years.

Beneath the photograph was a single sentence.

“Does anyone still remember?”

I didn't lower my phone.

Something about the picture made me feel uneasy.

It was familiar.

I didn't know where I had seen it before, but there was a strange feeling in my chest, as if I had been there once.

I tapped the photo and zoomed in.

The walls became clearer.

The windows along the side.

The old doors.

And the hallway leading toward the end.

I suddenly sat upright on my bed.

I knew that place.

The old building.

I didn't need to see its name to know exactly where it was.

That building had not been used by the university for a long time. Hardly anyone went there anymore, and anyone who had a reason to enter needed permission.

But that wasn't the strangest part.

Something caught my attention on the right side of the photograph.

A small object was hanging from a doorknob.

A red ID lace.

I instinctively touched the ID around my neck.

Same color.

Same design.

I didn't know why, but suddenly, I felt nervous.

Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Maybe another student used the same kind of ID lace.

That was what I wanted to believe.

But the longer I stared at the photograph, the stronger one question became in my mind.

Why did I feel like I knew the exact place where this picture had been taken?

I looked at the caption again.

Does anyone still remember?

I didn't know who the admin was asking.

I didn't even know what I was supposed to remember.

Only a few seconds had passed when my phone vibrated again.

This time, it wasn't from NU Confessions.

Unknown Number

I didn't open it immediately.

I simply stared at the notification on my screen.

Something inside me told me not to.

But my curiosity was stronger.

I opened the message.

There was only one sentence.

“Don't try to remember.”

I swallowed hard.

I didn't know who had sent it.

I didn't know how they had gotten my number.

Before I could even think of a reply, another message appeared.

“Because when you remember...”

I stopped breathing for a moment.

Three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen.

They were typing.

A few seconds later, the final message arrived.

“...she'll remember you too.”

My hands went cold.

I couldn't understand what that meant.

Who was she?

And why me?

I couldn't stop myself from looking around the room.

Everything was still quiet.

The window was closed.

The door was locked.

I was alone.

At least, that was what I knew.

Then I heard something.

Knock.

I looked toward the door.

I didn't move.

Maybe I had imagined it.

A few seconds later, there was another knock.

Knock.

Louder this time.

I sat up straight on my bed.

I didn't know whether I should go to the door or call someone.

But before I could decide, there was a third knock.

Knock.

Three times.

The same interval.

The same sound.

And in that instant, I remembered something.

I didn't know where the memory had come from.

I didn't know why it had returned now.

But before I could fully understand what it was, my phone vibrated again.

A new notification from NU Confessions.

CONFESSION #8474

I opened it with trembling hands.

There was no photograph.

No long confession.

Just one sentence.

And when I read it, all the fear in my body seemed to disappear.

Because for the first time that night, I was certain this wasn't a coincidence.

“Mika, I know you're awake.”