The Confession Page

Chapter 3 - The Photograph

By the time our publication meeting ended, it was already late afternoon. Most of the other members had started leaving, but Lara and I stayed behind to finish editing the articles that needed to be submitted the following day. I tried to focus on the document in front of me, but my attention kept drifting back to the old building. More specifically, to the photograph from NU Confessions.

I had opened the confession page several times since lunch, but I never found the courage to look at the picture for too long. Part of me was afraid that if I stared at it enough, I might notice something I wasn't supposed to see. Still, curiosity eventually won. I unlocked my phone and opened NU Confessions. The post was still there.

CONFESSION #8473

The photograph appeared on my screen again. The same dark hallway. The same old doors. The same red ID lace hanging from the doorknob. I stared at it for a few seconds before zooming in. There was something about the picture that bothered me. It wasn't just the location. There was something else—something I couldn't quite identify.

I turned to Lara. “Can I ask you something?”

She looked up from her laptop. “That depends. Is this about our deadline?”

“No.”

“Then sure.”

I hesitated before turning my phone toward her. “Do you recognize this person?”

Lara leaned closer to the screen. Her expression changed almost immediately. It wasn't dramatic, but it was enough for me to notice. She took the phone from my hand and looked at the photograph again before asking, “Where did you get this?”

“NU Confessions.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

She looked at me. “Why?”

“I don't know. Someone posted it.”

Lara stared at the screen for a few more seconds before handing the phone back. “I don't think that's just some random student.”

My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”

She leaned back in her chair. “I think I've seen her before.”

I looked at the photograph again. There was barely a visible figure near the end of the hallway. The person was too far away to identify clearly, but there was enough of a silhouette to suggest that it was a girl standing there when the picture was taken.

“You're sure?”

“Not completely.”

“Then how do you know?”

Lara was quiet for a moment before answering. “I remember hearing about someone who used to study here. A few years ago.”

“Who?”

She shook her head. “I don't remember her name.”

“That doesn't sound very convincing.”

“I was still in high school when it happened. It wasn't exactly something people talked about openly.”

I frowned. “What happened?”

Lara glanced toward the door of the publication office before lowering her voice. “There was an incident in the old building.”

I felt a strange chill run through me.

“What kind of incident?”

“I don't know all the details.”

“Then tell me what you do know.”

She sighed and closed her laptop. “There was a student. I think she was a second-year or third-year student. People said she disappeared for a while.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yeah. No one knew where she went. At least, that's what people said.”

I stared at her. “And then?”

“She came back.”

My eyebrows drew together. “That's it?”

“No. That's the strange part.” She paused for a moment. “After she came back, something happened in the old building.”

“What happened?”

Lara shook her head. “That's where the stories become confusing. Everyone seemed to have a different version.”

I leaned closer. “What versions?”

“Some said she got into a fight with someone. Others said she was being bullied. Someone even claimed she was involved in some kind of secret group. But none of those stories were ever confirmed.”

“And the university?”

“They never really talked about it.”

I looked down at my phone. The photograph suddenly felt heavier in my hand.

“So what happened to her?”

Lara looked uncomfortable. “She left.”

“Transferred?”

“That's what people said.”

“Did she?”

“I don't know.”

I stared at her. “You're telling me there's a former student connected to some incident in that building, and nobody knows what actually happened?”

“Pretty much.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Welcome to university rumors.”

I didn't laugh. Something about the conversation felt wrong. I looked at the photograph again—the old hallway, the dark windows, the red ID lace, and the figure standing near the end.

“What was her name?”

Lara hesitated before answering.

“I think it was Adriana.”

The name hit me harder than I expected.

I don't know why. It wasn't familiar. At least, I didn't think it was. But the moment Lara said it, something inside my head shifted.

A faint image flashed through my mind.

A hallway.

Someone laughing.

A girl's voice.

A hand reaching toward a door.

Then nothing.

I blinked and looked at Lara.

“Mika? you okay?”

“Yeah.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You suddenly went pale.”

“I just...” I stopped, unable to explain what had just happened. “Nothing. I think I'm just tired.”

Lara didn't look convinced, but she didn't push me. Instead, she picked up her phone and began searching for something.

“Wait.”

“What are you doing?”

“I'm trying to remember where I heard the name.”

A few moments later, she stopped scrolling.

“I found something.”

She turned her screen toward me.

It was an old student forum post. The page looked like it hadn't been updated in years, and the title immediately caught my attention.

“Does anyone remember what happened at the old building?”

My heart started beating faster.

Lara scrolled down. The comments were mostly old and vague.

“Don't talk about it.”

“That happened years ago.”

“Just leave it alone.”

“Ask the old publication members.”

“Some things are better forgotten.”

I swallowed. “Why would people react like that?”

“I told you. People don't really talk about it anymore.”

“Because of Adriana?”

“I don't know.”

We sat in silence for a moment. Then I noticed something at the bottom of the page—a comment posted by an anonymous user. The account had no profile picture and no name, only one sentence.

“She didn't leave.”

I stared at it.

“What does that mean?”

Lara shook her head. “I don't know.”

I read it again.

She didn't leave.

For some reason, the words made my chest feel tight. I scrolled farther down, but there were no more comments. Eventually, I locked my phone.

“Maybe we should stop looking into this.”

Lara nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

But neither of us moved.

After a few seconds, I opened the confession page again. The photograph was still there, but this time, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. Near the bottom corner of the photograph was a small reflection on the floor—a red strip of color, the same color as the ID lace.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“Lara.”

“What?”

“Look.”

She leaned toward the screen. For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she whispered, “That's not the same ID lace.”

I looked at her. “What?”

“The one hanging on the door.”

She pointed at the photograph. “Look at the reflection.”

I zoomed in. The red object hanging from the door was visible, but its reflection on the floor showed something slightly different. It looked like another person was standing just outside the frame—someone wearing a red ID lace, someone who wasn't visible anywhere else in the photograph.

My breathing became shallow.

“That's impossible.”

Lara didn't answer.

I stared at the screen, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Then another thought crossed my mind.

If Adriana was connected to the old incident, why had someone posted this picture now? Why had they sent it to a confession page?

More importantly, why had they sent a warning directly to me?

I closed the photograph.

For a moment, I thought about telling Lara everything—the unknown number, the messages, the knocking, and the final confession. But something stopped me. I didn't know why. Maybe I was afraid she would think I was imagining things. Or maybe I was afraid that if I told someone else, whatever was happening would become real.

So instead, I simply said, “Let's go.”

Lara nodded. We packed our things and left the publication office together.

As we walked across campus, I looked toward the old building one last time. The second-floor window was still dark, but this time, I was almost certain I saw a figure standing behind it.

A girl.

She was standing completely still.

I stopped.

I blinked.

The window was empty.

I told myself it had only been a reflection. It had to be.

But as I walked away, my phone vibrated inside my bag.

I didn't want to check it. I already knew who it was.

Still, I took out my phone.

There was a new message from the same unknown number.

I opened it.

Only one sentence appeared on the screen.

“You should stop asking about Adriana.”