Chapter 3
On the first floor, the girl was already dead.
Not simply dead—obliterated.
Her face had been pounded in so brutally that nothing was left but red mush and bone fragments. What had once been a person was now an unrecognizable corpse. The floor around her was soaked in blood. Some of it was still dripping down the lockers and walls, thick and slow like syrup.
The one responsible stood calmly over her body.
A man. Towering. Built like a machine forged for murder.
And over his head… a goat mask.
Large horns curled back over his head. Its blank, black eyes glared down at the corpse with no emotion. His weapon? A massive machete, glinting in the low emergency light like a hungry fang.
Simon watched from the third floor, peering down through the cracked window of a biology classroom.
He watched the Goat-masked killer as casually as one might watch ants in a glass case.
"Brute type," Simon murmured.
People on the first floor had finally seen the carnage.
Chaos erupted.
Screams filled the air again as students scrambled. Some fled in blind panic. Others crouched, shaking, trying to stay quiet. A few pressed themselves behind vending machines or ducked into classrooms, praying not to be noticed.
Simon narrowed his eyes.
"The ones running will die first," he whispered. "Panic makes noise. And noise brings death."
He shifted his gaze to the second floor.
There, people were beginning to scatter too. They hadn't seen the killer directly, but the screams from downstairs were enough to trigger their survival instincts.
Then—something moved.
Simon caught it from the corner of his eye.
A blur.
A figure darting unnaturally fast through the second floor hallway.
Wearing a mask.
But this one wasn't a goat.
It was a snake—a pale ivory mask with slitted eyes, coiled fangs, and a long painted tongue that flicked down the chin. Sleek. Sinister. Fast.
The figure raced toward a boy who was frozen near the railing, too stunned to move.
"W–wait!" the boy shouted. "Stop! I–I'm not a threat! I didn't do anyth—!"
The snake-masked killer didn't even hesitate.
He lunged—knife in hand—and jumped.
The blade plunged straight into the top of the boy's skull.
The boy's body twitched violently as blood burst like a fountain from the wound.
And then, it didn't stop.
STAB. STAB. STAB.
Again. And again.
Rapid. Mechanical. Messy.
Simon's eyes didn't blink. He just watched, head slightly tilted.
"So," he whispered. "There are two."
He paused, letting the idea settle.
But then something didn't make sense.
"The goat killed the girl on the first floor. But during that time, the snake wasn't anywhere to be seen."
He glanced back and forth. Comparing timelines. Motions. Locations.
And then, it hit him.
"No," he muttered, grinning slowly.
"There are three."
Three masks.
Three killers.
Three heads of the chimera.
The goat—the brute strength.
The snake—the speed and precision.
And finally… the lion.
Simon turned his gaze to the third floor—the very one he was on now.
"Which means," he said aloud, "I'm next."
But instead of running or panicking like everyone else, Simon remained still. Calculating. Calm.
A normal person would try to hide.
A smart person would fortify a room.
But Simon? He smiled.
He walked.
Further down the hall, he spotted someone—a girl.
She was crouched behind a row of overturned desks, breathing heavily, wide eyes darting around like a trapped animal.
Simon recognized her instantly.
Mei.
She was one of the ones from the starting zone. He remembered her scrambling up the stairs in panic, barely looking where she was going.
She turned toward him the moment she heard his steps.
"You!" she shouted, voice trembling. "Why are you just walking?!"
Simon raised a hand.
"Calm down. I'm not here to hurt you."
Mei narrowed her eyes, uncertain. "Why are you coming closer, then?! Stay back!"
Simon stopped just a few steps away, tilting his head.
"I need to ask you something important," he said.
"I don't care!" she snapped. "This isn't the time!"
Simon gave a soft chuckle.
"Oh, but it is. Because time is exactly what I need."
Mei hesitated. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but something about Simon—the way he stood there like he already knew everything—froze her in place.
He continued, voice slow and deliberate.
"You were on the first floor before you came here, right?"
She blinked. "Huh?"
"I saw you. You ran from the lobby up here."
"…Yeah. So what?"
"What time was it when you left?"
"What kind of question—!?"
"Just answer."
She gritted her teeth. "I don't know, like… 7:29 or something?"
Simon smiled.
"Perfect," he said softly. "Then that means…"
He stepped aside.
"…you have about one minute left to live."
Mei's expression twisted.
"What?!"
"Think, Mei. The chimera has three heads. Goat. Snake. Lion."
Her face paled.
Simon pointed upward, behind her.
"You saw the goat kill someone downstairs. You saw the snake on the second floor. Which means..."
Shwing.
A flash of silver.
A blade—long, curved, like a ceremonial sword—plunged through her back, piercing through her chest.
Her mouth opened to scream.
But no sound came.
Only blood.
Behind her stood the third killer.
Towering. Composed.
Wearing a lion mask, its golden mane sculpted in a regal curl around the head, a blank expression painted over its sharp features. Its weapon was long and ceremonial, like a sword fit for an executioner.
Simon stepped back slightly as Mei collapsed to her knees, then toppled over, blood pooling beneath her twitching fingers.
He didn't even flinch.
He just tilted his head again, staring at the lion mask.
"And so… the final head appears."
He gave a soft, amused sigh.
"It's going to be a long night."
The lion killer stood motionless for a moment, then slowly turned its head toward Simon.
But Simon didn't run.
Why should he?
If the killers followed a pattern… if they eliminated one target at a time, and destroyed the face entirely—then as long as he stayed calm, observed, and didn't interfere…
He would be safe.
At least, for now.
As the lion began to raise his blade again, preparing to mutilate Mei's head, Simon took a slow step back.
Then another.
Then another.
And calmly walked away—never taking his eyes off the killer.
Squish. Squish.
The sword came down.
Blood spattered across the walls.
Simon didn't even blink.
"What a beautiful design," he thought.
Three killers.
Three masks.
One objective.
Three nights of carnage.
And he was going to enjoy every second of it.