Chapter Twelve: The Scarlet Fountain

Rain.
A torrential downpour.
Each raindrop was as large as a soybean, falling fiercely from the sky. Looking toward Liu Mengchao’s direction, it seemed as if a vast curtain had been drawn down from the heavens.
A curtain woven entirely from droplets of rain.

The sound of the rain was deafening. As it struck the ground, it resembled a rapid drumbeat—growing faster and louder, eagerly invading every ear, compelling everyone to listen to its relentless rhythm.

Sansen Renko was embarrassed and at a loss for words.
Just moments ago, she had wanted to say that the weather was fine today, but before she could react, the heavens had already opened up, as if mocking her.

“Pat! Pat!”

More and more raindrops, driven by the wind, blew through the window and into the classroom.

“All right, all right. Though it’s raining, let’s not let our spirits waver!” Sansen Renko said with a smile. Sitting in the back row, Liu Mengchao looked at her smile and had to admit—she truly was a beautiful woman.

“This is my second year as the homeroom teacher for the third grade. I hope all of you can smoothly…” Sansen Renko took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“Graduate from school.”

Liu Mengchao smiled softly and lowered his head to look at the floor. The classroom floor was tiled, and the rainwater had already seeped in, leaving the ground slightly damp.

A pair of red high heels casually caught Liu Mengchao’s eye.
They belonged to Sansen Renko.

Sansen Renko stood in the first row of the third group, choosing not to stand at the center like other teachers, believing this made her seem more approachable.

On the first day of the new semester, despite the rain outside, Sansen Renko was in good spirits.

But suddenly, Liu Mengchao’s brow furrowed. From his perspective, Sansen Renko’s red heel accidentally stepped into a puddle of water.

Crack!

The heel broke.

Shock flashed across Sansen Renko’s face as she twisted her ankle.

“The teacher is fine…”

Sansen Renko likely wanted to say this, but the words never came out. The heel of her left shoe snapped completely as she twisted her ankle.

“Ah!”

A sharp cry broke the silence.

Wincing in pain, Sansen Renko began to fall toward the window. Her left heel was broken, and her right foot, which had been supporting her, slipped into a thin, almost invisible film of pooled water.

Screech!

The sole scraped against the tiled floor, producing a grating sound along with Sansen Renko’s incredulous shout.

“Help!”

She seemed to realize what was happening.

The window was just beside her, thankfully only slightly ajar; otherwise, she might have fallen out.

Bang!

A gust of wind suddenly blew through the corridor, violently flinging open the window beside her. The thunderous noise instantly overwhelmed the raging storm outside.

Sansen Renko’s eyes filled with disbelief.

Could it be that she… was going to die?

Her red high heel slipped helplessly from her foot like a streak of crimson light flashing before everyone’s eyes.

“Teacher!”

Shishi Kawahara, standing near Liu Mengchao, shouted in disbelief.

Sansen Renko had fallen from the upper floor!

* * *

Clatter!

The high heel hit the ground, striking the damp floor with a crisp sound—like a knock on a door, the door of death itself.

“Aunt Renko!”

Sakakibara Koichi snapped back to reality, pushing open the window to look outside.

The rain continued to pour relentlessly.

“Aunt Renko!” Sakakibara Koichi shouted loudly, leaning out the window to observe the scene on the playground.

Sansen Renko.

In the rain, the downpour fell like a cloth, slowly covering her forehead, her neatly tailored skirt, and the white blouse she wore.

She lay on her back, facing the sky.

No blood!

Sakakibara Koichi exhaled with relief.

On the ground, Sansen Renko struggled, twisting her body and extending her arm. Her jade-like skin was exposed to the elements, battered by the rain, her movements weak but determined.

“My leg seems broken,” Sansen Renko forced a smile despite the pain and fear. Her students were still upstairs; now was not the time to show weakness. “Hurry back to class…”

Not only Sakakibara Koichi was peering out the window—Liu Mengchao was as well.

The figure of Sansen Renko in the rain was gradually blurring, her features fading. Liu Mengchao closed his eyes, recalling the female teacher he had just met.

She wore a black pant suit paired with a beige blouse. Her figure was slender, and her delicate features framed a fair and youthful face. Her long, straight black hair fell over her chest.

She was a very charming teacher.

And also…

Liu Mengchao suddenly opened his eyes, looking at the Reincarnators leaning out the window.

She was also the deceased in their minds.

Someone who should have died long ago.

Despite the pouring rain, Liu Mengchao could still hear the trembling voices of those nearby.

“The teacher is fine… Everyone, please return to your seats,” Izumi Akazawa, with her twin tails, stood up and spoke to the students by the window, “The new Mr. Zhang has gone downstairs. He’ll take care of getting Ms. Sansen to the hospital. For now, close the windows—the rain’s still coming down.”

Yes, it was still raining.

Liu Mengchao lazily walked back to his seat, just like the other students. Except everyone else was pretending.

Pretending it was just an accident. Secrets were like this: everyone knew, but as long as no one broke the silence, it would continue to fester.

“Ms. Sansen is okay, right? Thank goodness the teachers’ offices are only on the second floor,” Shishi Kawahara chuckled nervously to Liu Mengchao. “If we were on the fourth floor, it would’ve been much worse.”

Liu Mengchao silently nodded.

It was only a false alarm.

Everyone except the two class monitors by the window had returned to their seats. The deathly silence that had settled since the incident had not yet lasted a full minute.

“I say…”

Izumi Akazawa, shaken, turned around, only to hear a sudden noise behind her.

Bang!

A sound!

The window slammed shut from the wind’s force.

Everyone looked toward the noise, faces filled with indescribable fear.

“What’s happening…”

Izumi Akazawa was about to speak but noticed no one was paying attention to her. Their vacant eyes stared behind her.

An ominous premonition crawled over Izumi Akazawa’s body like a venomous snake, gently yet insistently coaxing her to slowly turn her head around.

Have you ever seen a fountain?

A red fountain.

Have you ever seen a fountain of blood shooting upward against a stormy sky?

Drop after drop of crimson water surged upward, colliding with the torrential rain, turning the surrounding downpour the same vivid red.

This crimson fountain splattered in the air, refusing to be diverted by the falling rain, landing instead on Izumi Akazawa’s nose.

She hardly dared believe it and carefully touched her nose with her index finger.

The raindrops were red—and mixed with tiny shards of glass.

Bang… bang… bang…

The window, shaken by the wind, struck the eaves repeatedly. Yet the glass was gone, leaving only the frame, swaying like a white flag calling spirits in front of Izumi Akazawa’s eyes.

At that moment, Izumi Akazawa felt as if her soul had left her body. Like the students behind her, she gathered again by the window, dazed, staring blankly at the ground.

Her head tilted back.

Her long, straight hair spread across the floor.

Her mouth slightly open, as if in shock.

Nothing else was visible. No one could discern what her eyes ultimately reflected—the rain was too heavy.

Only the red fountain could be seen, slowly, relentlessly, spurting upward, defying the storm, rising and falling.

From the source to the sky and back down.

Her throat was the source, empty above. No necklace adorned it, no collar buttoned up—only a shard of glass, cold and stubbornly embedded there.

At last, the fountain lost its strength, rose once more to the sky, and fell, mingling with the rain it had stained red.

Her beige blouse was now crimson.

Her black trousers were crimson.

Her exposed arms, like white jade, were crimson.

Her fair face was stained crimson.

Crimson, crimson, everything was crimson. The red rain spread drop by drop around her like ripples on a lake stirred by the breeze.

Crimson ripples.

“This is…” Izumi Akazawa trembled, her eyes vacant.

“It’s blood, not rain.”

Liu Mengchao stood by the window, gazing at the scene outside.

The blood on the ground still flowed, mingling with the rain to blur a wide patch of earth.

Not far away, Liu Mengchao caught a faint silhouette.

Short in stature, face indistinct.

“That must be the Grim Reaper,” Liu Mengchao whispered softly, with no answer from those around him.

A deathly silence accompanied the rain’s sound. It all felt like a funeral—people dressed in black suits standing by a gravestone, offering their last mournful thoughts.

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Last night, I dreamed of an old man named Urobuchi Gen… I heartily mocked him (ˉ﹃ˉ) drool

Thanks to BXeroXB, for the generous tips from Loli, Xuanyuan the Murderous, 20300, and Kiririn☆.

C

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