I created a foundation

What is even more incredible is that.

She actually took it from the inside pocket of her school uniform.

He took out a small paperback book.

The cover is a simple and elegant light blue.

No fancy patterns.

Through the broken window panes.

That little bit of faint, cold moonlight.

Yukino turned the page of the book.

Read quietly.

Her eyelashes are very long.

In the hazy moonlight, two faint, fan-shaped shadows were cast.

His expression was focused and peaceful.

It seemed as if the world in the book was far more worthy of her attention than the crisis and terror before her.

It was as if everything around her had nothing to do with her.

Yuigahama Yui stared blankly.

Looking at the thin figure sitting alone in the middle of the classroom.

She has such a petite figure.

Even thinner than herself.

But at the moment.

That suffocating calm.

That absolute concentration that seemed to be able to isolate all darkness and fear.

But it formed an indescribable powerful aura.

A force that stabilizes people's hearts.

Hayato Hayama also stared at Yukino in a daze.

He couldn't understand.

Really incomprehensible.

In this desperate situation that can almost drive people crazy.

How could anyone be so calm and composed?

Couldn't she feel that creepy sense of oppression?

Or.

She was afraid of the unknown danger that was coming.

He was actually absolutely sure.

Yukino seemed unaware of the three complicated gazes coming from behind her.

In her world.

It seemed that all that was left was the thin book in my hand.

And the black words flowing silently on the pages.

Occasionally.

She would stretch out her long, white fingers.

Gently turn the page.

His fingertips slid across the slightly rough paper.

Makes a slight "rustling" sound.

It can be heard clearly in this silent classroom.

Yuigahama Yui stared at Yukino's profile.

The cold moonlight outlines her soft yet resolute figure.

That ultimate tranquility is like a pair of invisible hands.

Gently but firmly, he gently soothed the fear that was beating wildly in her heart.

Not disappear.

The fear remains.

Like a ferocious beast lurking in the abyss of the soul.

Covet.

But at least, for the moment, it was temporarily appeased.

No longer gnawing at her sanity so madly.

Yumiko Miura also raised her head slightly from Yuigahama's shoulder.

Her bloodshot eyes were filled with tears.

I also saw the figure bathed in the moonlight. (Wang Qian Zhao)

So quiet.

So focused.

It was as if all the noise and terror in the world had vanished.

Nothing could bother her at all.

An inexplicable emotion.

It grows with difficulty from the cracks in the heart filled with despair and fear.

Very weak.

Like a candle in the wind.

But it is real.

That's not hope.

They no longer dared to hope for such luxuries.

It's more like a...almost instinctive dependence.

Correct.

It's dependence.

It's like a drowning person in a cold and desperate torrent, grabbing at the last floating straw.

Knowing that it may be extremely fragile.

It could break at any time.

But he still used all his strength and instinctively didn't want to let go.

Yukinoshita Yukino has always seemed aloof, cold, and unapproachable.

now.

It became their only anchor.

On this isolated island completely submerged in fear and darkness.

Her petite figure.

Her incredible calmness.

It is the only light source.

weak.

But it burns stubbornly.

Resisting the endless darkness.

Yukino closed the book.

She raised her eyes.

His calm gaze fell on the tightly closed door of the classroom.

Chapter 120: The Fearful "Gourmet"! Forced Sleep and Sweet Dreams

When the last ray of sunlight outside the window was swallowed by the horizon, the whole world fell into pure darkness.

The corridor of the teaching building was silent, as if filled with invisible darkness, and every inch of air was filled with suffocating depression.

The air in the music classroom was stagnant, carrying a faint smell of rust. It was the slow fermentation of fear, solidified into a unique aroma that swirled around every corner and penetrated everyone's nostrils.

Miura Yumiko and Yuigahama Yui huddled in the corner beside the piano, their bodies pressed together, trying to draw a tiny bit of warmth from each other. Hayama Hayato stood in front of them like a stiff statue, his face as pale as a piece of rain-soaked paper.

Yukinoshita Yukino continued to sit in the solitary chair in the center of the classroom, her posture unchanged. The open paperback in her hands reflected a faint, cold luster under the thin moonlight that barely filtered in through the window.

She seemed to be reading quietly, or patiently waiting for something that was bound to come.

Time, in the utter silence, passed by minute by minute, each second feeling as long as a century.

There was no warning.

There was no sound of approaching footsteps, no subtle sound of disturbed air.

A figure appeared on the podium out of nowhere.

It was as if he had been standing there from the beginning, blending into the shadows deep in the classroom, and only decided to reveal himself at this moment.