"Remember," Major Coleman said. "Not one word."

Major Coleman was taking extra precaution but honestly, I think this is a bit of an overkill. We were all dressed in matching uniforms from my school. Even driving here on our school's minibus, just to make it more believable. It's a sixteen seater so we have room for the two soldiers Major Coleman brought along. (He really didn't explain why. Must be standard procedure.) They were supposed to be our teachers supervising us on our field trip so they were in casual clothing. The influences that Major Coleman must have, to be able to provide all these on such short notice.

The museum Major Coleman mentioned was not far from our hotel so we made a quick visit. Our class actually had our field trip here last month but I don't remember anything that might help us. Then again, a month ago, I wasn't really paying attention.

We were in line for the reception inside the lobby of what seemed like the living room of a modest house. The queue was long. Apparently, two other schools are actually having their field trip today. The entrance was free but we have to write down our name, occupation and current address before we can enter.

I brought Cana's pen knife with me, securing it in my pants pocket. I know it's useless against the Shade, but somehow, having it with me makes me feel a bit better. Good thing this place didn't have metal detectors. The guard who inspected it just warned me not to write on the exhibits, obviously not aware that my black, metal pen has a hidden knife inside it.

There was a huge statue of the Shade made from black stone standing in the center. Of course, all the old features. No red eyes. No gaping jaw. Especially no legs and arms that can transform.

"They might need a new statue of the Shade," Darius said.

"Shhh," Scarlet warned. "Not so loud."

Under the statue, a tour guide was giving a tour to a group of Koreans about the history of the museum. We were given the same tour last time I was here. At the time, even though I really wasn't taking this whole Shade-killing seriously, the history was really interesting as it explains the house-like entrance so I guess that's why the story sticks. It goes like this:

The museum was the home of the boy, Francis Martinez, which is why the museum resembles a two-story residential house. He died forty years ago. His parents, devastated by the loss of their only son, turned his room into a shrine of sorts. All of his pictures, newspaper clippings, articles downloaded from the internet, and their own theories of the Shade when the phenomenon was still fresh can still be seen inside the galleries.

First, it was just neighbors and friends who know about it. But the word spread and soon the place became another place for hungry journalists to prey upon. But thanks to the publicity, it attracted the attention of other parents and relatives of haunteds who've lost their lives. These people became frequent visitors. Soon, an official support group had been set up for families who suffered through the same loss.

It became a tradition to bring the picture of their lost, loved ones over during the meetings. Some brought their own sketches of the Shade. I always thought it was weird why this place didn't have a single photo or video recording of the Shade but now I understand because of Shade Rule 5, The Shade doesn't bear any reflection on the mirror or its image captured by any devices. A father wrote his own book about his research on the shadow monster and donated it to the place. The shrine grew more and more as the contributions poured in. Soon, the house became the place to go to for first-hand knowledge about the Shade.

Eventually, they got so many visitors and even tourists that they could no longer accommodate all at once. They decided to turn the old house into a proper museum. They started a crowdfunding campaign through social media. It was a huge success. The campaign went viral, both domestically and internationally. They were making good money from anonymous donors all over the world. Renovations after renovations, the house grew more rooms and equipped with the latest facilities one might see inside a museum. And then the government stepped in.

"And the rest was, well, history," The tour guide concluded. After hearing that the second time, I'm still not sure if the tour guide intentionally made that bad pun. If she did, then why isn't she fired?

"Hey, man," Leo called, handing me the pen. I signed in. While the others were still in line, I entered the gallery, along with the steady stream of guests and students.

There were already a lot of people inside. I took a quick look around, trying to see if anyone is giving us funny looks but it seems like the disguise works because not one person even spare us a glance. The room was cold from the square air conditioners installed on the ceiling. The marble walls were white and bare. I saw only one exhibit. In the center of the room was a huge, standalone wall that almost takes up the entire room. Mounted on the wall was a painting of the same size.

Tourists were flocking in front, blocking my view so I stepped a bit closer towards the painting. Right next to Indigo and Cana.

They were both fixated at the thing, scanning every inch of the painting, absorbing every hue, every stroke on the canvas with the same intensity a dog would give to a half-eaten hamburger.

The painting depicted the Shade, the old Shade, of course, just a black shadow, a silhouette of a man hovering in the middle of the room, in the middle of sleeping children. It looks like it was set in a room inside an orphanage, with the kids sleeping in separate identical beds wearing identical white pajamas. I say sleeping but their eyes were wide opened.

At the far end of the room was an open door. Under the doorway was the nanny, slumped to the ground, her head leaning at the door frame. She was staring, just staring with a blank expression tinged with a faint smile. A smile of absolute surrender in a hopeless situation.

"It's hauntingly beautiful..." Cana said, suppressing a smile.

Indigo stared at her as if she's speaking in a foreign language. "Why are you smirking?"

"You know...because it's the Shade. And the Shade haunts us..."

Her mouth gaped when she gets it. "Oh!" She was laughing as if Cana just told her the first joke in the world. Then I remembered that she's homeschooled so maybe terrible puns are not part of her upbringing.

She stopped, catching her breath. "Thank you, by the way."

"You know, you don't have to thank someone for their corny jokes." I told Indigo. I immediately felt Cana's elbow dug into my ribs.

"I know that!" Indigo said, irritated by my treating her like an idiot. "I meant for the compliment."

She turned to Cana. "You really think it's beautiful?"

"I do...but," Cana said, looking as confused as I was. I look at the portrait of the Shade again. It is beautiful but why would she thank Cana? Even she doesn't get it. Then, my eyes drifted to the bottom right of the painting, at the feet of the bed of a curly redheaded boy, the name INDIGO was written in blue paint.

I turned to Indigo. Now it's my jaw's turn to drop. "No way."

She just smiled.

"So when you said you paint, you meant"-I pointed at the painting.

"Mm-hmm."

"Oh!" Cana exclaimed, taking Indigo's hands in hers. "That's incredible!"

"Wow..." I said. "So, you're a genius, uhh, a gifted, like uhm, a prodigy?"

Indigo blushed. "Aww, thank you."

We heard Major Coleman called over for us. We head back to the group. Major Coleman led us towards the back of the painting. The backside of the wall was actually a huge, commemorative plaque. Names of previous haunteds who died were etched in gold. They were arranged in columns based on the year of their deaths. We didn't stop to appreciate the plaque more and head straight for the exit.

I walked next to Cana. "I didn't know you two were close."

"Oh," Cana said. "Actually, that was the first time we've talked."

"But-weren't you-"I said. Then I leaned over and whispered. "Stranger-avoidant."

Her lips curled up to a faint smile. "Yeah, well," she said. "With all that had happened...it just seemed silly now, don't you think?"

I get what she was saying. I really do. It's like things that were once such a big deal doesn't really matter anymore. I mean, I brought a deadly weapon with me to the museum and didn't even think twice about it. Old me would have been scared of being caught, of getting in trouble. Funny how a couple of near-death experiences can change a person overnight. "I guess so..."

We came out of the gallery and into another hallway. The walls were painted pink. Busts of the Shade on top of marble pedestals spanned across the length of the area. I took a closer look. It was made with a metallic material, lustrous and of dark color, probably for accuracy of the real one. I lingered for a bit, looking to the left side of the hallway, to Mrs. Roth's gallery, the reason we are still alive today.

I looked back to the group and saw them already walking towards the opposite direction, leaving me behind, so I jogged for a bit and slowed down to a walk when I caught up to Indigo.

My mind went back to that huge, jumbotron-sized painting of hers. I've never really talk to her so I really don't know her. Then I remembered about our first night in the dorm, about how I basically slapped her hand away for trying to help me clean up.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

She looked at me. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. "About what?"

"The night Mr. Donovan..." I paused. I couldn't bring myself to finish that sentence. "I was covered in blood...and you were only trying to help-"

"It didn't bother me." She said. She looked down. "That night...I didn't stay. I ran back inside as soon as I saw the Shade grew eyes. I knew something wasn't right."

"And you did the right thing." I said.

She nodded. "My point is, what you guys went through that night...I would never understand." She raised her head and looked at me. "I was never mad at you."

My shoulders felt lighter. A smile appeared on my face. "Thanks." I said.

"Mm-hmm."

We turned a corner and climbed up a set of stairs. This is the first time I've gone up to the second floor. We came upon a set of doors. Major Coleman turned the knob and pushed the door open, ushering us inside.

Rows of shelves filled with different kinds of books dominated the room. Hardbound, softbound, folders of transparent plastic and brown envelopes. On one side there were several computers lining the wall. Long tables and chairs with cushion seats occupied the center.

There was quite a number of visitors here, too. A group of kids who seemed like our age was busying themselves over papers with pencil sketches. When I took a closer look, it was all drawings of the Shade, done in different styles. There was one which, at first glance, you'd think it was a high definition picture of the Shade downloaded from the internet. Another was just random shapes of triangles, circles, squares thrown together to form the image of the Shade. And then there's this dude who drew the Shade in anime style, with big eyes and all. But the eye color was blue, different from what we've seen so I assumed that this was just his style and hopefully not influenced by the real one.

Despite the number of people here, there was a calming silence to the place. Dragging chairs and the occasional murmurs made up most of the noise.

On another table, there were a boy and a girl, both were just reading. I get that it's a library and what else can you do in one but they are completely ignoring each other. But I got to admit, losing yourself into a book that everything else seemed to disappear from existence is kind of cool, I guess.

"Why would you bring your date to a library?" Leo said.

"And why this specific one?" I added.

"How do you even know they're a couple?" Cana asked. "They could be siblings."

Darius and Scarlet look at each other. "Even stranger," They both said in unison.

We had to control ourselves from laughing out loud so we don't bother others, resulting in a group of teenagers snorting and faking a coughing fit, which, in itself, must have been more distracting. It was probably mean making fun of others, especially if they don't even know about it. But that's what makes it funnier. And after last night, I really couldn't care less. We needed something like this if we want to keep our sanity intact.

Catching my breath, I saw Major Coleman walked over the counter with an old lady with glasses sitting behind it, who I'm guessing is the librarian. The librarian seemed to recognize Major Coleman. They talked for a bit. The librarian took a glance at us and leaned closer to Major Coleman, whispering something. I don't know what Major Coleman said but the librarian disappeared to the door behind her. The door on the left of the counter with a For Personnel Use Only sign opened, the librarian peeking out of the doorway. Major Coleman called our attention and gestured for us to enter.