Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 66: Joining Watchroom

Nolan sat silently, eyes locked on the glowing screen before him.

The room around him, once full of shouting and chaos, now felt far away.

His posture relaxed, arms folded loosely over his chest. Not because what he watched was calming—but because it felt familiar.

He wasn’t terrified. Not anymore. He’d already seen it before.

A fuzzy memory bubbled up—his old neighbor’s cramped living room, the air thick with the smell of fried rice and laundry soap.

He remembered watching the very same movie on their dusty, flickering DVD player, the screen scratched and skipping every now and then.

Back home, his family didn’t have one. They had a battered TV with an antenna that barely worked, but no DVD player.

So Nolan used to sneak over to the neighbor’s house on weekends, pretending to borrow sugar or leftover rice, just to get a seat on their torn couch and press play on something like this.

He remembered how scared he’d been. How real the movie felt. How he couldn’t sleep properly for days.

And now... he was here.

Not on Earth. Not in that cramped house. But in this strange new fantasy world, watching that same fear flicker across the screen, feeling the quiet sting of nostalgia as the simulated horror played out in high resolution.

It was the same, yet so different.

Like a dream, near him, but can’t reach to grab a hold of it.

And for a fleeting moment, he forgot about the students that were boiling over the fact that they couldn’t pass through the game, the fourth floor, the floor of bloater.

Meanwhile, inside Room 33, the emotional temperature hard boiled past simmering and heating up in electricity and was now a full-on steam smokey explosion.

"This is actually unfair! Very unfair!" Ruvin snapped, slamming his hand against the side of his desk.

"Damn right it is!" Erik shouted. "We’ve been stuck on the fourth floor for how long now? Thirty minutes?!"

"I don’t get it!" Selin yelled, throwing her arms in the air. "It’s ONE creature! A single, fat, ugly, slow thing! But it won’t die! I’ve used ALL my energy and my stabbing? I tab it everywhere. I did Everything!"

"It’s like it’s made of iron tumors or something," Calien muttered, hunched over, sweat dotting his brow. "I hit it with an axe. An axe, you hear me? At least twenty times! But none of them could penetrate it!"

Ruvin’s voice rose again. "And it just keeps coming! It doesn’t even flinch! What kind of game is this?!"

"I’ve circled the entire floor trying to find a weak spot!" Erik added. "I even tried to blow up the gas pipe—nothing!"

"Why does a game even make something like this?" Selin shouted. "It’s not a challenge—it’s a punishment!"

"I tried molotovs!" Calien wailed. "FIRE! And all it did was sizzle."

They groaned and yelled, their voices a chaotic medley of frustration, disbelief, and manic laughter that always bordered on desperation.

Screens flickered as their avatars stumbled away from the bloated abomination once more, scrambling to survive.

But then, slowly, one by one, their focus shifted. Selin was the first to notice.

"Wait... is teach Nolan even listening to us?"

The others paused, glancing over toward their instructor’s desk.

Nolan wasn’t shouting. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t scolding them.

He was watching something.

"What the hell?" Erik said, squinting. "What’s that on his screen? He is so busy watching it..."

Then—ping—a soft notification sound blinked on each of their own system screens. freeweɓnovel.cøm

Would you like to enter Professor Nolan’s Watchroom?

There was a brief silence.

Ruvin blinked. "What does that mean?"

"Maybe like... a private viewing room? I dunno, I’m also confused?" Selin said slowly.

"Why does it feel like something is coming?" Calien muttered.

"I say we crash it and let’s see what teacher Nolan is busy off at this moment," Erik grinned.

They all looked at each other, shrugged, and without hesitation—

Clicked YES.

Inside the Watchroom, Nolan’s world remained untouched. He leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp, chin resting on his knuckles.

On-screen, the man—soaked and trembling—carefully tiptoed around a pile of broken glass and splintered furniture. He needed clothes. He couldn’t stay naked forever, no matter how few people were left to judge.

But every drawer, every closet door creaked like a dying cat. Every rustle of fabric felt like a scream.

If he made a single wrong sound, he was done.

The infected were close. Too close.

He finally found an abandoned bedroom. Dust layered the floor. He tiptoed in, the only sound his shallow breathing. There, on the bed—jeans and a hoodie. Clothes, mercifully dry.

He pulled them on, one foot at a time, careful not to trip over himself.

Then—

"Is he... watching a horror movie?" Selin’s voice whispered from the back.

Nolan didn’t react.

"What’s this?" Ruvin muttered.

The students had materialized behind their teacher, seated on their own digital seats in the Watchroom, their heads tilting as they stared at the screen.

They watched the man creep toward the living room, knife clenched in a shaking hand.

Then—from the side of the screen, an infected lunged, and the man barely dodged.

"Gah!" Selin yelped. "Where the hell did that thing come from?!"

The man grappled, his knife flailing, finally plunging into the infected’s neck.

Over and over.

Blood sprayed. The infected collapsed.

And then—stillness.

The man heaved, panicked, hands trembling, blood staining his hoodie.

"I thought it could only be killed without a pathogen knife," Erik whispered. "That was just a kitchen knife."

"Maybe he hit a vital spot?" Calien suggested. "Or... the movie has different rules?"

"Who is this guy?" Ruvin muttered.

But the movie moved on.

The man stumbled into the street, dodging infected as he sprinted. His breaths were ragged, heart pounding. He found a building—a pharmacy.

He tried the door. Locked.

"C’mon, c’mon—!" he hissed.

He slammed into the door with his shoulder.

WHAM.

It didn’t budge.

Another slam.

WHAM!

Glass rattled.

Then—groaning. From around the corner.

A group of infected had spotted him.

Eyes dead. Jaws slack. They began to run.

"Shit!" Selin gasped. "They’re coming—!"

"He’s not gonna make it—" Calien started.

"GO! KICK IT HARDER!" Erik shouted.

"PUSH!" Ruvin screamed.

The infected were so close—their hands reached for his back—

Then—the door gave way.

The man stumbled inside, slamming the door behind him, panting, nearly crying.

"YES!" the students shouted.

"He made it!"

Nolan, without thinking, shouted too. "Haha—finally! Nice one!"

He pumped a fist, eyes still locked on the screen.

Then blinked.

Wait.

He turned.

Four heads.

Four stunned students sat behind him, mouths agape, eyes wide, mirroring his own.

He stared at them.

They stared back.

"...How long have you been here?" he asked slowly.

"...A while," Selin answered.

"...This is better than your classes," Ruvin muttered.

"...You’re not even mad?" Calien asked.

"...Are we just watching now?" Erik shrugged.

Nolan blinked again.

Then shrugged.

"I guess so."

On-screen, the man searched the pharmacy shelves in desperation. He found a bottle of calming pills, popped two into his mouth, swallowed dry.

The world slowed.

His hands stopped trembling.

Finally, finally—peace.

He sank onto the floor between two counters and exhaled.

Then—a voice called out from behind a shelf:

"Hey... who are you?"

Cut to black.