1982. HDB Block 43 in Bukit Merah still smells
of damp concrete and curry leaves. Tan Jia Wei,
16, fails his midyear maths paper for the third
time. His mother sells kueh lapis at the Pasar
Minggu stall, her fingers cracked from steam. He
knows: no university, no NS deferment, no escape
from the factory floor.
The OLevel papers are locked in sealed vaults
under the old Raffles Institution building — now
a Ministry of Education storage unit. But Jia
Wei heard the kampong elders whisper: during the
Occupation, a Chinese scribe hanged himself
after copying answers for 37 boys. His ghost
still walks the corridors, inkstained, clutching
a slate that answers any question if you feed it
your sweat.
Jia Wei steals his uncle’s NS uniform, slips
past the night guard who naps with a bottle of
Tiger Beer, and sneaks into the basement. He
peels off his shirt, presses his bare back
against the cold slate wall. The air turns sour
like rotting bak kut teh. A voiceless breath
curls around his neck. The slate glows. He
writes: “Question 3b — prove Pythagoras.” Ink
bleeds from the wall. The answer appears.
Next day, he scores 97%. His name flashes on the
school noticeboard. Teachers stare. The
Principal calls him in. “How?” Jia Wei says
nothing.
Then the Ministry rolls out Rule 17B: any
student scoring above 90% without prior academic
record must submit a blood sample for
“psychometric integrity verification.” No
exceptions.
He bleeds into the vial.
That night, the slate cracks. The ghost doesn’t
just answer anymore — it takes. Jia Wei wakes
with ink crawling up his arms, words forming
under his skin: “You stole my shame. Now I steal
your name.”
His OLevel results are voided. His name scrubbed
from all rolls. He is reclassified: “Candidate
Disqualified — Unnatural Performance.” No appeal.
No resit.
They find him two weeks later, squatting in the
void space between HDB blocks 43 and 44,
whispering quadratic equations to the rats. His
fingers are black with ink. His eyes, empty.
The Ministry posts a notice: “Academic integrity
upheld.”
No one mentions the ghost.
But every year, when OLevel papers are printed,
the printer jams — and a single sheet always
comes out covered in oldfashioned cursive,
solving problems no one has taught.
The kiasu kids know: don’t cheat. The dead are
still grading.


