I studied in one of the oldest universities in Cebu, the one near the capitol, famous for its cream-colored buildings and strict uniforms. Everyone knew it had history, but no one talked about how old the land really was.
When I was in my second year, our class was assigned to a “temporary” room while renovations were going on upstairs. The new classroom was located underground, down a narrow flight of stairs that smelled like wet cement and metal. The air was so heavy it made you feel like you were trespassing.
We called it the dungeon.
On our first week there, we noticed weird things. Footsteps that echoed even after everyone had stopped walking. Chains clinking against the floor when no one was moving. The janitor joked that the room used to be part of a war tunnel, that prisoners were once kept there when the area was a military camp. We laughed, but deep down, none of us really believed it was a joke.
One afternoon, our professor was writing on the board when the lights flickered. A faint dragging sound came from the back of the room, like metal scraping against stone. Everyone turned around. There was nothing there. When the lights steadied, one of my classmates, Carla, had gone pale.
“There was someone sitting behind me,” she whispered.
We tried to calm her down, saying she must’ve imagined it. But after that, she refused to attend classes in that room.
Weeks later, during our finals, I felt someone brush past me. I thought it was my seatmate until I realized he wasn’t there that day. Then I heard it, heavy boots, marching slowly behind us. Our professor froze mid-sentence. She looked toward the door, eyes wide, and said quietly, “Everyone, pack your things. We’re moving the class upstairs.”
She never used that room again.
Before graduation, one of the maintenance workers told me that during the war, the tunnel beneath our campus was a prison. They found rusted shackles embedded in the walls when they first converted it.
Every now and then, people still claim to hear soldiers marching in the hallways at night, boots hitting the ground in perfect rhythm. Some even say that if you listen closely near the stairwell, you can hear someone whispering your name from the dark below.
The tunnel has been sealed for years now. But sometimes, when I walk past that part of the campus… I still hear the chains.
If this is referring to CNU, then yes it actually had an involvement in the war! It was used as a kempeitai base during the war :)