Ren looked at the mirror. He looked like hell.
Dark circles under his eyes. Hair that refused to lie flat. A hoodie that smelled faintly of cinnabar and old smoke.
But the most annoying part wasn't the exhaustion. It was the Red Text burning in the center of his vision, like a dead pixel on a computer screen that he couldn't swipe away.
[ TIME UNTIL PURGE: 64 HOURS, 12 MINUTES. ]
"Stop blinking," Ren told his reflection. "It makes you look guilty."
He splashed cold water on his face. The water felt thick, like oil. He ignored it.
Downstairs, Grandma was waiting. She didn't offer him breakfast. She handed him a thermos that smelled like wet dirt.
"Graveyard soil and ginger," she said, her face grim. "Drink it. It masks your living scent."
Ren looked at the muddy liquid. His Shaman instincts scoffed. Graveyard soil? That's peasant magic. I should just cast the 'Veil of Nine Clouds.'
He tried to summon the energy. He reached for his Spirit Core.
Sputter.
Nothing happened. His core was dry. He was a Ferrari with an empty gas tank. He knew the advanced spells, but he didn't have the fuel to cast them.
Ren gritted his teeth. Without Mana, he was just a mortal with a history book in his head. He needed Grandma's low-budget hedge magic.
"Thanks," he muttered, taking the thermos. "I guess beggars can't be choosers."
He chugged it. It tasted like mud and spicy regret.
"Go," she commanded. "And remember: You are boring. You are invisible. You are nobody."
"I am nobody," Ren repeated.
He walked out the door.
The city was waking up. To a normal human, it was a cloudy Tuesday morning. To Ren, whose "Spirit Sight" was stuck in the ON position, it was a circus of horrors.
[ PASSIVE SKILL: SPIRIT SIGHT (TIER 0) ]
The mailbox wasn't just a mailbox. A small, gremlin-like creature was chewing on the letters inside, spitting out paper pulp. [ ENTITY: MINOR IMP (TRASH) ]
Ren walked past a jogging couple. The woman was fine. The man had a grey, translucent woman clinging to his back, her arms wrapped around his throat, whispering into his ear. [ ENTITY: CLINGY EX-GIRLFRIEND (CLASS: SPECTER) ]
Ren rolled his eyes. Have some dignity, he thought, adjusting his backpack. In my day, ghosts haunted entire provinces. Now they just ruin cardio?
He reached the subway station. This was the gauntlet.
He swiped his card. BEEP.
As he descended into the underground, the air pressure dropped. The smell hit him—rust, ozone, and unwashed bodies.
The train arrived. Ren squeezed into a crowded car.
He grabbed a handrail. Immediately, he felt a cold, slimy hand touch his own.
Ren looked down.
Sitting in the priority seat was a man in a business suit. Except his head was detached, resting in his lap like a bowling ball. The head was looking at a smartphone.
The body's hand was blindly groping the pole Ren was holding.
[ ENTITY: THE OVERWORKED SALARYMAN (CLASS: ECHO) ] [ THREAT: ZERO ]
The head looked up from the phone. "Is this the Express to Downtown?" the head asked.
Ren froze.
"Do not engage," he told himself. You are camouflage.
"I think so," Ren mumbled, looking away.
"Thanks," the head sighed. "I'm going to be late. My boss kills me."
"He already did," Ren muttered under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Ren moved to the other end of the car. The Warlord inside him was screaming. This is chaos! Where are the Spirit Magistrates? Why are the dead riding public transit? The Underworld's bureaucracy has gone to the dogs.
The train screeched to a halt at Northwood Station.
Ren shoved his way out, eager for fresh air. But as he climbed the stairs to the street, the System chimed a warning.
DING.
[ LOCATION DISCOVERED: NORTHWOOD HIGH ] [ SPIRITUAL DENSITY: ABNORMALLY HIGH ]
Ren stopped at the crosswalk. He looked at his high school.
Most kids saw a red brick building. Ren saw a fortress of gloom.
A thick, purple miasma was leaking out of the gymnasium vents. The gargoyles on the roof weren't stone—they were actual gargoyles, picking their teeth with pigeon bones.
And at the front gate, the "School Security Guard" was asleep in his booth. Standing directly behind him was a ten-foot-tall shadow with too many arms, petting the guard's bald head.
"Great," Ren whispered. "My school is a feeding ground."
He adjusted his backpack straps.
"Ren!"
A voice called out from behind him. Smooth. Lazy. Amused.
Ren stiffened. He knew that voice.
He turned around.
Leaning against a lamppost, looking like he had just rolled out of bed, was Jian.
Jian was wearing the school uniform, but he made it look like pajamas. His tie was undone. He was holding a Nintendo Switch in one hand and a pork bun in the other.
Jian was Ren's best friend because he was the only person who slept more than Ren did.
"You look like a zombie," Jian said, taking a bite of the bun. "Rough night?"
Ren forced a smile. "Something like that. Studying."
Jian didn't smile back. He stopped chewing.
He walked up to Ren. He didn't look at Ren's face. He looked around Ren. Inspecting the air.
Sniff.
Jian frowned.
"You smell like dirt," Jian said flatly. "And cinnabar."
Ren's heart skipped a beat. The tea didn't work?
"Grandma's medicine," Ren lied. "For... allergies."
Jian stared at him. His eyes were dark, almost black. For a second, the lazy, gamer-kid vibe vanished. His gaze felt heavy. Calculated. Like he was weighing Ren's soul on a scale.
Then, Jian shrugged. The darkness vanished.
"Weird medicine," Jian mumbled, turning back to his Switch. "Come on. If we're late, Henderson gives us detention. And his classroom smells like old cheese."
Jian walked through the gates, right past the ten-foot shadow monster. The monster hissed at Jian, raising a claw.
Jian didn't even look up from his game. He just lazily flicked his finger in the monster's direction.
Snap.
The monster recoiled as if it had been whipped, whimpering and shrinking back into the shadows.
Ren watched, stunned.
Jian didn't even notice. Or he pretended not to.
"You coming?" Jian called back.
Ren stared at his best friend's back. The System text flickered violently over Jian's head.
[ ENTITY DETECTED: HUMAN (?) ] [ AFFILIATION: NETHERWORLD BUREAUCRACY (INTERN) ] [ THREAT LEVEL: DO NOT PROVOKE ]
Ren swallowed hard.
His best friend wasn't just a gamer. He was on the payroll.
"Yeah," Ren called out, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm coming."