The classroom smelled like stale body spray, sweat, and cheap eraser rubber.
Ren sat in the back row, staring at the whiteboard.
Mr. Henderson was droning on about the Qin Dynasty.
"Emperor Qin sought immortality," Henderson said, drawing a crooked timeline. "He was paranoid. He saw enemies in every shadow."
Ren stared at the board. Paranoid? The thought bubbled up from the ancient part of his brain—the Shaman's memory. He wasn't paranoid. He was surrounded by idiots. And he still owes me three months of back pay for the Terracotta project.
Ren rubbed his temples. This was his new reality. He was an eighteen-year-old boy, but his standards were two thousand years old.
[ TIME UNTIL PURGE: 63 HOURS, 45 MINUTES. ]
Next to him, Jian was playing Zelda with the sound off.
"Stop vibrating," Jian whispered, not looking up from his screen.
"I'm not vibrating," Ren whispered back.
"You are. You're shaking the desk. You're messing up my aim."
Jian paused the game. He turned his head slowly.
"Ren."
"What?"
"Why is there a black handprint on your neck?"
Ren instinctively covered his throat. The bruise from where the Shadow Guardian had grabbed him—or maybe the coffin lid—was still throbbing.
"Hickey," Ren lied, his voice tight.
Jian raised an eyebrow. He looked Ren up and down.
"A hickey?" Jian scoffed. "Ren, the only thing you've kissed in the last year is a textbook. Who gave it to you? A vacuum cleaner?"
Ren opened his mouth to defend his nonexistent love life, but the air in the classroom suddenly changed.
The temperature dropped.
Mr. Henderson kept talking. The other students kept taking notes.
But Ren saw it.
In the front row, sitting on top of Sarah Miller's desk, was a Thing.
It looked like a monkey made of cigarette smoke and tar. It had long, spindly fingers wrapped around Sarah's forehead.
It was inhaling.
Every time Sarah blinked, the Smoke Monkey sucked a stream of white vapor out of her ear. Sarah looked pale, rubbing her temples.
[ ENTITY: STRESS PARASITE (LEVEL 2) ] [ ACTION: FEEDING ON ANXIETY ]
Ren felt a spike of anger. In a place of learning? Disgusting.
The Shaman's reflex kicked in. Purify it.
Ren's hand twitched under the desk. He didn't have mana, but the System was ready to compensate. He started to form the Mudra of Dispersion. Just a small flick of spiritual pressure.
Suddenly, a hand clamped over Ren's wrist.
It was Jian.
Jian wasn't looking at the monkey. He was looking at Ren. His grip was like iron.
"Don't," Jian whispered. His voice had zero humor in it.
Ren froze. "Don't what?"
"Don't play hero," Jian murmured. "It's just a bottom feeder. It eats stress. Sarah has a math test next period. Once the test is over, the monkey leaves. It's part of the ecosystem."
Ren stared at him. "You see it?"
Jian sighed. He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses. He put them on.
"I see everything, Ren. It's the family business."
Jian released Ren's wrist. He picked up his Switch again.
"But the real question is," Jian said softly, "Since when do you see it?"
Ren's heart hammered against his ribs. This was it. The cover was blown.
"I..." Ren stammered. "Since last night. I touched something I shouldn't have."
Jian paused. He tapped the 'B' button on his controller rhythmically.
"Let me guess," Jian said, his eyes glued to the game. "A delivery? From Shaanxi? Big black box?"
Ren went cold. "How do you know that?"
Jian didn't look up.
"Because my Dad got an alert this morning," Jian whispered. "The Northern Bureau lost a Class-S Containment Unit in transit. They've been tracking the shipping manifest all night."
Jian finally turned to look at Ren.
"The Bureau thinks the box is lost, Ren. But you walk in here smelling like 2,000-year-old death, wearing a bruise from a Guardian Spirit."
Jian leaned in close.
"You didn't just touch it. You opened it."
Ren swallowed hard. "Is that bad?"
"Bad?" Jian laughed dryly. "Ren, you just committed a federal crime in the Afterlife. My Dad is already filling out the paperwork for a Reaper Squad to sweep this zip code."
Jian studied Ren's face. He was looking for something—a sign of possession, a glitch, a mutation.
"Did anything come out?" Jian asked sharply. "Did it bond with you?"
Ren looked at the Red Countdown ticking in his vision. He looked at the [ SYSTEM MENU ] button floating in the air.
If I tell him I have the System, he might report me, Ren thought. He's my friend, but his dad is the police.
"No," Ren lied, keeping his face blank. "Nothing came out. I just opened it, got spooked by a shadow, and closed it. But ever since then... I see these things."
Jian stared at him for a long, silent moment. Weighing the lie.
Then, he let out a sigh.
"Okay," Jian said. "You're lucky. If it had bonded, you'd be dead already."
He opened his backpack and tossed Ren a small, dried object.
"Chew on this."
Ren caught it. "What is this?"
"Dried toad. It suppresses your aura."
Ren looked at the shriveled amphibian. The Shaman in him recoiled. Desiccated Moon Toad? In my previous life, I wore cloaks woven from starlight. I wouldn't feed this trash to my dogs.
But then he looked at his empty mana bar. He was broke. He was weak.
"Thanks," Ren mumbled, suppressing the urge to vomit. "It's... vintage."
"Just eat it," Jian whispered, turning back to Mr. Henderson. "My Dad is a Section Chief for the Reaper Division. If he finds out you opened that box, I can't save you."
Jian adjusted his glasses.
"So chew the toad. Shut up. And pray that the Smoke Monkey is the only thing that visits us today."