The bell screamed through the classroom—sharp, final, freedom.Raito let out a slow breath, shoulders dropping.‘Finally. My chance.’‘I gotta get the hell outta here. Can’t keep staring at that thing in the corner.’He snatched his bag and bolted up too fast, nearly clipping the teacher on his way to the door.Hallway. Lockers slamming. Kids laughing. Normal chaos.He weaved through it, head down, thoughts bitter.‘Two years in this dump,’ he thought, ‘and I still don’t have one damn friend.’A dry chuckle slipped out.‘Not that I blame them. Who’d wanna hang with the quiet weirdo who jumps at shadows?’He gripped his bag strap tighter, knuckles white.‘Honestly? It’s better this way. quieter I stay, safer I am.’His mind wandered, like it always did.‘Wonder if Megumi’s okay… wherever she ended up.’‘I’d give anything for one more minute with her.’The memory hit hard—tightened his chest like a fist.‘Nobody believed me. “Bear attack,” they said. Yeah, right.’‘What the hell was tha

“What happened… where the hell am I?”Raito’s eyes snapped open, head throbbing like someone had used it as a punching bag.Soft surface under him. Too soft.A bed. Real sheets, warm blanket, actual pillows.He blinked hard, turning his head slow.Dim amber light spilled from hidden lamps, painting the room in warm gold. Sleek furniture. Neat shelves lined with books and weird gadgets. Everything screamed money, class, control.Nothing like the cheap apartments or empty hallways he knew.‘This place… what the—?’Then he saw her.Back turned, sitting relaxed at a desk, laptop glowing in front of her.“Yes,” she said, voice low, fingers flying across keys. “Still no clue what he is exactly. Thinking I’ll drag him along in the morning.”Raito’s breath snagged.‘That voice.’No doubt.Peace.A rough male voice crackled from the speakers. “You trust him?”She didn’t even pause typing.“Don’t worry,” she said, casual as ordering coffee. “I can handle him. Kid’s a small fry.”Click. Call end

He exhaled slow, shaky.“But I figured something out. When I don’t look at them—when I straight-up act like they’re not there—they can’t see me either.”His voice dropped lower.“It’s not bravery. Not some power I control.” He shook his head hard. “It’s fear. Pure fear.”Fists clenched tighter, nails biting skin.“I pretend they don’t exist because I’m too damn scared to face them.”He stared at his hands again, like they were the enemy.“And the second I do that… they go blind to me too.”Barely a whisper now.“It’s like my awareness decides if they even know I’m real.”Silence stretched.Peace finally spoke, voice quieter, almost thoughtful. She turned away, boots echoing slow across the stone as she paced.“No way to prove it for sure,” she said.“But… I’ve got a theory.”Raito’s head snapped up.She didn’t look back yet, just kept pacing.“Wild guess,” she went on, “but ghosts can possess people. Not forever—usually just a short ride. Especially when there’s a deep emotional tie.”

“A cursed weapon hands you power no human body was ever built to handle,” Peace went on, voice steady, like she was reading a death sentence. “Every ability it has? Straight from the ghost’s obsession—the thing that kept it chained here.”Her fingers tightened around the dagger, knuckles whitening.“This one dropped from a white-aura ghost. Serial killer. Max the Butcher.”She said it calm, like naming the weather.“His obsession wasn’t the kill itself. Nah. He poisoned his blades, stabbed his victims, then sat back and watched. Timed how long they fought. How they broke. How they begged.”She lowered the dagger slow.“That sick fascination? Became the weapon’s soul.”Raito felt ice crawl up his arms, prickling his skin.“When a ghost levels up from blue to white,” Peace continued, “the object they loved most in life shows up with them. From then on, it’s part of them—almost invisible to regular people.”She locked eyes with him.“And only a cursed weapon can actually hurt a ghost.”H

He headed down the cracked sidewalk toward a beat-up motorcycle parked under a leaning carport, half-buried under a ratty tarp.Raito hurried after him—because what else was he gonna do?“One more stop before we hit the base, I've got a mission” Hank muttered, sliding a dusty key into the ignition.The engine coughed once, hacked like it resented being woken up, then roared to life—vibration rumbling through the frame like a pissed-off beast finally let out of its cage.He jerked his head toward the back seat. “Hop on.”Raito climbed on awkward as hell, hands gripping the edges tight, knuckles already white.Hank twisted the throttle hard.They shot forward—tires spitting gravel before grabbing smooth asphalt. Wind slammed into Raito’s face, cold and sharp, whipping his hair wild, carrying that faint, distant smell of coming rain.City outskirts blurred past—flickering neon on rundown convenience stores, quiet residential streets with kids’ bikes dumped on lawns, overgrown empty lots—