A higher rank... Bradley's thought was a grim echo in the silence of his own mind. The casual banter with his friends felt a world away now, replaced by a cold, focused tension.
Well, I didn't expect our school nurse to be an evil spirit.
[She isn't exactly an evil spirit—her body got possessed,] Spirit Bradley corrected, his mental voice laced with analytical calm.
Possessed?
[Yeah. I don't know for how long, but she's been possessed. The real nurse is either still alive, trapped inside, or the spirit killed her before taking her body.]
A new kind of chill ran down Bradley's spine. This was different from the mindless, feral spirits he usually dealt with. This was a spirit strong and cunning enough to wear a human face, to blend in. A spirit strong enough to either suppress the host's consciousness or wear their corpse like a suit. That's... new.
[Yeah, you've been fighting weaklings for the past few weeks. Now we have the real deal, and it's right here in your school.]
A small, grim sense of relief washed over him. It's a good thing I always share my spirit energy with Kirby. It had become a silent ritual, a layer of invisible armor he placed on his friend every morning without him ever knowing. It was a precaution, a way to protect Kirby from the unseen dangers Bradley himself attracted.
So when the nurse's hand reached for Kirby's head, it wasn't just skin meeting skin. It was a clash of energies. Her malevolent touch had been repelled by the protective shield, burning her in the process.
[That was a smart move,] Spirit Bradley conceded. [But it raises a question. Earlier, when you dropped those two idiots in the infirmary, she was able to touch them without a problem, even though you'd left traces of your energy on them.]
Maybe a new spirit possessed her in that short amount of time? Bradley proposed, but even as he thought it, he dismissed the idea. Nah, it's impossible... spirits that weak don't attack or possess in broad daylight. The sun's energy disrupts them.
[Unless she has actually been possessed even before you brought them there,] Spirit Bradley countered, his spectral form mimicking a thinking pose, chin in hand. [Probably possessed before the school even started this morning, and she somehow managed to bypass your spiritual energy. She's that strong.]
Bradley gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. That's the most reasonable answer. I think she's probably behind the appearance of that anger spirit we killed. We cleansed this school years ago. No new spirit should have been able to establish a territory here...*
[...until now,] his other self finished, the words hanging heavily in the mental space between them. [She's most likely behind it. Higher-rank spirits command the lower ones. She's the queen bee.]
Tsk. Bradley's irritation was sharp. Normally, I can feel their presence, like a foul smell. But I felt nothing when I looked at her. She could've passed completely under my radar if it wasn't for you, or my spirit energy on Kirby reacting. That's dangerous...
[Just how you like it,] Spirit Bradley replied, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face.
A matching, predatory grin tugged at Bradley's lips. Yeah. Just how I like it. There's no fun if it isn't dangerous. Plus... she might actually be able to kill me.
[I doubt it, but we'll see tonight.] The promise of a real fight was a thrill they both shared. [The reason you couldn't feel her is simple: you're still too weak. Your control over your spirit energy is sloppy.]
Yeah, Bradley admitted without ego. We can't even achieve a perfect fusion and you can't fully possess me yet.
[Most likely because I am you, and you are me. We're two halves of the same whole trying to become one, which is... complicated.]
We'll figure it out later, Bradley cut the internal conversation short, forcing his attention back to the real world. Let's pay attention before the math teacher nails me with a piece of chalk.
Spirit Bradley chuckled but said no more, fading into a barely visible shimmer beside Bradley, eyes closed as if napping through the lesson on quadratic equations.
---
Hours later, the final bell released the students into the hallways, a tidal wave of shouts, slamming lockers, and scraping chairs. Soon, the classroom was nearly empty, and the silence felt vast after the day's noise. Only Bradley, Kirby, and Josh remained, their conversation a quiet island in the empty room.
Bradley zipped his bag shut and stood, Kirby following suit.
Kirby glanced at Josh, who was still organizing his notes with meticulous care. "You not coming with us, Josh?"
"No, I'm gonna study for a bit longer. I'll head out later. You guys go on ahead."
"What a study freak," Kirby said, nudging Bradley with his elbow. "You used to be just like that, Brad."
Bradley didn't respond to the jab. Instead, he walked over and leaned against Josh's desk. "What time are you planning on leaving, Joshua?"
"It's Josh—" he began, then sighed in resignation. "Sigh, never mind. Maybe around 7 or 8?"
Bradley's frown was immediate and firm. "No. Don't. Leave by 5 or 6. It's not safe to go home that late."
Josh waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, I'll be fine. It's not that far."
"I insist," Bradley's voice was low, leaving no room for argument. "I don't want to see one of my friends getting stabbed by a roadman in the dark."
"Roadman activities," Kirby added with a grave nod.
Josh looked up, his gray eyes wide behind his glasses. "D-damn... you consider me one of your friends?"
Bradley's expression softened into a genuine smile. "Yeah. The moment you spoke to me without any fear or disgust, you were already my friend."
"Ah... thank you," Josh mumbled, sniffing slightly as he looked down at his desk. "I... haven't really had any friends in this class. You guys are my first."
"No," Bradley said, his voice quiet but firm. "I'm the one who is thankful." He reached out and gave Josh's shoulder a firm, reassuring pat.
After all, you're the second person, after Kirby, to not slander me or hate me for what I did. Even though I deserved all of it.
[You're making the kid cry,] Spirit Bradley observed, his tone unreadable.
"Okay, fine," Josh relented, a small smile breaking through. "I'll leave early. Just for you."
"Great," Bradley said, his smile returning. "Then I'll see you tomorrow, Joshua."
"It's Josh."
"Yeah, I know."
As Josh reached out to shake his offered hand, Bradley let a thread of his black spirit energy flow from his palm, a silent, invisible shroud that wrapped around Josh's form.
Just in case something unexpected happens.
[How thoughtful of you,] Spirit Bradley mused. [Protecting someone you barely know. That's real progress for the famously salty Bradley.]
Shut up.
[I'm only spitting facts.]
"See you around, Josh! And don't goon too much over those books!" Kirby called out with a laugh as they headed for the door.
"I'm not a gooner!" Josh's embarrassed shout followed them into the hallway.
Once in the corridor, Kirby threw a heavy, friendly arm around Bradley's shoulders. "You just made another friend. You're making progress, man."
Bradley allowed a small, genuine chuckle. "Not really. Josh did all the work. He approached us. I wouldn't have had the guts to do it if I were in his position."
"Still, I'm proud of you. Now we're like the three musketeers."
"He's a cool guy. Didn't expect that," Kirby admitted.
"Same here. I was half-expecting him to pull out an AK-47 and shoot us all. He *is* the quiet kid, after all," Bradley said, only half-joking.
"Probably! If we'd refused to answer his question, we'd be dead!" They shared a laugh, the sound echoing in the now-quiet hall.
"But damn, he is a true man of culture," Kirby said with respect.
"It's always the quiet ones who are the freakiest," Bradley replied with a knowing nod.
They collected their things from their lockers and stepped out into the afternoon light. Two sleek limousines idled by the curb. Next to Bradley's car stood the ever-professional Vuitton. Beside Kirby's was his personal maid, Lucy.
She was a striking woman with hair the color of wheat and eyes as clear and blue as a summer sea, her posture perfect in her classic black-and-white uniform.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Lucy," Bradley greeted politely.
She offered a warm, matronly smile. "Good afternoon, young master Bradley. I hope Kirby didn't bother you too much on the first day of school."
Bradley glanced at Kirby, who flinched under his gaze. "D-definitely not!" Kirby blurted out, a little too quickly.
"Really?" Lucy's smile remained, but her eyes narrowed just a fraction, making Kirby shrink back.
She's really strict with him, Bradley noted with inward amusement.
"No, Ms. Lucy," he said, coming to his friend's rescue. "He behaved perfectly well today." Kirby sighed in audible relief.
"However," Bradley added, a sly smirk twisting his lips, "if he misbehaves in the future, you'll be the first to know."
Kirby shot him a death glare before ducking into his limousine, his expression promising retribution.
Lucy bid Bradley a final goodbye and slid into the car after Kirby, the vehicle pulling away smoothly.
Bradley walked to his own limousine, where Vuitton held the door open. "Good afternoon, young master. You seem to have enjoyed school today. You're quite cheerful," Vuitton observed, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips.
"Oh, am I?" Bradley asked, feigning innocence.
"Indeed. You were rather gloomy this morning, but that heaviness seems to have lifted. It appears Master Kirby is an excellent influence."
"I guess so," Bradley conceded with a soft chuckle, sliding into the plush interior.
The drive home was long. Bradley fished his phone from his pocket, plugged in his earphones, and let the world fade away. The melancholic strains of a Radiohead song filled his ears. He opened his novel app, the fantasy world of As The Word Denies by Vladislavldi, a welcome escape.
Four chapters updated, and they're long too? Let's go!
He spent the entire journey lost in the epic struggle against fate, the words and music a barrier against the outside world.
By the time the limousine crunched up the gravel driveway of his mansion, it was already 5 PM. He skipped dinner, his appetite gone, and went straight to his room. The enormous, opulent bedroom felt cavernous and empty. He lay on his back on the large bed, staring up at the pristine white ceiling.
Now, in the silence and solitude, with no distractions left, the thoughts he'd been holding back all day crashed over him. The grief returned, not as a memory, but as a fresh, physical pain, as if he were reliving the heartbreak of his parents' death all over again.
It has been five years. Why does it still hurt like it was yesterday?
His other self materialized silently at the foot of the bed, watching him. He felt the ache, the hollow emptiness, and for once, offered no sarcastic commentary. There were no words for this.
Bradley took a shaky breath and spoke to the empty room. "Alexa, please play 'How to Disappear Completely' by Radiohead."
{"Sure thing, Bradley. Playing 'How to Disappear Completely' by Radiohead."}
The haunting, ethereal notes began to spill from the speaker, filling the silent space. When sleep was a distant country and the pain was too sharp, music was the only boat that could carry him there.
{"In a little while, I'll be gone... The moment's already passed... Yeah, it's gone... and I'm not here... This isn't happening~"}
Such a beautiful, devastating song... he thought, his eyelids growing heavy. This is truly the most beautiful thing they have ever made.
{"I'm not here... I'm not here... Strobe lights and blown speakers... Fireworks and hurricanes... I'm not hereeeeeeeeeee... this isn't happening... I'm not here... I'm not here~"}
Who would I be without music? It was his last coherent thought as the song wrapped around him, a gentle, somber lullaby. The lyrics became a mantra, a permission slip to fade away, if only for a few hours.
After an hour, his breathing evened out, and he finally slipped into a fitful sleep, the ghost of the song still whispering in the dark room.