Chapter 3

Judging by this rule, Jin Kasuga was not in a good mood today. The sky above was heavy with dark, rolling clouds, and the damp scent of earth filled the air. With each step, the moisture clung to his hair, and his shirt stuck uncomfortably to his skin. The oppressive atmosphere carried only one promise: rain was imminent.

(Should I stop by the store and buy an umbrella? Forget it. Why waste money on that?)

With that thought, Jin quickened his pace, shoveling Lou Blanc's delicious curry into his mouth. Yet, despite the rich flavors, an unshakable melancholy loomed over him. The idea of returning to school, facing the uncertainties of his future—it all gnawed at the edges of his mind, like a serpent lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. No matter how much he tried to push the thoughts away, they crept back in, whispering the same question over and over:

(Is this really how my life is going to be?)

On the TV screen, an exaggerated host was interviewing an important-looking figure. Bold text scrolled across the bottom: "Shocking Interview! The Truth Behind the Mysterious Disease That's Making People Useless!"

It was a new, unexplained affliction that had recently spread through Japan. Perfectly healthy individuals would suddenly lose all sense of desire, their minds unraveling into madness before becoming utterly dependent on others for even the most basic functions—eating, drinking, relieving themselves. They called it the "Disabled Syndrome."

Jin didn't care to listen any further. Dark thoughts already plagued his mind, and he didn't need more fuel for his anxiety. He threw down money for the meal, grabbed his backpack, and left the café as if escaping.

To get to school—or anywhere, really—one had to pass through Shibuya Station, a chaotic underground maze that encapsulated the very essence of Japanese society. Crammed into the subway like sardines in a tin, Jin sincerely envied Agnes's ghostly form. People worldwide joked about being overworked, but few knew that the term "salaryman" was first coined by the Japanese as self-mockery.

The subway was suffocating. Shoulder to shoulder, everyone looked like livestock packed into a steel cage by a monstrous entity called "society." They moved mechanically, performing their assigned duties without question.

In contrast, Agnes twirled through the air, her translucent form gliding effortlessly in a graceful 720-degree spin. Her ethereal dance should have been mesmerizing, but the crowd blocked most of it, leaving only fragmented glimpses.

(Like an artistic mosaic, in a way.)

By the time Jin emerged from the station, he felt as though his lungs had been crushed. He was nauseous, ready to collapse. As he stepped outside, he saw dark spots bloom on the pavement, followed by the rhythmic patter of rain descending in tight lines.

(Tsk. I should have bought an umbrella back in Shikenjaya.)

Sighing, he darted under the nearest eaves, seeking shelter. He debated his options—should he run through the rain to school or wait for it to pass? Sudden showers like this often disappeared as quickly as they arrived.

Before he could decide, another student rushed in from the station entrance, dripping wet. Jin recognized him—messy curly hair, glasses, and the same uniform. He had been eating curry at Lou Blanc earlier.

(What a coincidence.)

Jin considered striking up a conversation but hesitated. They weren't acquainted. And so, like any good social recluse, he merely glanced at the boy before lowering his head and pretending to be engrossed in his phone.

The awkward silence was interrupted when another figure dashed toward them. A girl this time—one whose outfit exemplified the school's relaxed uniform policy. A white hooded sweater beneath her black coat, paired with striking red tights under a black-and-red plaid skirt. Among the sea of students, she stood out like a beacon.

(I know her… A returnee student? What was her name again? She's in my class, right?)

She pulled back her hood, revealing a cascade of golden hair tied into two low ponytails. Her doll-like face was almost too delicate, as though she had stepped out of a painting. A girl like her was bound to be the topic of discussion among students. Unfortunately, since Jin rarely attended class, he had no real impression of her.

"Oh? So that's your type?"

Agnes smirked knowingly, resting her chin in her palm.

Jiang Tianwei rolled his eyes. He wanted to retort, but speaking to thin air in public would be social suicide. He glanced at Fang Zexia again, watching as she playfully adjusted her own hair into twin tails to mimic the girl. Ghosts had it easy—she could change her hairstyle with a flick of the wrist. If only he had that ability, he mused. Imagine swapping a 1,000-yen note for a 10,000-yen one.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp honk. A sleek black luxury car pulled up nearby, the window rolling down to reveal a square-jawed man with sharp features.

Jin recognized him instantly—Kamoshida Taku, the symbol of Shujin Academy.

Despite not being an elite school, Shujin was highly sought after, largely thanks to this former Olympic champion. Kamoshida's volleyball team dominated national competitions, sending wave after wave of talent into the professional world. Parents adored him. Students, however, had an unspoken agreement: don't mess with Kamoshida.

The girl beside Jin nodded to him before dashing to the car, slipping inside without hesitation.

(Ah, I remember now! Takamaki Ann! People say she's Kamoshida's… No wonder she looked familiar.)

Kamoshida's gaze landed on Jin Kasuga. With a raised chin, he offered, "Want a ride?"

It wasn't a genuine invitation. The coldness in his eyes made that clear. Jiang Tianwei quickly shook his head. He had no interest in getting involved. Shujin had long accepted the dynamic between Kamoshida and Takamaki, and no one dared to question it.

The car sped off, leaving only the sound of rain in its wake. Jiang Tianwei sighed, despising the way power played out in this school. But like most, he chose silence—after all, it wasn't his business.

"Ahhh! Damn it, that Kamoshida bastard!"

A furious voice shattered the quiet. Jin turned to see a blond-haired student storming toward them, his rage palpable.

(Dyed hair? A delinquent?)

He glanced up at the sky. The rain had lessened. Weighing his options, he lifted his schoolbag over his head as a makeshift shield and began his walk toward the school, leaving the blond boy and his anger behind.

The faculty office felt the same no matter where it was.

Textbooks often painted teachers as paragons of wisdom and virtue, but in reality, they were just another group of overworked office workers. Everyone sat at their desks, buried in their own tasks, going through the motions of the job.

Jin Kasuga's homeroom teacher, Kawakami Sadayo, embodied this mundanity. Her perpetually drooping eyes and slightly unkempt curly hair hinted at exhaustion rather than elegance. Dressed in a yellow striped shirt and a plain one-step skirt, she looked more like a weary employee counting the hours than an inspiring educator.

The document Jin had to sign was, at its core, a disclaimer. A formal statement absolving the school of any responsibility during his leave of absence. It boiled down to one thing: the student was on his own.

"Alright, I got it."

In moments like these, most homeroom teachers would at least feign concern, offering generic words of encouragement. But Kawakami was known for her apathy. No one expected much from her, and she didn't expect much from them.

"You…"

Jin turned back. Kawakami had started to say something, lips parting slightly before closing again. After a brief sigh, she dropped whatever thought had surfaced.

Jin left, but as he stepped out, he heard her muttering behind him, "Why do all the problem students end up in my class..."

She probably did want to say something—maybe even something kind—but in the end, she chose silence. Less trouble that way.

By the time he left the office, it was already nine o'clock. Too late to go to work, too early to call it a day. Walking out of the school, Jin pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before tapping on a familiar name.

"Got time today? Need to test the meds?"

Jin's other job wasn't exactly conventional. He worked as a drug tester.

Everyone knew that before any medication was mass-produced, it had to go through rigorous testing. First on mice, then on humans. That's where people like Jin came in—guinea pigs for unapproved treatments. It wasn't exactly legal, but it paid well.

The doctor he worked with ran a small clinic near Sixuan Tea House. She was always experimenting with something, and Jin had volunteered more than once. The side effects, though… frequent fainting, nausea. He had cut back after a few close calls.

Still, money was money.

The message went unanswered. Maybe she was busy. Jin sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket, resigning himself to a slow day.

"Let's go! Show me around the school!"

The contrast between Jin's lethargy and Agnes's boundless energy was almost comical. The ghost floated beside him, her eyes sparkling as though everything around her was a wonder. She gasped at the wind rustling the leaves, mimicked the chirping of sparrows, and cheered enthusiastically at the sports teams practicing on the field. She was, quite literally, a happy ghost.

Jin couldn't help but smile. It was hard not to feel lighter around her. He once mentioned this to her, and she had puffed out her chest proudly. "That's the magic of fragrance!" she declared.

Must be nice, he thought. The living had to constantly compromise, break themselves down bit by bit to survive. Sometimes, being a ghost seemed easier.

Lost in thought, Jin barely noticed that he had walked past the school gates. The rain had stopped, though the sky was still overcast. He straightened his back and turned for one last look at the school—a farewell to the place he had barely attended.

And then he froze.

"What the—?!"

The school was gone.

In its place stood a towering European-style castle, its grand spires stabbing into the sky like something out of a dream—or a nightmare.

Jin rubbed his eyes. No change. The castle remained, translucent and shimmering like a mirage. Through its walls, he could just barely make out the faint outline of the school.

"Wow! I didn't know high schools could transform!" Agnes spun around in excitement, clearly unfazed.

Jin, however, was not amused. "This is impossible…"

There had to be a rational explanation. A collective hallucination? A mirage? Or—

His stomach twisted. Maybe this was it. Maybe he had finally cracked. That strange disease going around—people losing their minds, turning catatonic—was this the start of it for him?

He yanked out his phone, switching to the camera. Through the screen, the school looked completely normal. No castle. No illusions. Just the ordinary campus he knew.

Jin's pulse pounded in his ears.

"No way…"

He hesitated only a moment before stepping forward.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the illusion intensified. The castle solidified around him. A massive red gate loomed ahead, gilded edges shimmering under some unseen light. It looked ancient yet pristine, regal yet ominous.

Jin pushed against it, expecting resistance. Instead, it swung open effortlessly, as if inviting him in.

The inside was even grander. Black and white floor tiles stretched into the distance, while pale walls adorned with intricate rose motifs gave the space an eerie charm. The air was thick with the scent of something sweet, cloying, almost suffocating.

A grand staircase split into two on either side of the hall, curving upward. Above it hung a massive painting—a knight in full armor, striking a noble pose. Something about it nagged at Jin's memory.

Then it hit him.

"Is that… Kamoshida?"

The resemblance was uncanny. Without his usual sleazy expression, the man in the portrait exuded authority rather than arrogance. But it was still him.

A loud clanking sound echoed from the side halls. Jin ducked behind a pillar, peering out cautiously.

Knights—at least a dozen of them—marched into the hall, their armor clanking as they moved. Their proportions were all wrong: bloated torsos, spindly legs, tiny helmets. They looked like caricatures, yet the weapons they carried were undeniably real.

The way their swords gleamed under the chandeliers made his blood run cold.

(This isn't some theme park stunt…)

Jin's instincts screamed at him to leave. He took a step back—

BZZZT!

His phone vibrated.

The tiny sound cut through the silence like a gunshot. The knights' heads snapped in his direction.

"WHO GOES THERE?! CAPTURE HIM!"

Jin bolted. He sprinted for the exit, ignoring the burning in his lungs. He was almost there—

Then he saw them.

Four knights blocked the doorway, shields raised, ready to charge.

"Oh, hell—"

Before he could finish the thought, they rushed him.

Jin barely had time to react before the world exploded into chaos.