Cursed(6)

After sitting in the back and stewing for what felt like an hour, Rhyka barely noticed how stiff his fingers had gotten. His hands hadn't moved from the edge of the desk, and his nails were still pressed into the wood, shallow half-moons dug into the grain. His arms ached, but he didn't relax them. His jaw had been locked so long that when he tried to shift it, it clicked with resistance.

The class around him was still buzzing.

Not with chaos. Not with shouting. Just steady, consistent conversation. The kind that wasn't going to stop any time soon.

Eto this. Rinnte that. Mana levels. Core quality. How clean the spell was. How natural it looked. How they had to have been training for years Someone even said it was rare for two students in the same class to form cores at the same time—like this was some historic moment they'd tell their children about.

The words ran together. Rhyka wasn't even processing them anymore. They weren't conversations just sound. Constant and irritating, like someone humming off-key right behind his ear.

He hadn't moved in minutes. Eyes open, but locked on nothing. His vision was pointed forward, but he wasn't really seeing the blackboard or the students standing in front of it. His mind had gone somewhere else. Somewhere quieter, but darker. Familiar.

The kind of space you fall into when you've been reminded, again, that you don't belong.

Then someone spoke to him directly.

"Hey."

It was a short word, said sharply. Female voice. Frustrated.

Rhyka didn't respond.

"Hey, Rhyka."

This time it was louder. More annoyed. It wasn't just a tap on the shoulder it was a slap.

He blinked slowly and turned his head a fraction, enough to see the girl a few seats to his right. She wasn't being subtle. Her arms were folded tight, her eyes narrow, and she wasn't bothering to lower her voice.

"You seriously just gonna sit there like that?" she asked. "They're demonstrating actual magic and you're acting like this is nap time."

More students turned Not all But enough.

She leaned forward slightly, voice rising as her irritation built. "Eto and Rinnte are showing us something we're supposed to learn from. And you're staring off into space like it's beneath you."

Rhyka's eyes drifted toward her but didn't stay. He didn't speak. His face didn't change, except for the faint tightening of the muscles around his mouth.

The girl didn't take it well.

"You could at least act like you give a damn," she snapped. "Even if you're not interested. It's rude. And pathetic."

Still, Rhyka said nothing. His scowl deepened slightly. Just enough to show he'd heard her.

But he wasn't going to give her more than that.

Her eyebrows lifted in disbelief. "Really?" she muttered. "Not even a response?"

There were a few quiet snickers behind her, nervous and unsure. The class could feel the tension now, but nobody stepped in.

And then another voice cut through the noise.

This one came from near the front. A girl with a short, uneven haircut and a casual slouch to her posture. Her tone was completely different—mocking, but playful. The kind of voice people use when they want to humiliate you but pretend it's just a joke.

"Why is anyone surprised?" she said, twisting in her seat to look back. "It's Rhyka."

That got attention. Even students who had been silent turned now.

"He's magicless," she said, grinning. "Of course he's not paying attention. What's he supposed to do? Take notes for fun?"

A few students laughed—scattered and unsure, like they weren't sure if they were allowed to.

The girl shrugged and added, "I mean, let's be real. Mana cores don't just appear out of nowhere. You kinda need something to start with, right? And our boy back there's running on an empty tank ."

More laughter.

She smirked at her own words and leaned back in her seat, satisfied.

"No offense, Rhyka," she added lightly. "But this isn't really something you could ever do. "

That's when he moved.

The scrape of the bench legs on stone was sharp and sudden. Loud enough to silence the nearby whispers. Rhyka stood up, slow but with purpose. His eyes locked onto the girl near the front.

Her smirk faded just a little. She turned in her chair to face him more fully, still expecting a comeback, maybe a muttered insult.

Then the chair flew.

It came fast. One of the smaller side chairs from his row. He didn't hesitate. He didn't throw it in a rage or scream when he let it go. There was no dramatic wind-up. He just picked it up and hurled it forward.

The impact was immediate.

The chair slammed into the front of the girl's desk with a loud crack, hard enough to knock her ink pot over and send her papers flying. The desk lurched slightly from the force. She jumped back in shock, her chair scraping against the floor as she pushed away from it.

The entire class went dead silent.

The chair hit the ground beside her and bounced once before tipping onto its side with a dull thud. Ink spread slowly across the desk, dripping over the edge.

Everyone turned to look at Rhyka.

He stood exactly where he'd been, eyes forward, face blank.

But his fists were clenched.

His shoulders were tense.

And his breathing, though quiet, was uneven.

The girl who had been joking seconds ago didn't say anything. Her face had gone pale. Her smile was gone. She stared at the chair like it might fly again.

No one laughed.

Even Eto and Rinnte had stopped moving, their posture rigid as they watched from the front.

No one said anything.

Rhyka didn't look around. He didn't apologize. He didn't explain.

He didn't need to.

The message was clear.

Fuck off!

And judging by the way no one moved or spoke, the classroom understood that now.

This wasn't a tantrum.

This wasn't some outburst from a student who couldn't handle a joke.

This was a warning.

And for the first time in a long time, they saw Rhyka not as a ghost sitting in the back—

but as a person a vengeful scary person