Schools across the country were ordering all students back to campus now.

  The kids had dragged their feet at first, and for good reason—another supernatural run-in was the last thing anyone wanted. But the school’s new Wraithkin Program changed everything. With actual supernatural specialists set to teach the classes, the once-dangerous school had instantly become the safest place in town.

  Some students even moved back into the dorms overnight. For the first time ever, they were excited to go to school.

  John arrived at Fifth High School to find a huge crowd of students swarming the first floor of the main classroom building, chattering away about something.

  He raised an eyebrow, never one to pass up a good show, and pushed his way into the throng—though the sea of bodies blocked his view of whatever was going on inside.

  “Hey, what’s up?” he asked a random student.

  “Nothin’ big. The school just launched six Wraithkin Classes for everyone with a Bound Wraith.”

  “Six?!” John muttered in surprise. “That many gifted people?”

  He’d expected the school to start a specialized class for Bound Wraith users, but Fifth High having six of them was a shock.

  His thoughts were cut off by a booming, arrogant voice.

  “Step aside! This place isn’t for the likes of you!”

  Heads whipped around.

  A tall, strapping man stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking like he owned the world, his gaze sweeping coldly over the crowd. But what drew everyone’s eyes was the severed finger floating in the air in front of him—pale, gnarled, and unmistakably a Bound Wraith.

  “Is he a student here? He looks way too old.”

  “Nah, probably a local from the neighborhood. Heard they’re not just testing kids.”

  John pieced it together from the whispers around him.

  The government hadn’t just held Awakening Rituals for high school students. In Blackwater City, everyone between fifteen and thirty had been given a chance to awaken a Bound Wraith. Official analysis said this age group had the highest chance of bonding with one—and their quick learning abilities made them perfect for training.

  With too few specialists to teach scattered groups, though, the government had herded all gifted individuals into Wraithkin Classes at the city’s major high schools. Blackwater City’s six biggest high schools had become training hubs, pooling all the new Bound Wraith users in one place.

  “Move!” the man snapped. The severed finger twitched, and a bone-chilling aura washed over the crowd.

  A wave of primal fear shot through the students. They stumbled back, scrambling to clear a path.

  “Ordinary folk stick to your own lane,” he said, his eyes glinting with contempt as he scanned the crowd, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t ever cross the line.”

  In just one night, his new Bound Wraith had turned him from a nobody into someone who thought he was untouchable.

  As he strode past the crowd, a mischievous glint flashed in his eyes. He flicked a mental switch.

  The severed finger darted forward, alive and writhing, straight for the students.

  They bolted back in a panic, screaming. No one dared touch it—who knew what kind of curse it carried?

  The man laughed, loving every second of their fear.

  “Huh?”

  His gaze locked onto John, who stood calm and unflinching in the chaos, his eyes curious rather than scared.

  “You seem to like it, kid. It’s yours.” The man raised an eyebrow, and the finger veered sharply, shooting straight for John at breakneck speed.

  Let’s see you squirm.

  He already pictured the boy’s terrified face.

  But in an instant, the man’s smirk froze solid.

  John didn’t even blink. He shot out his right hand and clamped down on the severed finger, gripping it tight like he’d just caught a stray animal.

  “Thanks, man!”

  Before the man could react, John spun on his heel and bolted for the stairs, the finger still in his grasp.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Wait—what?”

  The man stared, dumbfounded.

  It took a long moment for the shock to wear off. Then his face contorted with rage.

  “STOP!” he roared.

  No one had told him your Bound Wraith could just be stolen! He’d been too busy showing off to ask the important questions. And what kind of freak wasn’t even scared of a floating severed finger?

  “Snack time! Another snack!” John muttered, his fingers wrapped tight around the finger as he sprinted for the bathroom down the hall.

  “Huh?!”

  Students in the hallway stared, jumping out of his way.

  Snack time… in the bathroom?

  The man—Miller, as John would later learn—raced after him, yelling at the top of his lungs. “THAT’S MINE!”

  The crowd gaped.

  Is there actual food in the bathroom? Why are they fighting over it?

  John ignored their confused stares, bursting into the last stall of the boys’ bathroom and shoving the severed finger toward his chest.

  A free gift was a free gift—don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right?

  But the ghostly face inside him didn’t stir. Not a hint of hunger, not even a flicker of interest.

  “It doesn’t want it?” John blinked. He turned on the sink and rinsed the finger off, figuring it was just dirty.

  Still nothing. If anything, he felt a faint sense of disdain radiating from the face.

  “Huh? You’re too good for this?”

  John was stunned. The ghostly face was a picky eater? It only ate pure vengeful wraiths, not Bound Wraiths? Or was this Bound Wraith just too weak to be worth the trouble?

  His thoughts were interrupted by Miller slamming into the bathroom, chest heaving. When he saw the finger still in John’s hand, he let out a huge sigh of relief.

  “Give it back! Now!”

  Miller didn’t fully understand what a Bound Wraith meant, not really. But he knew it made him special—and it was the ultimate tool to show off.

  “You said it was mine,” John said, reluctant to hand it over. Even if the ghostly face didn’t want it, it’d be fun to study.

  “I said no such thing!” Miller snapped. He’d been joking! Who knew this kid would actually grab it?

  “A deal’s a deal! Keep your promises!”

  John pushed past him, ready to leave the bathroom.

  “STOP!”

  Miller lunged, trying to block his way. But John swatted his hand away with a single flick of his wrist, sending Miller stumbling backward, nearly tripping over his own feet.

  They were very different sizes—but their strength was even more different.

  “What a freak…” Miller thought, a cold dread settling in his stomach.

  John’s steps froze.

  Ron was standing right outside the bathroom door, his arms crossed, an unamused look on his face.

  “Mr. Ron…” John said, grinning sheepishly.

  Ron’s eyes flicked to the severed finger in John’s hand. “That’s someone else’s Bound Wraith. It’s useless to you.”

  “Maybe not, sir…” John twirled the finger between his fingers, muttering. “I’ve been studying it. It’s a middle finger. I was gonna turn it into a diss track prop—never have to flip the bird myself again.”

  “???”

  Ron fell into a deep, stunned silence.

  What kind of twisted thought process is this kid working with?!

  “Dude, just give it back,” Miller pleaded, a crestfallen look on his face. “If you wanna flip someone off, I’ll do it for you! Anytime, anywhere!”

  John shot him a glance, knowing he wasn’t gonna get to keep the finger. He turned to Miller, his voice stern.

  “You gonna stop acting all high and mighty from now on?”

  “I swear! No more show-offs! Never again!” Miller thumped his chest, making a show of his promise—though he thought privately: What’s the point of having a Bound Wraith if you can’t show it off?

  “Alright, I’ve had my fun.” John shook his head and tossed the finger back to him.

  “Wait—why’s it wet?” Miller blinked, catching it. He had no idea John had tried to feed it to a ghostly face and rinsed it off afterward.

  A devious grin spread across John’s face. He leaned in, lowering his voice.

  “The last stall was clogged. I’m a guy who likes to do good deeds, y’know? So… you connect the dots.”

  “???”

  Miller’s eyes bulged out of his head. He stared at the finger in his hand, struck dumbfounded, like he’d just been hit by a truck.

  Did you… did you use my Bound Wraith to unclog a toilet?!

  “Gotta say, it works like a charm,” John clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “Better than any store-bought plunger I’ve ever seen.”

  “You’ll never have to worry about finding a job, y’know that?”

  With that, John walked away like a legend, leaving his masterpiece behind.

  Miller turned pale, his whole body slumping in defeat. He stared at the severed finger, feeling a wave of revulsion—yet he couldn’t bring himself to let go. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  “That kid…” Ron muttered, still reeling. He thought he’d seen all of John’s weirdness by now. He was wrong.

  “Mr. Ron… is my Bound Wraith still usable?” Miller asked, his voice shaking, holding up the wet finger like it was a cursed relic.

  “Consider it a lesson,” Ron said, shooting him a sharp look. “A Wraithkin who lets their Bound Wraith get stolen by a random kid is a pretty pathetic one, don’t you think?”

  “……”

  Miller hung his head, too ashamed to say a word.

  “And one more thing!” Ron’s voice turned ice-cold, his aura flaring with the quiet power of a true specialist. “If you ever use your Bound Wraith to bully ordinary people again, you’re out of the Wraithkin Program. Permanently.”

  “Y-yes, sir! I promise!” Miller stammered, shrinking back.

  John was back in his classroom a few minutes later.

  William sat at his desk, his things packed up, the desk in front of him empty.

  “Off to the Wraithkin Class?” John raised an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

  William nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Yeah. John, if you ever need anything—anything—just find me. I’m in Wraithkin Class Two.”

  His Bound Wraith had made him a person of importance now, but around John, he was still the same loyal kid he’d always been.

  “Will do.” John nodded, grinning. “Work hard. I’m counting on you to have my back when you’re a big shot.”

  “You got it!” William grinned, then stood and strode out of Class 1, Senior 3, ready to start his new life.

  John shook his head, a small smile on his face—he wasn’t sad to see him go. William was where he belonged.

  His moment of calm was broken by Ms. Wilson walking into the classroom, her usual tired but determined look on her face.

  She glanced at William’s empty desk, saying nothing. To her, studying was still the only real path in life—but with the government backing the Wraithkin Program, there was nothing a simple high school teacher could say to change things.

  “Everyone, we resume regular classes today,” she said, her voice sharp as she noticed the students’ distracted looks. “Get your heads out of the clouds. For those of you without a Bound Wraith, your life path hasn’t changed. Studying is still your only way forward.”

  The students sighed, their disappointment plain—but they accepted it. Most of them were top students, after all. It didn’t take long for the classroom to fall silent, filled with the scratch of pencils on paper and the rustle of textbooks.

  And just like that, John was back to his quiet, ordinary school life.