Ron had no idea what was going through John’s mind at that moment. He only stared at him with venomous eyes.

  Moments earlier, his emotions had spiraled out of control, his power plummeting on all fronts—so much so that the attack had forced him to reveal his true form.

  Even now, he still thought John had only struck because he’d refused to pay the protection money.

  After all, in this day and age, even a ghost couldn’t make sense of a lunatic’s antics.

  But as he looked at John’s impassive face, confusion flickered through him once more.

  He’d revealed his true form. Why wasn’t John scared?

  Hundreds of students around them wore expressions of pure terror; some even bolted on the spot. Even the three homeroom teachers had a hint of dread in their eyes. Though they’d dabbed rooster blood on themselves to ward off evil, they hesitated to step forward and attack.

  John, however, crossed his arms and fixed his gaze on the rotting corpse before him.

  “What’s this? You think shifting forms lets you skip out on protection money? If you’ve got two identities, you owe double.”

  ???

  The ghost’s mind short-circuited all over again.

  Was this something any sane person would say?!

  “You dare hesitate?!”

  Seeing the ghost’s stunned state, John threw another deliberate punch.

  BOOM!

  The fierce ghost’s body was sent flying into Room 3028.

  In that instant, it finally understood: John wasn’t afraid of him at all.

  John lunged forward, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. His fists clenched, ready to strike.

  But just then, the ghost let out a shrill scream.

  An otherworldly force slammed into John, freezing his body in place. His mind went blank, and he stood there motionless.

  The ghost rose, shot him a venomous glare, then spun and fled into the bathroom.

  Seconds later, John snapped out of his stupor. Without a second thought, he chased after it.

  “Huh?”

  John scanned the room, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

  The ghost was gone. Vanished without a trace.

  He studied the cramped bathroom, his gaze finally settling on the hole in the toilet bowl—the only exit he could think of.

  He knelt down and peered into the hole with one eye, but all he saw was inky blackness, nothing at all.

  The warm tingle in his chest faded away.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “It got away?”

  A hint of regret crossed John’s face. He’d thought he’d score a big meal tonight.

  “John, you okay?”

  Ethan and the others rushed in, worry plain in their eyes.

  “The ghost’s the one with problems, not me.”

  John shook his head, then sighed. “Shame it got away.”

  “Just glad you’re unharmed. Ghosts are never easy to kill.” Ethan comforted him, then added, “Also, your hand—you’re not hurt, are you?”

  That ghost was clearly a Curse Ghost. Attacking one head-on meant risking being cursed.

  “Its power’s too weak to curse me.”

  That was exactly why John had charged in swinging without a second thought.

  His understanding of ghosts was still limited; the only way he judged their strength was by whether he could touch a Spirit Ghost, or ignore a Curse Ghost’s hexes.

  If his first punch had left him cursed, it would’ve meant the ghost was out of his league—and John would’ve bolted on the spot.

  One of the second-class homeroom teachers spoke up then. “But student, how did you see through its disguise?”

  “I’ve hated this guy for a while now.”

  John shrugged and said it flatly.

  ...

  The three teachers’ mouths twitched. Was that really reason enough to attack without mercy?

  John had no intention of mentioning the ghostly aura he’d spotted, so he brushed off the question. “I think the bigger issue right now is: where the hell is the real Ron?”

  The words hit the three teachers like a punch. They exchanged glances, but none of them spoke.

  In their minds, if a ghost had dared to walk around disguised as Ron, it could only mean one thing—Ron was already dead.

  “He’s not dead.”

  John’s voice was firm. “This ghost’s not strong enough to kill him.”

  Even though John had ambushed the ghost, he was certain of its weakness. It didn’t have the power to take Ron’s life.

  “Could Ron have been forced to face his worst fear?” one teacher ventured.

  “Unlikely.”

  Ethan was the first to disagree. He knew Ron well enough to say, “He wouldn’t have been sent here as Fifth High’s head instructor if he didn’t have nerves of steel. The odds of him cracking are next to zero.”

  As the four spoke, a commotion erupted from the first floor below.

  “Something else is happening?”

  They shared a look, then hurried downstairs.

  Hundreds of students had crowded into the hotel’s lobby, their faces filled with panic. None dared to leave, though—they only stared at the hotel’s entrance, hesitant.

  “Still here?” John muttered. He’d thought most of them would’ve packed their bags and run by now. With Ron gone, there was no reason for them to stay.

  “Boss! You’re finally here! We’ve been waiting for you!”

  As soon as John appeared, the students swarmed him, like a group of shipwrecked sailors spotting land.

  “Waiting for me? Why?”

  “We... we don’t dare leave.”

  It was pitch black outside—night had fallen completely. The mountain roads were rough and winding, and none of them knew which way to go. If the ghost came after them, they’d be dead meat.

  “Just call someone.” John glanced at them.

  “No service.” The students shook their heads. Mountain signal was spotty on a good day, and the ghost’s otherworldly presence was jamming it completely. No calls were getting through.

  Someone spoke up, voice desperate. “Boss, will you lead us down the mountain?”

  “Nope.”

  John didn’t hesitate. He walked over to a couch and sank into it, making himself comfortable.

  The students’ faces fell—some silent, some angry.

  Then, a snarky voice cut through the crowd, from somewhere in the back: “Why would he lead us? He’s the one collecting protection money. He’d never do it for free—where’s his payout in that?”

  The students’ expressions shifted. They wanted to argue, but none dared.

  “Even if you paid me, I still wouldn’t lead you down.”

  John’s tone was cold. “There’s only one ghost in this hotel. Who knows how many are waiting for us on the mountain?”

  The ghost was injured—why would he pass up an easy target to risk his neck in the mountains?

  The snarky voice spoke again, louder this time, dripping with self-righteousness: “But people could die if we stay here! Lives are on the line! Don’t you care about that?!”

  John’s eyes narrowed. He’d had enough of the lectures. But he still kept his voice calm as he said, “If we leave, I could die too.”

  “This is hundreds of lives! Isn’t that worth one person taking a risk?!”

  The words were barely out of the boy’s mouth when John moved.

  In the blink of an eye, he lunged into the crowd and backhanded the boy hard across the face.

  The boy went flying, landing on the floor with a thud. Fear flashed in his eyes—he’d never thought John would actually find him, hidden as he was in the crowd.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” he yelped, clutching his stinging cheek and playing dumb.

  John stepped back, crossing his arms once more. His gaze was cold, his voice flat.

  “I’m revoking your moral coercion. And slapping you for it. Got a problem with that?”