**Chapter 1: Nobody Notices Ghosts
The School That Shouldn't Exist**
In the corner of a city forgotten by maps and ignored by governments, there was a school that didn't officially exist.
No bus routes led to it.
No parents picked up their children from it.
And nobody graduated.
They called it **Blackwater Institute**, but it wasn't an institute. It was a warzone. A decaying battlefield where the unwanted, the criminal, the dangerous, and the unfortunate were dumped together under the guise of education. Factions ruled the halls. Power defined status. Strength kept you breathing.
And among the many insane truths of Blackwater, there was one that everyone knew:
> "Ghosts don't survive here."
Ghosts were loners. The kids who didn't join a faction. The ones who stayed quiet, avoided fights, and kept their heads down. They were invisible until they weren't. And when they weren't… they vanished.
That was what Zen Red planned to be—a ghost. A shadow. A name no one would remember.
But plans don't survive Blackwater.
Because even a ghost can bleed.
And once Blackwater smells blood—
**It hunts.**
---
**Prologue: Last Day of Silence**
Before the rusted gates of Blackwater and before Zen Red became a walking ghost, he lived in a quiet apartment across the river from the city. It wasn't much—just a mattress, a desk covered in books, and a cracked screen that flickered every hour like a dying heartbeat. Zen never needed more.
The world outside that window was one of noise. Sirens. Screams. Protests. Cities burning from the inside. Schools shutting down. Crime rates peaking. People called it the Fall of Order.
Zen's parents? Gone. Vanished when he was 12. No letters. No warnings. No bodies. Just silence. The government gave him a monthly check and a warning:
> "Stay out of trouble, or we'll take the money too."
Zen didn't cry. He observed. Learned. He read law books, criminal psychology, engineering, and faction warfare. While kids played games, Zen built escape plans. Every alley he walked through, he memorized the exits. Every person he met, he profiled.
But that didn't stop the bullies at his last school. Not at Silvervale.
There was a boy named Bryc. Loud. Wild. Proud of his power: the ability to bend metal. Not some magical force—just years of illegal implant training, muscle mutations, and bone reinforcement. In Silvervale, strength was god.
Bryc broke Zen's ribs twice.
But Zen never screamed.
Until one day, Bryc didn't come to school.
People whispered. They said his arm had shattered in 16 places. Doctors couldn't explain it.
Zen sat quietly, reading a book about martial counters.
That week, Zen got a letter:
> "You've been selected for transfer to Blackwater School."
A place where the government dumped the broken and the dangerous.
Zen folded the letter, smiled faintly, and whispered:
> "Perfect."
---
(From here, continue with your already written content: "Rain again." and all the way through to the boiler room scene...)
---
**Extended Scene: The Day After**
**7:32 AM - Blackwater Rooftop**
Zen stood on the rooftop, his back to the rising sun. The building creaked beneath him, wind brushing past loose wires and steel beams. From here, he could see the entire battlefield.
The school yard was a cage. A ring. Students moved like packs of wolves. The symbols of Alliance, Markeeper, and Sabbath marked territory—walls, benches, fences. Even the drinking fountains were claimed.
He took a slow breath.
He didn't know who'd posted the footage, but it was everywhere. That tray hit—replayed, slowed, edited, idolized. "Ghostroom" was trending in Blackwater's internal network.
He saw it on phones.
On shirts.
Even painted on a bathroom stall.
> "Ghostroom: He eats rice, not fear."
> "Zen = Zero = Death."
He clenched his jaw.
Visibility was death.
And now he was glowing.
---
**Factions Stir**
Inside the Alliance war room, Black "Knuckles" Lee smashed a chair into the wall.
His nose was still crooked.
"Find him," he barked.
Next to him, Aisee "Magician" Serv spun a coin between his fingers. He was quieter, more calculating.
"We don't need to find him. He's already lit the fire. All we have to do... is give the wind."
---
**SABBATH - West Wing**
SABBATH was chaos incarnate. No real leader. No rules. A wild patchwork of those rejected by every other faction.
But one figure stood atop the cafeteria table—shirtless, covered in ink and scars. Ai "Zero" Hyuk.
"Y'all see that tray boy?"
Cheers.
"He's ours."
More cheers.
"He don't know it yet, but that ghost's got our soul. I'm gonna test him myself."
Someone laughed nervously.
"You serious, Zero?"
Zero's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"He hit Knuckles. You know how long I've waited for someone to do that?"
Silence.
"I'm gonna break his bones… then make him lunch."
---
**Frein and Zen - The Bathroom Scene**
Frein cornered Zen in the bathroom.
"Did you really think a tray slap wouldn't make you famous?"
Zen wiped water from his face.
"It was an accident."
Frein poked his chest. "In Blackwater, **accidents** start wars."
Zen's eyes narrowed. "Good. Let them come."
Frein blinked. Then grinned.
"Ooooh, spooky ghost got fangs."
---
**Hallway Ambush**
Later, Zen walked alone through Corridor B7—a narrow hallway lined with rusted lockers.
Three figures stepped out.
Alliance bruisers.
"Yo, rice boy."
Zen didn't slow.
"You got lucky yesterday. Knuckles slipped."
Zen turned.
"You here to confirm that?"
The tallest one lunged.
Zen sidestepped. Elbowed the second in the throat. Dropped to one knee and swept the third.
One breath.
Three down.
His hand hovered over a lunch tray he'd picked up earlier.
Just in case.
---
**Library Whisper Network**
Inside the abandoned library, students gathered like moths.
A girl with neon-blue braids passed out fliers.
"Ghostroom Initiation Tonight. Boiler Room. Bring a mask."
Kids didn't know who Zen was.
But they loved the symbol.
And Ghostroom had become a movement.
---
**The Hidden Student Council**
In a chamber beneath the old gym, behind broken walls and flickering monitors, sat the Student Council.
Not elected. Not announced. Secret rulers of Blackwater.
Seven chairs.
Only four occupied.
"Zen Red," the chairwoman muttered.
A man with a cane chuckled.
"Ghosts rise, ghosts fall. Let the factions bleed each other. We watch."
The youngest among them, wearing cracked glasses, spoke softly:
"Or… we guide the ghost."
---
**Finale of Chapter 1**
Zen returned to his room.
There were flyers taped to his door.
Spray paint on the walls: **"Ghostroom Rises."**
He stared at them.
Then, calmly, tore them down.
But one he kept.
A simple paper.
A drawing of a ghost.
Holding a tray.
And smiling.
He stared at it long.
Then finally…
He smiled back.