cHApTEr 13. TH friDAy (1 of 3)

The academic semester was almost over. Exams were approaching, and after that, summer break would finally begin. Mioray sat at a table in the university cafeteria with Angelika, a blonde girl with forest-green highlights in her hair. She was having pasta with a meat sauce for lunch, while Mioray modestly limited himself to a glass of water. He wasn’t particularly thirsty, but the alternative was enduring strange looks from people because he never ate in their presence. He had already convinced everyone that he suffered from a serious stomach condition requiring a strict diet, so during the day he was forced to consume water to show it.

Almost eight months had passed since the attack on the university. The cafeteria and the other damaged areas had been completely rebuilt, and at first glance nothing suggested that a horrific terrorist attack had taken place at Legare University. But some traces remained, and not only in the hearts of the survivors. On the university grounds, a small shrine had been set up to honor the victims. They smiled in photographs placed carefully on the ground, illuminated by candles and surrounded by flowers. Eventually, the shrine was replaced by a proper monument. Two statues – a male and a female student – stood side by side in silent strength. The statues had no faces, yet Mioray liked to imagine they belonged to Chris and Julie, his dear friends.

Angelika, who now chatted with him over lunch, had also lived through that nightmare. Her leg had been broken when part of the cafeteria wall collapsed, and at the time the injury had looked severe. Fortunately, it wasn’t life-threatening, and she recovered. Doctors advised her not to put too much strain on it for the rest of her life, but that didn’t bother her much. She wasn’t an athlete whose dreams had been shattered. She simply continued living as she always had.

After everything that had happened, returning to ordinary concerns like exams and grades and the future felt strange. Life went on, as it always did, quietly pushing the past aside. For Mioray, however, things were different. He wasn’t alive in the strict sense of the word. Quite the opposite. He was dead. Or rather, his body was.

Very few people knew the truth, and he couldn’t hide it forever. Sooner or later, someone would notice that he wasn’t aging. He would remain a twenty-one-year-old man, exactly as he had been on the day he was murdered by the serial killer known as the Dismantler.

Being dead did have its advantages. For one, Mioray didn’t need food to function, which meant saving money. Not that he would have spent much anyway. He still lived with his parents, and they paid for groceries. They usually cooked as well, so there wasn’t much to save in the first place. He had to pretend he was eating properly, bringing meals to his room only to dispose of them later. It was wasteful, but until he moved out, it was necessary.

Besides not feeling hunger, Mioray also didn’t get sick. If he got injured, his wounds healed far faster than those of ordinary people. There were no infections, no complications. Even if something as drastic as losing an arm happened, it would simply grow back and reattach itself.

If only his mind worked in a similar way, like a clock. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Even though he no longer needed sleep and had far more hours at his disposal, he still had to study like everyone else. He couldn’t absorb knowledge effortlessly by merely reading something once. Memory required effort. Ironically, when he got used to all the extra time from sleepless nights, it eventually began working against him. The extracurricular activities he had taken on didn’t make things easier either.

“Any plans after classes today?” Angelika asked, finishing her lunch. “It’s the last weekend before exam season. We should do something fun.”

“Nah.” Mioray shook his head. “It’s Friday the Thirteenth. I’m glad nothing bad has happened so far, and I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Huh? Don’t tell me you actually believe in that superstition.”

“I don’t. But you know… things tend to happen on Friday the Thirteenth.”

For example, last time it rolled around, Mioray and the friends he had made the previous year went axe throwing for Mia’s birthday. Erinel wasn’t invited, so it was just the five of them – Mioray, Mia, Kevin, Farah, and Matt.

All of them were undead, and since they didn’t have to worry about serious injury or death, they were rather careless about safety. Kevin didn’t participate, though; he only came because Mia had asked him to. Anyways, at first, everything went smoothly, but at one point, after Mioray threw his axe and walked forward to retrieve it from the target, another axe struck him squarely in the back. Farah had thrown it. Later she swore it hadn’t been intentional, but to this day Mioray wasn’t entirely convinced.

Naturally, the event organizer panicked when he saw an axe lodged in Mioray’s back. He rushed to call an ambulance, but Kevin intervened. Thanks to the strange properties of his clipped fingernails – which acted as sedatives because of the pills he took before his death – he managed to drug the man, who promptly collapsed. The group left in a hurry, jumped into their car, and drove back to the storage facility they called home. Only after they arrived did they realize that Mioray still had the axe stuck in his back.

Luckily, there were no repercussions. If previous experience was any indication, when the organizer woke up, he didn’t remember what had happened before he was knocked out. Or chose not to remember. Why would he call the police and risk his own business if the clients had left without filing any complaints? They had paid for the session, after all.

So that had been Mioray’s last Friday the Thirteenth. In general, he didn’t believe in superstitions. It was just that he had other things to focus on today.

“Oh, look, it’s Juju!” Angelika exclaimed, waving at a guy with a permanently dissatisfied expression who had just walked into the cafeteria. “Hey, Juju! Come sit with us!”

For a brief moment, Mioray’s and Juju’s eyes met. Juju grimaced and immediately turned around. Although he had just entered, he hurried back toward the exit, the fingers of his right hand twitching restlessly. He hadn’t had that habit before. Mioray had heard Juju developed it after the attack, when his fingers were broken during one of the explosions. Supposedly, it was a lingering nerve issue. Mioray sometimes wondered if Juju exaggerated it for dramatic effect to impress girls with stories about how he survived.

“You guys still don’t talk?” Angelika’s shoulders sagged. “What happened between you two? After the tragedy last year, I’ve never seen you together. Weren’t you friends in school?”

Mioray finished his water and set the glass aside.

“Yeah, we were. But sometimes friendships don’t last.”

Back in school, Juju had been Mioray’s only friend. It had worked out well for Juju as he copied Mioray’s homework and test answers whenever he could. It wouldn’t be unfair to say that was the main reason he stuck around. Once they enrolled in different faculties at university, Juju gradually drifted away. He only seemed interested again after learning that Mioray had become close with Chris who was the kind of popular, effortlessly charismatic guy everyone gravitated toward. After Chris died, Juju’s interest faded once more. Still, things might’ve been more complicated than that.

The thing is, Juju was exposed to Mioray’s secret. He had seen Mioray detach his own arm to save him from the terrorist attacker. He had watched half of Mioray’s torso get blown apart. Juju even reported everything to the detectives, but his statement was ultimately dismissed as shock-induced delusion. If Mioray had been in his place, he might have doubted his own sanity too.

The experience, however, had been real. Whatever Juju believed now, he couldn’t trust Mioray anymore. There was always the possibility that Mioray wasn’t human, that he belonged to the same category as the attacker. Among all the survivors, Juju had witnessed more than once the terrorist’s ability to detonate his limbs and regenerate them, while the others convinced themselves there had been tricks involved, pyrotechnics or hidden devices. Some framed it as mass hysteria or a symptom of post-traumatic stress. Angelika was among those who preferred rational explanations.

“Well, I don’t like that you and Juju don’t talk anymore,” Angelika said, puffing out her cheeks in mild frustration. “I’m sure Chris and Julie wouldn’t like that either. They wouldn’t want us drifting apart because of what happened.”

Mioray smiled faintly.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t.”

If only he could tell her that he had seen Chris and Julie after they died, when they lingered as souls. He had been the one to watch them pass on into the afterlife. Despite their violent and premature deaths, they had found peace.

The conversation shifted to exams and summer plans. As usual, Angelika occasionally pinched Mioray’s left arm, checking whether he could feel it. For what felt like the thousandth time, he assured her that he could.

Unfortunately, hiding the fact that he had once lost his left arm hadn’t been possible. By the time he got it back, the truth had already spread. With help from Detective Natalie Lance, Mioray fabricated a story that after assisting International Investigations against the Dismantler, the bureau had sponsored him with a cutting-edge prosthetic arm that looked and functioned almost exactly like a real one. Whenever someone asked about it or wanted to touch it, Mioray had to act impressed himself, as if even he sometimes forgot it was artificial.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it,” Angelika said, pinching his arm again and stretching the skin slightly. Mioray didn’t feel pain, but he still made a face. He would rather she didn’t pull too hard and accidentally tear something loose. “Science has advanced so much!”

“I know, right?” he replied, playing along.

In a way, he meant it. Whatever the Order of Mercy was trying to accomplish, the serum they had developed, the one that revived the dead and granted regenerative abilities, was undeniably revolutionary. Erinel, of course, was still convinced it was witchcraft rather than science.

Mioray’s phone, resting on the table, vibrated and lit up. Angelika’s did the same. Both of them glanced down at their screens. A notification popped up about a new video from a channel Mioray followed.

“Oh, look!” Angelika leaned closer, excitement flashing across her face. “There’s a new video about John Doe from Numinies!”

“You follow that channel too?”

“Of course I do! Who doesn’t? It’s all anyone’s been talking about for months. This mysterious guy shows up out of nowhere, acts like some kind of superhero with actual powers, and nobody knows who he is! Can you imagine?”

I know who he is, Mioray thought, but he didn’t say anything. He simply nodded along. The mysterious superhero everyone in the city was talking about was actually him.

The Dismantler was gone, stabbed with the Cursed Blade, his soul trapped within it, and life in Reques City had gradually calmed down. Mioray focused on his studies and helping Erinel guide the souls of the dead into the afterlife. Yet that wasn’t enough. Again and again, his thoughts drifted back to Claire, the young woman he had once believed he saved, only to watch her die a few days later, partly because of him.

Was there something he could have done differently, something that might have changed the outcome? The question lingered in his mind until it formed into an idea. What if he finally fulfilled his childhood dream and became a superhero? He possessed abilities most people would call miraculous. He could use them to stop crime. To save lives.

Some would call it naive or reckless, but the thought filled him with vigor. Mioray didn’t need sleep, so he could devote his nights, free from studying and soulwork, to something more proactive. By testing his abilities in real situations, he could understand his limits and push himself further. Kevin often insisted they should always remain vigilant and train their powers. Mioray hated admitting it, but the lawyer was right. And so, Mioray stepped into the path of becoming a vigilante.

“Look, there’s actual footage of John Doe in action!” Angelika said, turning her screen toward him.

On the video, the masked figure launched his arm forward, black threads trailing behind it. The detached hand wrapped around a lamp post, and he swung upward, using his arm like a lasso. He released it midair, reeled the limb back in, then shot out his other arm and repeated the motion, soaring between buildings.

“This is insane!” Angelika breathed. “I’ve only heard rumors about him flying like that. This is the first time I’m actually seeing it!”

Mioray struggled to keep his expression neutral. Pride bubbled up inside him. He had figured out the swinging technique entirely on his own.

“But what’s with the mask?” Angelika added, narrowing her eyes. “It’s kind of ugly, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. It looks fine to me,” Mioray replied, his voice slightly subdued now that her admiration had turned into critique.

“But seriously, why the mask?” Angelika continued. “Is it just for style? To stand out? Or to hide his identity? It doesn’t even seem practical. Everyone already knows it’s John Doe the moment he starts launching his limbs around. A motorcycle helmet would make more sense. It would protect his head and hide his face. If he wants to show personality, he could add cool decals on the helmet or something.”

Something inside Mioray deflated. The suggestion was logical, and that made it worse. A helmet would indeed be practical. But he liked his mask. It was carved from wood and painted white and blue, with patterns that resembled tree bark. It had no carved mouth or nose, only triangular openings for the eyes. Branching shapes rose from the top like a crown of bare twigs.

The mask had been Erinel’s present. During the Winterlight Festival, they had gone to a holiday fair together. Mioray treasured that evening, because there were so few days when it was just the two of them. Snow had fallen softly from the sky, and strings of festive lights shimmered in every drifting flake. He bought Erinel hot wine, roasted almonds, and cotton candy. To his surprise, she had never tried any of these, but she liked everything immediately, especially hot wine.

Street musicians played cheerful melodies, and a nearby choir sang carols that carried across the square. They passed a ring-toss booth where various prizes hung on display. The mask had caught Erinel’s attention. It was offered as a reward for landing a ring on a specific bottle. Erinel wanted to get it, and Mioray agreed to pay for the game.

The situation was complicated in its own peculiar way. Erinel was invisible to humans unless they were close to death, and fortunately the booth clerk and the surrounding crowd were in no such danger. If she had simply picked up the rings, it would have looked as though they were moving on their own, which would certainly have caused a commotion. Fortunately, most of greanrips’ actions in the living world went unnoticed or were interpreted in strange but harmless ways. That night, although it was Erinel throwing the rings, everyone assumed Mioray was the one playing.

And they must have thought he was obsessed with it. Erinel proved stubborn once she set her mind on something she desired. She missed several times, but she refused to give up. When she finally succeeded, the ring landed on the wrong bottle, earning a different prize instead of the mask. Mioray assumed that would be enough for her.

Boy, was he wrong.

Erinel won a small teddy bear, a ship-shaped keychain, a rubber duck, an inflatable donut ring, and even a doll. She was completely fixated on getting the mask, and by the time she finally won it, Mioray was nearly out of money, since he was the one paying for every attempt.

Still, the sparkle he saw in her hazel eyes when she finally held the wooden mask in her hands was worth every coin he had spent. She turned it over carefully, examining it from every angle, then handed it to him.

“It’s my present to you,” she had said, smiling warmly, her beautiful face flushed from the cold.

Technically, she had won it with his money, but Mioray accepted the gift without hesitation. It was the first time she had ever given him something, and he had witnessed her determination firsthand.

Erinel chuckled softly when he tried the mask on. She told him it reminded her of her own kind, and with it covering his face, Mioray was almost indistinguishable from a greanrip. Listening to her, Mioray was grateful the mask hid his face, because he was blushing furiously, wondering whether her words carried some hidden meaning or were simply an innocent observation.

From that day on, he cherished Erinel’s present. He modified the mask slightly, adding green-tinted lenses behind the eye openings so no one could glimpse his identity. When he wore it, he stopped being Mioray and became someone else. A hero who could step in and save the day without hesitation. Behind the carved wood, he felt fearless, as if nothing could stand in his way.

So when Angelika casually called the mask ugly, it stung more than he expected.

“Hey, why are you suddenly sulking?” Angelika asked, pausing the video.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about exam topics I still haven’t covered,” Mioray said quickly, masking his disappointment. “Anyway, is there anything else worth watching?”

“Not really.” She resumed the video and rested her cheek against her palm. “It’s just the usual reactions from random people. See for yourself.”

The video cut between interviews with witnesses who had seen John Doe in action. One elderly man questioned the nickname itself, arguing that “John Doe” made no sense. Something like Man-Spider would fit better, he claimed.

Absolutely not, Mioray argued silently.

At first, he had considered calling himself Dismantle Corpse, a name Terry came up with. But it sounded too provocative. People would immediately associate it with the Dismantler and the terror that name had brought upon Reques City. Including the word “corpse” would only make things worse. So he chose John Doe instead. A placeholder name for an unidentified person. And that was exactly what he was. It was also a quiet nod to the moment his new existence began, when he woke up in the morgue with no idea what future awaited him. Thinking about it now felt distant, as though it had happened a lifetime ago.

“Well, I should get going,” Mioray said once the video ended, standing up. “Thanks for keeping me company, Angelika. See you Monday.”

“See you,” she replied with a wave. Then she hesitated. “Actually, I have one request.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise we’ll hang out during summer break. I don’t want us to lose touch.”

Mioray gave her a thumbs-up.

“Don’t worry. Just be prepared for me to interrogate you about what’s waiting for you in third year.”

“That’s not fair!” Angelika protested. “I can study on my own, you know!”

But Mioray was already heading toward the exit, laughing as he went.

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