The days after the rooftop incident were strange.
Every time Lâm Dạ Minh walked through the school hallway, people stared—not because he suddenly looked strong, but because he kept whispering to someone who wasn't there. The ghost beside him, Dương Thiên Phú, was invisible to everyone else.
To them, he looked mentally unstable.
"That kid's losing it," someone whispered."He's crazy after the concussion.""He dodged an empty trash can yesterday."
Rumors spread quickly.
His mother noticed too.She once caught him practicing footwork around kitchen chairs, arguing with empty air.
"Minh… are you hearing voices?"
He lied, but she didn't believe him.
What she didn't know was that Minh heard two voices now.
One disciplined and stern.One dark and hungry.
At school, things only worsened.
"Yo, my G!"
A hand slapped his back—Hoàng Lâm, his only real friend.
"You good from yesterday? I heard you got messed up pretty bad."
"It's nothing," Minh muttered.
"Nothing?!" Lâm scowled. "Bro, they could've killed you."
They sat near the basketball court where territorial fights often happened.
Lâm leaned in.
"Listen. Those Lê Quý Đôn boys didn't 'accidentally' hit you. They think they own this court. After school, we're taking it back."
Minh stiffened. "Lâm… maybe we shouldn't."
"Why? You scared?"
Minh hesitated. "There's too many of them."
"Not if we go together."
Behind Minh, the ghost materialized with a disapproving frown.
"Child," Phú said quietly, "this conflict is pointless. Your body is weak. Fighting now only delays what we must do."
Minh blinked. Delays what?
Before he could ask, a second voice slithered up from the depths of his mind.
Silky.Cold.Delighted.
"Let them bleed… let them pay~"
Minh's chest tightened.
The ghost's head snapped slightly, sensing the ripple.
"You heard it again," Phú said. "That presence. It stirs."
Minh whispered internally:You can hear it too?
"I can sense it," Phú answered. "But its words? No. Only the corruption behind them."
Gomboc whispered again, louder:
"Revenge~Revenge tastes sweet…"
Minh flinched.
The ghost's tone hardened.
"Do NOT listen to that voice. It hungers for violence. And violence will only lead you away from what matters."
Minh: "What… what matters?"
The ghost's eyes darkened with something old—pain, regret… obsession.
"In my life, I protected something precious. A secret… an heirloom… a burden. And I died before I learned whether it survived. Whether my enemies destroyed it. Whether my sacrifice was meaningless."
He looked at Minh sharply.
"I exist now to find answers. And to exact revenge where it is due."
Minh swallowed.
"So… you don't want me to fight because—?"
"Because brawling with schoolchildren," the ghost said coldly, "is a waste of time. Every moment you spend bleeding in meaningless battles delays the truth I must uncover."
Minh's heart pounded.
But the dark voice inside him didn't care about truth.
Gomboc purred:
"Fight~Fight now~Break them for me…"
Minh's pulse spiked.
Meanwhile, Hoàng Lâm kept talking, unaware of the inner war happening inches from Minh's skull.
"G, my boys are ready. We'll take the court back today. No pressure—just say the word."
He extended his hand for the signature "bear claw" handshake.
Minh stared at the hand.At Lâm.At the court.At nothing.
Ghost:"Think, child. This battle brings you nothing. No answers. No clues. No progress. It only risks your life."
Gomboc:"Accept~Fight~Feed me."
Minh's breath shook.
He hesitated.
His mind pulled in two directions—purpose vs impulse,discipline vs violence,truth vs chaos.
And then—
He took Lâm's hand.
Lâm grinned. "Good! Meet me at the court after class."
Inside Minh's chest, Gomboc shivered with pleasure.
"Splendid~Let the blood begin~"
The ghost's eyes grew cold.
"You have chosen distraction over purpose again."
Minh exhaled shakily.
He didn't know whether the fight after school would break his bones—
—or awaken something inside him that should have stayed buried.
That night, Lâm Dạ Minh tossed and turned in his bed.
His mind kept replaying the handshake with Hoàng Lâm.The promise of a fight.The pressure.The fear.
And the whisper.
"Break them~"
He flinched and sat up.
Moonlight leaked through the curtains when the ghost appeared at the foot of his bed, arms folded, expression tight.
"You cannot sleep," Phú said.
Minh rubbed his face. "How can I? If I fight tomorrow… I'll die."
"You will," the ghost replied bluntly. "Your body is weak, your stance nonexistent, your breath shallow. If you face trained fighters now, you will not last three seconds."
Minh stared at him. "Then help me!"
"I am trying," the ghost said, voice colder than usual. "But you chose to involve yourself in meaningless conflict."
Minh clenched his fists. "I didn't want to! Lâm pulled me in. And that… that voice inside me…"
A dark ripple slid up his spine.
"Accept it~ You need me~"
Minh shuddered.
The ghost sensed the disturbance instantly, eyes narrowing sharply.
"That presence is strengthening," he said. "And every violent thought you entertain feeds it."
Minh swallowed. "Then teach me how to fight without feeding it."
The ghost hesitated.
And then—
He nodded once.
"Very well. Get dressed."
On the rooftop of a pho-noodles shop, it was cold beneath Lâm Dạ Minh's bare feet.Saigon's neon glow flickered against the night sky as the ghost circled him with the strict posture of a seasoned commander.
"Lower your stance," Dương Thiên Phú instructed.
Minh did.
"Lower."
His thighs trembled.
"Lower."
"I'M ALREADY DYING!" Minh gasped.
The ghost ignored him completely.
"You chose to fight tomorrow. That was foolish. So now we prepare. Quickly."
Minh groaned. "Can't you just… take over my body or something?!"
"If I could," Phú said, "you would already be far stronger. But I cannot act without your will. This is your body. Your battle. I can only guide."
Minh hated that answer.
He would have preferred being possessed if it meant surviving tomorrow.
"Again," the ghost said. "Breath first."
Minh inhaled. Too fast.He tried again. Too shallow.Again. Wrong.Again. Wrong again.
Phú tapped his forehead lightly.
"A soldier's breath must be calm even when death stands a foot away. Control your fear or your fear will control you."
Minh clenched his jaw and attempted once more.
Slow inhalation.Diaphragm expanding.Shoulders relaxed.
Finally—
"Good," the ghost said. "That breath you must use in battle. One proper breath slows the world. One proper breath can save you."
Minh exhaled shakily. "Can one proper breath stop a punch?"
"No," Phú replied. "But it might stop you from freezing before the punch lands."
Minh sighed. "Great…"
"Now your feet," Phú commanded. "The foundation of a soldier."
He demonstrated a clean, efficient maneuver—simple to look at, impossible to execute.
Weight shift.Step pivot.Center balance.Retreat without losing guard.
Minh attempted it.
Immediately tripped.
The ghost pinched the bridge of his nose."I said pivot, not collapse."
Minh grumbled and tried again.
Collapse.
Again.
Collapse faster.
Again.
Collapse louder.
"How does my body FAIL this badly?!" Minh cried.
"You lack discipline. And muscle. And coordination. And confidence."
Minh wanted to jump off the roof.
"Now strikes," Phú said. "Simple military offense. No martial flourishes."
He threw a straight punch—clean, compact, perfect.
Minh copied it.
His arm somehow bent sideways.
The ghost stared. "That is not a punch. That is… something. Just not a punch."
Minh flailed in frustration. "Why am I so bad at everything?!"
Phú raised a finger. "You're not bad at everything."
Minh blinked. "Really?"
"You're worse than bad."
Minh died inside.
After an hour of training, Minh collapsed on the rooftop tiles, sweat soaking through his shirt, lungs burning.
"Ghost…" he panted, "I'm not getting any of this.How am I supposed to fight tomorrow?"
Dương Thiên Phú didn't sugarcoat it.
"You cannot."
Minh froze.
"You learned almost nothing tonight," Phú said calmly. "Your footwork is unstable. Your strikes lack power. Your instincts are slow. Your breath collapses when panicked."
Minh's heart pounded in despair.
"Then why train me at all?!"
"Because," Phú said, kneeling beside him, "you only need one thing tomorrow."
Minh swallowed. "W-What thing?"
"Survival."
Minh stared.
The ghost continued, voice low:
"I will guide your movements when I can. Your breath may steady you for a second or two. Your stance might help you avoid the first blow. But after that… you will be on your own."
Minh's stomach twisted.
"On my own…?"
"Yes," Phú confirmed. "A soldier cannot master even the basics in one night. But sometimes… the smallest bit of training is enough to change fate."
A cold wind swept across the rooftop.
Gomboc whispered deep inside Minh's mind:
"Or you could abandon training…and embrace me instead~Fight with hunger, not discipline."
Minh shivered.
The ghost's head snapped sharply.He sensed the disturbance.
"That presence grows stronger the more you entertain violence," Phú warned. "You must not rely on it. You must not feed it."
Minh didn't answer.
He couldn't.
His fear, anger, pride, and the dark whisper all tangled together.
The ghost stood.
"Child," he said, voice solemn, "tomorrow's battle will test you—not your skill, but your resolve."
Minh slowly pushed himself up.
Phú looked him in the eye.
"If you lose control, that darkness inside you will seize the moment. And once it awakens fully… I may not be able to stop it."
Minh's breath hitched.
"So what do I do?"
The ghost placed a hand on his shoulder—gentle, steady.
"When the moment comes…remember the breath.Remember the stance.Remember that I am with you."
Minh nodded weakly.
"Now rest," Phú said. "Tomorrow, you walk into battle unprepared… but not alone."
But in the dark, Gomboc purred—
"Not alone?No, no…You walk with me."