BINGED: Reincarnated as an OP-Chapter 24: A Weird Detention

Murmurs rippled through the room.

Coby leaned toward Ren, lowering his voice.

"That’s Reagan. The Golden Boy they were talking about back in the hall. He’s tearing the school apart online."

He raised his tablet to Ren’s face. Ren said nothing.

"Why is everyone staring at you?" he whispered again when he noticed eyes turning to Ren.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Are you Ace Renora?"

Ren was about to answer when the instructor’s voice cut through the noise.

"Devices away. Now."

Coby hesitated, and raised the tablet to Ren again, about to say something.

"Hey! You," the instructor’s voice called out, but it sounded so close.

Coby jerked and looked up, slipping his device into his pocket. The instructor wasn’t at the front of the class.

He panicked and looked around only to find the man beside him with an outstretched hand.

"Hand it over," the instructor said, irritation plain in his tone.

Coby stared at him, his tablet still tucked in his pocket. The man snapped his fingers and Coby’s device appeared in his hand.

"This class is a hundred times more important than watching a news flash of another attention-seeking student from Heroes Acts," he said, and the device vanished.

"You get a day of seclusion with intense study under my supervision."

Coby’s face fell. "Sir, I was just—"

Ren spoke before he thought about it.

"It was my fault," he said. "I asked to see it."

The instructor’s gaze settled on Ren, assessing him. After a moment, he nodded once.

"Very well, then. The punishment stands, for you too."

Coby stared at Ren in disbelief. As the class resumed, Ren felt the weight of that quick decision settle in his chest.

"Why did you do that?" Coby whispered again as the man walked down to the front of the class.

"Just keep quiet. That old creepy man might have ears that teleport too."

"Binged," Professor Goldahart started when he was at the front of the class, "are not merely demons that those rancid humans turn into."

The class gasped and muttered to each other in disbelief.

"What is he saying?" One girl said from the far left.

"That’s literally what they are," another boy added in a hushed voice three rows away from Ren.

He pulled out his wand from thin air, "They are demons, no doubt. But the humans don’t turn to them. Turning rancid itself is a process that corrupts the human essence," he drew a circle and shaded the space in it black, "turning it into a dark essence that demons can feed on. This makes the rancid body a portal for these demons to tear out through. They possess the rancid body and shape it to their form."

He waved his stick, "This common misconception has made people to think Binged are simply unhinged, sick, possessed humans. And like I said, you can’t effectively defeat what you do not know."

He paused and watched the shock and disbelief in their eyes, like a magician watching the dazzled reactions of his audience. He smiled, satisfied nonetheless.

"I’ll stop there for today, with a task for you. There are a dozen copies of a book in the library with the history of what the Binged are. Norhman Wrintz: Tales of the Darkest Days."

He arranged his coat, "Read up and we’ll talk more."

He raised his eyes to Ren and Coby, then nodded at the door. The duo got up and walked to him at the front of the class. He led them out of the class.

Detention was nothing like Ren expected. There were no chains, no cells. No dramatic locking of doors. He expected that a lot.

The professor led them down a narrow corridor beneath the main academic wing and into a square stone room with no windows and a single reinforced door. The walls were lined with inscriptions Ren didn’t recognize. They definitely weren’t decorative.

"You will remain here until I return," the professor said calmly. "Perhaps solitude will improve your focus."

The door shut softly with no sound of a lock. For the first few minutes, neither of them spoke.

Coby sat on the floor with his back against the wall, knees pulled up, staring at nothing. The earlier embarrassment had drained from his face, replaced with a calmer expression.

Ren leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded, watching him.

"You didn’t have to do that," Coby finally muttered.

Ren shrugged. "You looked like you were about to cry."

"I was not."

"You were."

Coby exhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t argue further. A thicker silence stretched between them.

After a while, Coby shifted. "You don’t really know how this place works yet, do you?"

Ren didn’t answer immediately.

"No, I don’t."

Coby nodded, as if he had expected that. He pushed himself upright and crossed the room to sit closer to Ren, lowering his voice even though they were alone.

"Purist University isn’t just a school. It’s a ranking system disguised as one. Departments aren’t just for training alone. They’re factions. Every faction has influence, funding, alumni backing, and political weight."

Ren listened without interrupting.

"The Survival department—" he gave a small shrug "—we’re the most practical. We handle field realities, disaster zones, suppression and clean-up operations, but we don’t get a lot of parades."

"That doesn’t bother you?" Ren asked.

Coby hesitated. "It used to. But meh, this is where I want to be. I feel every true hero should be here."

He leaned his head back against the wall.

"I always wanted to be like Golden Boy. Reagan." His voice softened with reverence.

"He made it look effortless. And look how everyone listens when he speaks. When I awakened, I didn’t even consider any other thing, I applied here immediately."

Ren watched his expression carefully.

"I was so happy to be Rancid," Coby said with a grin.

’What?’

"I sang all the way home that day and told my parents. My mother thought I’d lost my mind."

Ren almost smiled at that image.

Coby looked straight at him.

"Are you really a murderer?"

Ren met his gaze evenly. "No."

Coby held the eye contact longer than necessary, as if searching for cracks in his response. He didn’t find any, but his doubt lingered anyway.

"You don’t believe me, huh?"

Coby looked down. "It’s just... Reagan wouldn’t lie about something like that. He’s been a hero since childhood."

"Wouldn’t he?"

Coby didn’t answer immediately. His fingers traced the edge of a carved symbol on the floor.

Ren shifted slightly, "Let me ask you something," he continued. "Between someone you admire and the person sitting in front of you, who do you trust more?"

Coby swallowed, "I’d believe Golden Boy."

Ren studied him for a long moment, then gave him a plain smile.

"Good."

Coby blinked. "Good?"

"Yes. At least you’re honest about your bias."

Coby frowned. "Bias? I’m not being biased."

Ren leaned his head back against the stone wall.

"You know, when I was a child I read a book called the Book of Other Worlds. My dad owned it. In it a man called Marcus Aurelius wrote, ’Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.’"

Coby’s brow furrowed slightly.

"And another, I think Friedrich Nietzsche was his name or so, said, ’There are no facts, only interpretations.’"

"Where are you going with this?"

"When you admire someone," Ren continued, "their interpretations start feeling like facts. Their perspective becomes your lens. And slowly, you stop seeing for yourself."

Coby was knocked dead-silent by his words.

Ren’s voice remained steady.

"I’m not saying Reagan is wrong," Ren added, "I’m saying if you stop questioning him, you stop thinking and start seeing what things really are."

Coby stared at the floor, absorbing his words.

Ren tilted his head slightly.

"Say, if I offered to help you," he asked, "would you refuse because your role model thinks I’m a murderer?"

Coby looked up immediately. "No."

Ren nodded, "Then I guess your judgment isn’t lost yet."

They sat in silence after that. They couldn’t tell how long they had sat, they couldn’t even see if the sun was still up or not. The corridor outside remained quiet. Not a single footstep approached.

Coby checked the wall clock embedded above the door. He gasped, "Did you notice the time?"

"Yeah. I thought it wasn’t working."

"It’s almost midnight! He said he would return," Coby muttered.

"He is an old man. Of course, he forgot everything he said."

Coby bounced off the floor and knocked once on the door. "Sir?"

There was no response. He knocked harder. "Hello?"

He looked back at Ren, "They wouldn’t just forget us, right?"

Ren stepped closer to the door, pressing his palm against the surface. He could feel faint energy embedded in it.

"Do you know what these patterns are?"

Coby bent, leaning closer to the door. His eyes ran across the lines of text.

"Containment scripts..." he whispered and stepped back.

"We can’t leave until he breaks the seal."

Ren looked around.

"For a place meant for secluded study, there is no single book around. This isn’t forgetfulness," Ren said quietly.

Ren stepped back and reached into his pocket. A card slid between his fingers and he pulled it out. The edges of the card ignited with a scarlet flame that flared violently.

"What are you doing?" Coby asked with a mix of fear and shock in his eyes.

Coby watched patiently. Sweat had already begun to form at Ren’s temples. He pressed the glowing edge of the card against one of the wall inscriptions instead of the door itself.

A loud bang echoed in the room, throwing Ren and Coby back.

"What are you doing!"

Ren coughed, inhaled sharply and bounced to his feet again, totally ignoring Coby’s question.

He summoned another card and closed his eyes. He grunted in pain as he tried to compress the force in his flaming card. His veins felt like they were burning from the inside and his fingers trembled.

The card flew out of his hand while he was struggling to compress it, causing another loud explosion. The walls cracked and a shower of dust fell on them.

"You’re going to smoke us in here!"

Ignoring Coby, he summoned another card. This time the flame responded quicker, as if recognizing the command. He compressed it again, this time using his other hand too. The scarlet flame reduced. He pressed it on a line of script on the doorframe.

The inscription shattered with a controlled burst.

Coby stared at the weakening glow of the containment lines around the door.

"I think it’s working," he whispered in excitement.

By the fourth detonation, the final script cracked. The door’s reinforcement energy broke and the door groaned, opening a tiny slit.

Coby pushed the door open. The corridor beyond was dark and empty.

He stepped out first, then paused when he noticed Ren hadn’t followed. Ren was leaning against the frame, breathing slower than normal.

"That took a lot out of you. Can you even walk?"

Ren straightened, "Yes. Let’s get out of here."

Looking back, Ren noticed something. A ruby crystal stuck in the wall, close to the ceiling. It felt like eyes that had been watching them the whole time.