Two years.

  Two years of empty hope. The kind of hope that tricks the brain into believing in second chances.

  And maybe, just maybe, Arthur had finally been given his.

  "You can’t go to your damn graduation ceremony in a hoodie!"

  "Okay, Mom, I'm sorry, but... I don’t want to wear this stupid black dress they make us put on."

  "You don’t always have to love the outfit to wear it, Arthur."

  Arthur looked at her, exhausted. "Fine. Jean, hand me the robe. I'll wear it."

  "Thank God. Finally, someone responsible in this damn house," Arthur’s mom sighed, kissing Jean on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Ma.”

  "Thank you for having a brain, for being so cute, and for choosing this dumpster," his mom added, pointing at him.

  "Hey, I am not a dumpster," Arthur said, crossing his arms.

  Jean stuck her tongue out playfully. "You are."

  "Shut up, Jean."

  "Hey!" Arthur’s mom raised a warning finger. "Don’t talk to my beautiful daughter-in-law like that, Arthur."

  "But Mom—"

  "No buts. Get out of here, and buy her something as an apology."

  Arthur sighed. "Fine. Come on, Jean."

  He took her hand.

  They stepped out of the house.

  The exact second the front door clicked shut, Arthur dropped her hand.

  "I am sorry, Master," Jean said quietly, the playful smile instantly vanishing from her face.

  "You're enjoying the act a little too much," Arthur muttered, adjusting his collar.

  "But I'll let it slide. For the show."

  "Thank you."

  "Yo, cute couple."

  They looked back. It was Peter.

  Arthur immediately grabbed Jean’s hand again, lacing their fingers together.

  Peter walked up to them, eyeing Arthur's graduation gown. “You look tight in that.”

  “Yeah, mostly around the neck,” Arthur deadpanned.

  Peter chuckled. “So, you aren’t waiting for Dad to pick you up?”

  “No, we'll just take the metro.”

  “The metro? You're going to ruin your ceremony clothes. At least take a taxi.”

  “I'm saving my money for better things,” Arthur said.

  “Better things? Like a date?”

  “He doesn’t do dates. He’s not that type,” Jean answered for him smoothly.

  “Yeah, he doesn’t seem like it. Anyway, see you at the ceremony.”

  Peter headed back toward the house.

  The moment he was out of sight, Arthur dropped Jean's hand again, and they started walking toward the mall.

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  “Are you sure about this, Master?” Jean asked.

  “Of course. He has never let us down.”

  And there he was at the entrance of the mall: Daniel.

  Except... it wasn't exactly Daniel.

  For the first time in his entire life, the man didn’t have heavy black bags under his eyes.

  “Dany, sup,” Arthur greeted.

  “Are you still going with this ‘Dany’ thing?”

  “Always ‘Dany’.”

  Daniel sighed. He didn’t blink. Suddenly, his posture shifted.

  The heavy exhaustion vanished from his shoulders in an instant.

  His spine straightened.

  “Son. You look fire in this,” The Prince said, smiling through Daniel's eyes.

  “Like father, like son. Always fire,” Arthur replied, playing along.

  “Always dope,” The Prince agreed.

  Jean smiled. Arthur looked at her, but didn’t say anything.

  “Anyway, important day,” The Prince said, adjusting his jacket.

  “I know you don’t care about high school.”

  “Me neither. But they said on beabetterdad.com that I need to act like I care.”

  Arthur smirked.

  “So, pick a present, son.”

  Arthur licked his lips and turned. “What do you say, Jean?”

  Jean flinched, caught off guard. “It’s your present, Master.”

  “And now I am giving you the power to choose it.”

  “Ammm… maybe a perfume?” she guessed.

  “Beep! Bad choice,” The Prince said, imitating a buzzer.

  “Ammm… maybe a book?”

  “Which category?” The Prince pressed.

  “History?”

  “Great choice,” The Prince smiled warmly.

  “Good job,” Arthur said, patting her on the shoulder.

  They bought the present: sixteen heavy history books, which Arthur casually dropped into the void of his shadow so they could walk empty-handed.

  The Prince checked his watch. “Well, time flies. You need to get to the ceremony.”

  “I can teleport, Dad.”

  “I know, but I need to go pick up your brother, your sister, and Frank's family.”

  “Do you really need to get Frank's family?”

  “Well, Daniel is going to be mad if I don’t.”

  “Fair enough. See you at the ceremony.”

  The Prince waved and started walking toward the parking lot—heading straight for a pristine supercar.

  “Hold on tight, Jean,” Arthur said.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  Arthur snapped his fingers.

  The two of them vanished, reappearing instantly in a dark alley behind the school.

  Arthur cracked his neck.

  He pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to Jean.

  “Go to the Dark Mode Café.”

  “You have been doing this a lot lately,” Jean noted, looking at the money.

  Arthur didn’t answer for a second. “You can’t just stand in the streets for six hours waiting for me.”

  He turned his back and walked toward the school grounds.

  “Mister Genius has arrived,” Jose called out as Arthur approached.

  “Don't start with me, Jose,” Arthur sighed.

  “So, where is your family?” Jose asked, looking around the empty space behind Arthur.

  “They will be here any minute.” Arthur checked his watch. “But we aren’t waiting for them.”

  “I am not waiting for them either,” Jose smirked. “I am waiting for her.”

  “Her?”

  “Yeah, that cute girl that used to always stare at you.”

  Arthur flinched slightly. “She has been gone for the past year, Jose.”

  “Damn it, I thought today was my lucky day,” Jose groaned.

  “You're a lucky guy, you know that? Girls follow you around like flies.”

  “And I am stuck out here looking like a fat Michael Jackson.”

  Arthur chuckled. “Anyway, wait for her if you want. I’m going in.”

  “Do as you like.”

  Arthur walked onto the high school grounds.

  The air didn’t seem any different than usual, except today it was choking with the smell of every perfume mankind had ever invented.

  Girls had painted on kilos of makeup, making them look like porcelain dolls.

  Guys had dyed their hair strange, unnatural colors that made them look like walking rainbow mountains.

  A few guys were obsessively applying lip balm just to smooth things out for the photos.

  “Ew,” Arthur muttered to himself.

  He looked up at the sky.

  “I need a smoke.” He said.

  The ceremony finally started. Families found their seats, the noise of the crowd settling into a low hum.

  Names started to be announced over the loudspeakers, followed by waves of polite clapping.

  It gave Arthur a pulsing headache. Until, at last, his turn came.

  “Arthur Angel Mark.”

  The clapping started.

  “Arthur is graduating with the second-highest marks in his class, right behind Zach,” the Principal’s voice boomed over the speakers.

  “And, notably... he served as the President of our school's Cooking Club.”

  Arthur walked up the steps, shaking hands with the principal, and then with some other woman whose name he didn’t know or care to remember.

  He grabbed his diploma, walked straight off the stage, and went back to his seat at the very back of the row, where his adoptive family was already waiting.

  "Second place means loser," Joseph snickered, leaning over.

  "Sure. Just try to pass your classes this year, Jo," Arthur shot back without looking at him.

  "You son of a—"

  "Are you really going to swear at your brother?" Arthur’s mom scolded, cutting Joseph off with a sharp glare.

  While Joseph was getting a lecture about his manners, Angel was wiping his eyes with a tissue.

  "You were always special, Arthur," Angel sniffled, tearing up.

  "Oh, please. Like I didn’t come in first place my graduation year," Peter scoffed, crossing his arms.

  "Yeah, but you couldn't even beat DP in a game of chess," Mark pointed out with a smirk.

  "That was before I became a world champion!" Peter defended himself quickly.

  "We played a casual match last month and I still won, Peter. Let it go," Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples.

  John’s eyes went wide, staring at Arthur. "Wait... you guys played a match and didn't tell me? I wanted to watch!"

  "Yeah, because you're a headache, John. You breathe too loud when people are thinking," Mark fired back.

  As his brothers continued to bicker and fight, a sudden shadow fell over the back row.

  The other family had arrived.

  Sam was wearing a sharp, tailored black suit.

  Sally was wearing a red dress covered in sparkles—which looked suspiciously homemade.

  Maryal wore a sleek, elegant black dress, while Sophie stood beside her in bright blue.

  Lucy was completely ignoring the dress code, wearing a baggy hoodie and loudly chewing gum.

  Frank was standing near the back wearing his usual battered jacket, taking a sip from a flask filled with yellow liquid. (We will call it apple juice, since this is a family-friendly ceremony).

  And then there was Daniel.

  While everyone else had dressed up.

  Daniel was wearing a wrinkled shirt, torn trousers, and sporting a half-grown, patchy beard.

  Sam scanned the crowd of graduates, his eyes narrowing.

  "Now," Sam growled, adjusting his cuffs. "Where is that brat?"

  He locked eyes on the back row. “Aha. Found you.”

  John chuckled, nudging his brother. “Dude, look at these guys. They think they’re rockstars or something.”

  “Wait... isn’t that DP?” Peter squinted, leaning forward. “Ain’t no way. He has a beard.”

  John looked over at Arthur. “Did he come here for you?”

  “I think so,” Arthur muttered.

  “Bringing his whole family... yo, that is a strange move,” Mark said, eyeing the group.

  “Yeah, maybe they are just here for their own son or something,” Peter guessed.

  Then, the bizarre family started moving toward the back row.

  People in the crowd openly stared at Daniel’s torn clothes and patchy beard.

  Daniel didn't notice; he was just staring blankly, thinking about tea.

  They reached the row directly behind Arthur and sat down—except for Daniel, who walked straight past Arthur and approached Angel.

  Suddenly, Daniel's posture changed.

  The slouch vanished.

  Even his ruined clothes somehow felt different.

  “Mister Angel, I have been eager to meet the father of these boys,” The Prince said, offering his hand.

  Angel stood up and shook his hand. “The pleasure is mine, Mister DP.”

  “I wanted to speak with you for a minute, Mister Angel.”

  “But not here. Perhaps in a more private place?”

  “Of course, we can talk after the ceremony at my home,” Angel offered.

  “That would be wonderful, but this matter needs to be discussed as fast as possible.”

  Angel blinked. “Well... maybe we can talk by the fountain in the courtyard?”

  “If that is agreeable to you, then of course,” The Prince nodded. “After you, Mister Angel.”

  They walked out of the noisy gymnasium and stopped by the quiet stone fountain.

  “So, Mister DP, what is the urgent matter?” Angel asked.

  The Prince sighed.

  “I am Arthur’s real father.”

  Hello Ghosts and Ghouls,