The door behind us didn't just open—it exploded off its hinges with a sound like thunder splitting the sky.
The gust that followed was unnatural. Cold. Sharp. It wasn't just wind—it was the kind of chill that crept into your bones and whispered warnings to your soul. Papers lifted like startled birds, spinning in wild arcs before crashing to the ground.
We shielded our eyes, bracing against the blast. And then, when the wind finally died—
He appeared.
Floating. Wrinkled. Eyes sunken and glowing with a pale, unearthly hue. A ghost. Not the kind that haunted bedtime stories—no, this one came with a vendetta.
"G-GH-GHOST!!!" Ronald's voice cracked like a dropped plate, his arms flailing as he stumbled back in terror.
I, on the other hand, didn't move an inch.
Still holding the diary in one hand, I jabbed a finger into my ear with exaggerated nonchalance. "Can't you see we're reading? Maybe your ghost eyes aren't working anymore. Happens with age."
The ghost reeled back as if I'd slapped him with holy water. "Y-you… insolent! How dare you insult me? I am your owner! You are supposed to listen to my commands!"
"Owner?" I echoed, my voice laced with venomous amusement. "What are we, furniture?" I met his gaze head-on. "Sorry, ugly ghost. I don't take orders. Especially not from someone who looks like expired tofu."
He seethed—face contorted, jaw trembling, rage rolling off him in waves.
"You... I'm going to kill you!"
He lunged. Spectral arms outstretched, face twisted with murderous intent.
I didn't flinch.
I raised the diary in front of me like a shield, and right then—I saw it.
A flicker.
His eyes locked on the book, fury giving way to alarm. His spectral charge slowed, faltered.
"...Hack! Why are you holding my diary with your filthy hands?!"
'Ah.'
'So we'd hit a nerve.'
"Filthy?" I tilted my head, smiling sweetly. "Aw, looks like someone's projecting their issues. Must be tough looking like a prune that got microwaved."
His ethereal form rippled, anger boiling into hysteria. "You wretched brat! I'll make you suffer! You'll know true fear!"
He struck again.
To someone untrained, it might've looked fast. But to me?
It was like watching a moth fly into molasses.
'Slower than the traps Master used on me in training,' I mused.
As his form surged past me, I pivoted and struck.
Fist met ghost with a bone-crunching crunch that shouldn't have been possible—but it landed. My knuckles met his translucent gut with a thwack so solid, it echoed across the walls.
The ghost screamed.
And not the dramatic, spooky wail you'd expect. This was raw. It sounded like a soul being burned alive.
He reeled, clutching his stomach, his flickering form spasming like glitching data.
"Nice try," I said, smirking. "But you'll have to do better than that."
I glanced down at my fist.
'It was… warm.' Tingling.
"That felt weird…" I muttered.
"You can hit a ghost?!" Ronald yelped, voice cracking, eyes bulging like overfilled water balloons.
"Seems like it."
The ghost clutched his stomach, wide-eyed. "Who the hell… are you?!"
I turned to him casually. "I'm human. Him as well."
"No, Llyne. That's not how we introduce ourselves," Ronald said, deadpan. "We should tell him our names, not just—"
"I don't care," I cut in.
Ronald sighed hard enough to be heard in the next house.
The ghost finally recomposed, glaring with a newfound wariness. "Fine… I'll spare your lives if you return my diary. But defy me… and I will drag your souls into torment."
"No."
The word fell like a guillotine.
Ronald's gasp nearly knocked him over. "No?!"
The ghost's form twitched.
"Are you absolutely sure?" he growled.
"Absolutely," I said, twirling a loose strand of hair and smirking.
"Please! Don't heed her words!" Ronald shouted, nearly in tears again.
The ghost began to cackle. Low. Sinister.
"Hehehe… Hahahaha… So… you have chosen death. Fine. Don't beg for mercy when your time comes. There will be no second chance."
I stuck my tongue out.
"No need to fret. We won't beg," I said, flashing a cheeky grin.
"Llyne! Stop provoking him!" Ronald begged. "And don't stick your tongue out at an elder! It's rude!"
I shrugged. "I'm just stating what's on my mind."
"That's why people find you insufferable!"
"Thanks~"
Our banter danced between us like a practiced routine, until—
"HOW DARE YOU IGNORE ME?!"
The ghost's bellow returned us to the present, his rage igniting like dry wood.
I rolled my eyes. "Wait in line, ugly ghost. Ain't your turn yet. Sheesh. So impatient."
Ronald gave a polite bow. "Ah—apologies. No offense intended."
"That's right. It's Ronald's fault," I added, pointing at him without shame.
"Eh?! Why me?!"
With a feral shriek, the ghost raised a hand—and released a blast of pure energy.
ShzzzzzAAAM!!
The air cracked. The floor exploded where we'd been standing a second earlier.
I shoved Ronald out of the way and sidestepped, the heat of the blast brushing past like lightning grazing skin.
I let out a whistle. "Phew. That was close. We could've been kapooshed."
Ronald panted. "I feel like I'm gonna faint!"
"Don't even think about it!" I snapped, jabbing a finger at him. "You're not light, and I'm not carrying you."
Another blast screamed toward us.
We dodged—barely.
"RUDE MUCH!" I screamed back. "WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF A CONVERSATION!"
"Thank goodness he's slow as a tortoise," Ronald said breathlessly. "But… Do ghosts usually shoot energy blasts?"
"Who cares!" I barked. "Just move!"
"Can't you just knock him out?"
"Tried that!" I snarled. "Damage is minimal. I'd die before he even flinched! Now move your butt!"
Ronald finally took off, and I followed close behind. The ghost's attacks rained down like meteors, scorching holes into walls and floorboards alike. But they missed. Every time.
He was losing control.
His rage made him sloppy. Predictable.
But even so… we were still trapped.
"His attacks are getting annoying!" I shouted, flipping over a shattered chair.
"They're blocking us from reaching the door!" Ronald yelled back.
Then—I looked down at the diary.
Still in my hand. Still heavy. Still warm.
Still ours.
'This… might be our only clue to getting out of this haunted dump.'
My grip tightened.
"AAAH! Life's a series of gambles, isn't it?" I shouted over the chaos. "If we don't take it, what's the point?! HA. HA. HA!"
My laugh was unhinged. A little too loud. A little too high.
Even I wasn't sure if it was sarcasm or a breakdown.
But I didn't stop running.