"Wait a second," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. For a moment, I expected everything to vanish like a dream—but the living room remained, solid and real.
Still too real.
"Hey, Ronald, come over here," I called, eyes narrowing with unease.
He shuffled over, shoulders slumped and heart still heavy with leftover sorrow.
"Poopie," he muttered like a kid who lost his favorite toy.
I smirked. "Look up, you crybaby."
Ronald blinked. Then looked up. And froze.
"Is that... the living room?"
I nodded slowly. "Looks like it. Without the dust and mold and whatever unknown fungus that was there."
It… transformed.
The rot and decay were gone. The air no longer reeked of death.
Instead, the room gleamed—polished furniture, clean carpets, and sunlight that filtered in through crystal-clear windows.
"Did a fairy pass by here or something?" Ronald scratched his head, dumbfounded.
I chuckled. "If that's the case, I wouldn't mind having a fairy of my own."
"I was just joking. How can fairy exist?"
"Really? We already encountered zombies and ghosts, and now you're saying fairies don't exist?"
Ronald clutched his head and shook in place.
"Not in the real world! Not in the real world!"
I sighed and stepped forward cautiously, scanning the space as if expecting it to dissolve.
We moved deeper into the room—two cautious adventurers stepping into a trap that didn't look like one.
Then we saw the paintings.
No longer grim. No longer haunted.
These portraits were colorful. Bright. Human. The people inside smiled back at us, warm and inviting.
"The people in the portraits are smiling now," Ronald pointed out.
"You're right. Does that mean the curse or whatever it was… has been broken?"
He stepped forward, hesitation visible in his every movement. Then, reaching out, he pressed a hand to one of the canvases.
And the lights flickered.
A strange, static hum filled the room.
I felt it. An energy shift. A ripple in the air, like the building had just exhaled.
"Oh, that was cree—" Ronald began, but his voice caught.
His expression went pale.
"Ronald?" I asked, turning—
And saw them.
Dozens of translucent figures. Ghosts. Silent. Watching.
"GHOST!!!" Ronald screamed and launched himself at me, his whole body trembling. "W-We're g-gonna d-d-die!!!"
"Heh! Don't be negative, Ronald. Always think the positive. At least we'll die young without worry!"
"THERE'S NOTHING POSITIVE ABOUT THAT!!!" he wailed, holding me like a koala.
Among the specters, one figure separated from the rest.
A girl. No more than ten. Pale. Hair like snow. And on her shoulder—a king cobra swayed like royalty.
She stepped forward, her voice a hush of wind, calm and haunting.
"We won't harm you. You're our saviors."
"Saviors?" Ronald peeked out, his terror thinning into wonder.
I tilted my head. 'Her features... felt familiar. One of the smiling portraits?'
I peeled Ronald off like a stubborn sticker, and he fell with a soft thump.
"Ouch! Llyne, why did you suddenly let go?"
"First, my arms were going numb. Second, we're safe." I flexed my fingers.
"At least give me a heads-up next time," he grumbled, rubbing his sore butt.
I patted it with a giggle.
"Don't worry, those two cushions of yours will soften the impact."
We turned back.
The other spirits were gone.
Only the girl—and the snake—remained.
"Ack!! They're gone!" Ronald gasped.
She stared back with hollow yet gentle eyes.
"Oui~ Such a pretty doll," I whispered.
"That's not a doll, Llyne. It's a ghost," Ronald hissed, still peeking from behind me.
The girl gave a slight bow. "May I know the names of our saviors?"
"I'm Llyne, and this big guy with a chicken heart here is Ronald. What about you?"
"My name is Maria, and this is Hannah," she said, motioning to the cobra with eerie grace.
'A cobra. Named Hannah.' I blinked.
"That's a pretty name," Ronald said kindly.
"It is a great honor to receive a compliment from our savior." Maria smiled.
She looked up—her edges fading like ink in water.
"Unfortunately, my time is almost up."
She gently lifted the cobra and passed her to us.
"Please take care of Hannah for me."
She vanished, her body scattering like motes of light.
And then… only us and the snake remained.
"Oui... What an irresponsible owner," I muttered. "Anyways, who would want to keep a cobra that nearly killed us?"
Ronald reached out and petted the serpent's head.
"Me."
My jaw nearly dropped.
"Oui? It nearly killed you, though."
"Yeah, but we're friends now."
"Friends?"
"Yeah, my master always told me that people who duel in hand-to-hand combat become friends."
I scoffed.
"Didn't your master also tell you that some people die from hand-to-hand combat before they become friends?"
Ronald ignored me and patted Hannah's head again.
The snake coiled gracefully up to his shoulder. Like she belonged there.
I watched the surreal scene, then thought,
'Well, he has been through a lot. Crying and weeping non-stop… I guess he deserves a little companionship.'
And then I did something stupid.
I pressed my finger to the cobra's fang.
"Llyne! What are you doing?"
Poison glistened on my finger.
I licked it.
"Are you crazy?! Do you want to die badly?! NOOOO!!! LLYNE!!!"
"Hmm... I should have that antidote somewhere."
I opened my inventory like flicking through memories and tossed a vial to Ronald. "Here. Just in case he bites you."
"What about you, Llyne?" he asked, eyes wide.
"This little poison is nothing. My body's immune to most poisons, thanks to my Master who poisons me whenever she gets the chance."
"Oh... Err... Thanks, Llyne."
"Oui? Are you worried my Master might kill me?" I teased with a grin.
"Aww~ How sweet of you. Don't worry. My Master's a pro. She'll know if my body can't handle the poison."
Ronald looked away awkwardly.
"So what do we do now?"
I pointed to the door with all the theatrical flair of a stage actor.
"EXIT!"
We sprinted for it, hope reigniting.
But the moment the door creaked open—
A burst of wind blasted through like a freight train.
"ARGH!" We were lifted clean off the ground, slammed back down.
I groaned and forced myself up. "Hey! What's the big deal, huh?!" My fists clenched.
Then came the voice.
"You—you meddling brats!"
We looked up.
He was there again.
The old ghost.
Same tattered cloak. Same dead eyes. Same baldness.
"You again?! You relentless ghost fossil! Why don't you just die already?!"
"But he's already dead," Ronald offered helpfully.
"Then DIE AGAIN!!!"
And with that—
I kicked him.
Hard.