After a day of torment, school finally ended.
The moment Ryan got into the car, he felt relieved.
What had happened today made him feel as if he were Tang Monk in the Land of Women.
Wherever he went, women approached him enthusiastically to exchange contact information, whether they knew him or not. He received dozens of handwritten notes with phone numbers.
If he wanted, he could probably change girlfriends every month.
The problem was that it would have been fine if they had all been beautiful, sexy foreign women.
But more than 90% of the women who took the initiative were overweight and ordinary-looking, yet surprisingly confident.
These big-breasted, big-bottomed women were a popular type in America.
But Ryan didn't like that type.
Compared to these overly plump American women, he preferred slightly curvier figures, the typical Eastern aesthetic.
There were far too few women who met his standards.
On his way back into town, Ryan spotted his new neighbors—a family of three—busy in their yard as he passed by the haunted house.
Vanessa, who was bent over organizing ingredients, noticed Ryan driving by out of the corner of her eye.
"Hi!"
Seeing the neighbor's wife wave at him, Ryan hit the brakes and pulled over.
"What are you up to?" he asked, eyeing the scene in the yard curiously.
"We're having a family barbecue. Want to join us?" Vanessa invited him warmly.
Ryan was about to decline when William, having heard the commotion, walked over.
"Come on," he said with a grin.
"We've got way too much food. It'll go to waste if we don't finish it." We were planning to invite the neighbors anyway. Think of it as a housewarming party."
Faced with their enthusiasm, Ryan reluctantly agreed.
At this point, refusing would have been rude.
After all, they were neighbors and would likely cross paths often. It was best to stay on good terms.
Even in America, connections are important.
Not wanting to impose, Ryan excused himself, went home, showered, changed into fresh clothes, and then returned.
When he arrived at his neighbors' house, their yard was already filled with people.
A quick glance told Ryan that they were all locals from nearby houses.
Still, the turnout wasn't huge—only about a dozen or so people.
Ryan wasn't surprised.
Given the haunted house's reputation, some people didn't care or believe in ghosts, while others avoided such places entirely.
The party was in full swing, with everyone eating, drinking, and having a great time.
The men gathered around the TV, drinking and chatting, while the women huddled together, swapping gossip.
Women's knack for gossip ran deep.
Ryan didn't have much in common with the older men, so after a few drinks, he slipped away to get some air.
Spotting Vanessa, who was still busy with the food, he approached her.
"Need any help?" he asked quietly.
"No, I've got it," Vanessa replied, wiping sweat from her brow with a smile.
Ryan shrugged and took a seat nearby to watch her work.
The breeze pressed her loose dress against her body, revealing more than intended.
Ryan's eyebrows shot up. Do women here just not wear underwear?
Come to think of it, American women did dress casually when running errands.
He'd seen plenty of them in supermarkets wearing next to nothing—some even in bikinis. Formal wear seemed reserved for work.
"Here you go!"
Vanessa bent over and handed him a plate of freshly grilled beef.
As she leaned forward, her dress gaped slightly.
Ryan's breath hitched.
He quickly averted his gaze, pretending to focus on the food.
"I swear I didn't mean to see that."
He grabbed the plate, took a swig of his drink, and tried to act normal.
"That's my cup…" Vanessa murmured.
"Huh?"
Ryan froze, his face heating up. [T/N: 🫡]
Damn it!
"It's fine. Go ahead," Vanessa said, amused by his flustered reaction.
She turned back to her work, but a thought flickered through her mind.
They say younger guys like older women. Maybe it's true.
"I almost embarrassed myself," Ryan muttered into his orange juice.
Thankfully, this wasn't his home planet—back there, a misunderstanding like this could get him into trouble.
As the party wound down, Ryan stood to leave with the others.
But then—
"Huh?"
His expression shifted.
He reached into his shirt and pulled out a silver cross necklace.
It was warm.
Too warm.
His eyes snapped toward the villa's entrance.
A young woman in a maid uniform was gliding toward the house.
A person?
No.
This was a goddamn ghost.
—