Sion Vale stood in front of a door that smelled of rust and forgotten memories.
Room 303.
No neighbors. Cheap rent. Silence.
He just wanted to escape everything — the sympathy, the whispers, the pain of losing his parents. All he wanted was to be alone.
But he wasn't.
That night, the clock struck 2:03 AM.
A chill crept into the room. The lights dimmed. The air turned still.
Then… she appeared.
She hovered above him — pale, floating, eyes dim with something darker than hate.
"You should've died… instead of me."
Her hands wrapped around his throat — cold, firm, final.
But Sion didn't resist.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice weak. "If someone hurt you... I hope they rot. But… you don't have to become them."
The pressure stopped.
The ghost blinked, stunned. No one had ever spoken to her like that.
That night, she disappeared.
But for the first time in years…
She didn't kill.