When Arya opened his eyes, he found himself lying in his bed. The familiar ceiling of his room and the faint hum of traffic outside the window made him pause, wondering what had just happened. Morning sunlight filtered softly through the half-closed curtains, its warmth oddly reassuring. But his body disagreed—pain pulsed through every muscle, especially his back and shoulders, as if he had endured something far heavier than any dream.
His phone alarm suddenly rang, shattering the morning silence. Arya reached for it on the bedside table, turning it off with stiff fingers. The screen showed the time—an hour left before his morning class. Normally, this would be the perfect moment to dive back under the blanket and steal some extra rest. But today felt different. A restless unease lingered in the air, refusing to let him relax.
He tried recalling what had happened the night before. It all felt like some wild dream—meeting a strange boy, battling a tree demon, the woman in the red dress saving Rika. Yet the soreness in his body was undeniable proof it hadn't been just a dream.
Then his gaze shifted to his desk. Something unusual caught his eye. Slowly, Arya walked over—and there it was. A single white jasmine lay upon the desk. Its petals were flawless, pristine as though plucked straight from a heavenly garden. Stranger still, it showed no signs of wilting, even though several days had passed since that night.
He picked up the flower carefully, rolling it between his fingers. No foul smell, no shriveled stem—still fresh, as if it had just been cut. Arya sighed and tucked it away into the drawer of his bookshelf. There was something unsettling about the flower, yet he couldn't bring himself to throw it away.
The following days passed in their usual monotony. Classes, assignments, the same routine. But the jasmine in his drawer lingered in his thoughts like a shadow. Every so often, he opened the drawer just to check—and every time he saw it, the same strange feeling returned. A reminder that what happened that night was no mere dream.
The jasmine, unfading and untouched by time, felt like a symbol. A sign that the boundary between the human world and the astral one hadn't truly closed. Arya knew, sooner or later, he'd be forced to face something far bigger than anything he could imagine.
That night, Arya's boarding house was as quiet as usual. Only the creaking of his old electric fan broke the silence. He was hunched over his laptop, struggling through the mountain of assignments piling up. Outside, the night was damp and cold—rain had been falling since the afternoon.
But the corridor outside Arya's room wasn't so peaceful. Some of the other tenants had grown uneasy. They claimed they often saw a strange girl wandering in front of Arya's door. The girl had long wavy orange hair, a pale face, and always kept her head lowered as if searching for something.
"It must be a ghost! I swear, when I went closer, she just vanished," whispered one of the neighbors nervously.
"Creepy as hell. Last night, I saw her standing outside room 308 for ages. I didn't even dare go to the bathroom," another added, still looking pale.
Arya, of course, knew nothing of the rumors spreading among his neighbors. Until that night—when one of the braver tenants knocked on his door.
Tok, tok, tok.
Arya opened it, puzzled. "What's up, Mas? It's late."
The neighbor swallowed hard. "Uh, Arya… I just wanted to ask. That girl who keeps hanging around your door… who is she? We've seen her a few times now. Pale face, orange hair… kinda like a modern version of Mbak Kun." He tried to joke, but his voice shook.
Arya frowned. "Girl? What girl? I've never invited anyone here."
The man only shrugged nervously and hurried away. Arya closed the door, but the words gnawed at him. A pale girl? Orange hair? Wandering in front of his door? He hesitated, then opened the door slightly and peeked out.
Sure enough, at the far end of the corridor, the rumored figure stood. She paced restlessly, back and forth in front of his room. Sometimes she turned toward his door as if wanting to enter, only to step back again.
With a deep breath, Arya stepped outside, stopping right in front of her."Rika! What the hell are you doing here, pacing like that?"
Rika jumped, startled, her already pale face turning even paler. "Eh! I… I was just… just—" she stammered.
"Just what? You know everyone here thinks you're some burglar—or worse, a ghost! You scared the hell out of my neighbors!" Arya scolded loudly.
Rika lowered her head, covering her face with both hands. "I… I didn't know they could see me…" she whispered weakly.
Arya groaned, rubbing his temples. "Rika, you can't just hang around like that. If you want to say something, say it directly! Don't creep people out like some hallway spirit."
Tears welled up in Rika's eyes. She looked at him with guilt, her lips trembling. "I'm sorry… I was just… lonely. I didn't know where else to go. I can't return to the other side because that scary gatekeeper keeps scolding me. So I came here… but I was afraid you'd kick me out if I went inside. That's why I just… wandered around."
Arya froze. He hadn't expected Rika to look so vulnerable. For a ghost, she looked painfully human in that moment—full of guilt and confusion.
He let out a long sigh. "Good grief, Rika… Next time, just talk to me. Don't act like some creepy hallway ornament."
Rika nodded sheepishly, her face still flushed. "I promise I won't wander around anymore… I'm sorry, Arya. I really didn't know where else to go."
Arya softened. "Alright, I'm not mad anymore. Just… try to think about other people's feelings too, okay? Now, if you want to talk, just come inside. But don't go making the place scary again."
Rika managed a small smile, the regret still visible in her eyes. She followed Arya inside his room. And for the first time, the lonely boarding house felt a little more alive—though in the company of a ghost who had finally found her place.