The morning sun over Nolite's college campus hung pale and washed-out, like light filtered through grimy glass. Ethan trudged across the courtyard, backpack slung low, his energy even lower. Laughter and caffeine-fueled chatter swirled around him, but he clutched only a half-eaten donut and a scowl. College, he decided, needed a snooze button.
He slipped into the lecture hall and sank into his usual back-row seat. Chairs scraped, voices rose, and the burnt-coffee stench of the room clung to the air.
"Morning, Ethan," chirped Lina, bright and infuriatingly cheerful for eight a.m. "You look like someone dug you up for attendance."
"My soul's still buffering," he muttered.
Beside her sat their ragtag crew—or the closest thing he had to friends after months of shared classes and group-project survival. Mira, eyes glued to her sketchbook; Hazel, whose glasses magnified her calm, piercing stare; and Ray, who somehow looked asleep while upright.
They weren't tight, but they were his.
The lecture began, Professor Nolan's monotone droning over slides about field methodologies and safety protocols. Ethan doodled in his notebook, half-listening, until one sentence sliced through the haze.
"…and for the midterm module," Nolan announced, "we'll conduct a supervised field trip this weekend. Location: Mistwood region."
The room stirred. Trip was a magic word, cutting through exhaustion like a shot of espresso.
Nolan pressed on. "You'll work in groups of five. Assignments are on the board."
Groans and murmurs rippled as students shuffled forward. Ethan dragged himself up, weaving through the crowd. When he found his name, his groan was the loudest.
Group 7: Ethan Graves, Lina Torres, Mira Kim, Hazel Braun, Ray Temple.
Lina squealed beside him. "We're together! This is gonna be so fun."
Ethan stared blankly. "Yeah. Fun. That's definitely the word."
Hazel adjusted her glasses. "Field trips are mandatory. Less fun, more do-or-fail."
"Motivating," Ethan deadpanned.
Later, as they spilled out of the building, Lina swung her bag over her shoulder. "We should plan everything before the weekend."
"Good call," Ray mumbled, clearly dreaming of a nap.
"Where?" Mira asked, snapping her sketchbook shut with a cautious edge.
Lina's face lit up. "Ethan's place!"
He froze mid-step. "My what?"
"Come on! You've got that big, creepy dorm house. Perfect for a group huddle. We'll split food costs, pack gear, make a plan—"
"No," Ethan cut in, shaking his head like he could physically reject the idea. "My place is cursed. The wallpaper screams sometimes."
Ray smirked. "That's just plumbing, man."
"It's evil with acoustics," Ethan snapped.
But Lina's enthusiasm was a tidal wave. She clasped her hands dramatically. "Ethan, please. You'll save us from the nightmare of campus group work."
Hazel's calculating gaze pinned him. "Four people are easier to exorcise than one."
Mira shrugged. "I'll bring snacks."
Ethan sighed, defeated. "Fine. But if anyone dies, I'm not filling out the report."
By late afternoon, classes ended, and Nolite's sky bled gold. The group lingered in the courtyard one last time.
"Tomorrow evening?" Lina clapped her hands. "At Ethan's haunted funhouse?"
Ethan muttered something about it being neither fun nor a house, but no one caught it.
"Don't worry," Hazel teased. "We'll bring garlic and holy water—just in case."
"That stuff stains," Ethan warned.
They laughed, waving as they scattered.
Ethan trudged home under a darkening sky, the weight of his decision trailing like a second shadow. Nolite's narrow streets dimmed, fog curling between iron lampposts. His house loomed ahead—too still, too quiet, like it was holding its breath.
Inside, Kaori sat at the table, polishing her sword with slow, deliberate strokes.
"You look like bad news," she said without glancing up.
"They're coming here," Ethan said flatly.
Her eyes flicked up, narrowing. "Who?"
"My classmates. For… trip planning." He sighed. "Democracy's a curse too."
Kaori set the sword aside, her expression unreadable. "More people means more noise."
"Exactly."
"Then the house might wake up."
Ethan frowned. "You say that like it's a good thing."
Kaori's smile was small, knowing. "Depends on what wakes first."
He stared a beat too long, then looked away, rubbing his neck. "I already regret this."
"Then it's the start of something interesting," she said softly.
Outside, the wind rose, scraping faint whispers against the windows. Shadows leaned closer, listening.
Ethan didn't notice.
Tomorrow, his haunted home would host guests—and the house would have something new to play with.