The morning light slipped softly through the curtains of the staff dormitory, painting the walls in pale gold.
For most interns, it was a fresh start.
For Serene Caelis, it felt like judgment day.
She stared at the embossed note lying on her desk, perfectly folded, impossibly intimidating.
To: Miss Serene Caelis
From: Office of Mr. Lucien Vale
Subject: Evaluation Interview — 12:00 PM Sharp.
Twelve o'clock. Sharp.
That single word had the emotional temperature of a guillotine. Serene sipped her tea and whispered to herself, "It's fine. It's a routine interview. Completely fine. You only… talked to a wall three times yesterday."
A soft chuckle drifted from the window.
"More like five."
Serene didn't look up. "Good morning, Leo."
Leo, the ghostly bellboy, floated casually near her curtain, polishing an invisible badge on his translucent uniform.
"You've got quite the reputation already. The other interns think you're some kind of undercover inspector."
Serene folded the note, voice calm. "Better that than being known as the girl who lectures air."
"You're meeting the big boss today?"
"Yes."
"He's terrifying, isn't he?"
"Professional," she corrected gently.
"Professionally terrifying."
Serene sighed, smoothing her blazer. "If I lose this internship, I'm haunting you first."
"Sweetheart, I've been dead since 1959. You'll have to wait in line."
By ten o'clock, she was in the staff corridor, clipboard in hand, reviewing her morning assignments. Her plan was simple: finish the guest reports before noon, stay invisible, and enter that meeting looking like she belonged in a recruitment brochure.
Unfortunately, invisibility was a skill the dead didn't respect.
As she passed the east elevator, a translucent woman appeared beside her. Glamorous, glowing faintly in a sparkling gown that belonged on an old movie poster.
"Darling, can you press the penthouse button for me?" the ghost asked dramatically.
Serene froze. The living staff nearby couldn't see a thing.
"I died before digital elevators," the ghost sighed. "Now they've replaced buttons with touch screens. Touch! Imagine expecting ghosts to have fingerprints!"
Serene stepped politely aside. "The penthouse isn't open to visitors, ma'am."
"But I'm not a visitor. I lived there!"
"I'm sure you did. You still can, in spirit."
The ghost blinked, then clapped slowly, impressed.
"Sharp tongue. You're new."
"Yes."
"Good luck with Mr. Vale. He's too serious. Never smiles. It's tragic."
The elevator chimed open. Serene slipped inside quickly.
"Thank you for the unsolicited advice, ma'am."
"You're welcome, dear. And tell him from me, he really should redecorate."
The elevator doors closed, cutting off the faint laugh that echoed through the hall.
When she reached the reception floor, she found the third one, an older man sitting cross-legged near the concierge desk, reading a ghostly newspaper. His suit was neat, his shoes invisible.
"Morning, miss," he greeted, lowering the paper. "Do you know if they still serve the cinnamon coffee here?"
Serene kept her tone polite. "I believe it's been discontinued."
"Ah. Another reason not to be alive."
She blinked. "That's a… perspective."
The ghost shrugged. "Don't look so tense. You're meeting the boss, right?"
"How did you know?"
"Word travels fast in the afterlife. Especially gossip about handsome billionaires."
Serene smiled despite herself. "He's my superior, not a headline."
"Every woman says that at first."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She sighed softly, straightened her blazer again, and bowed slightly. "Please excuse me. I have an evaluation to prepare for."
"Good luck, young lady. And if you see the chef ghost in the west wing, tell him I still want my breakfast."
Serene walked away, hiding a laugh. For someone who'd spent her whole life surrounded by the dead, she was beginning to suspect they were far more alive than most people.
By eleven-thirty, she stood before the mirrored doors of the top-floor executive wing. The glass shimmered, revealing a view of the sea stretching into endless blue.
Her reflection looked calm, but her heart had begun an unapproved drum solo.
Leo reappeared beside her, adjusting his cap.
"You look fine. Don't worry."
"Easy for you to say," she murmured. "You can't get fired."
"True. But you can haunt him later if he's mean."
"I'd rather keep my job."
"Optimism. Cute."
A passing employee gave her an odd glance. She straightened immediately, bowing politely as if greeting no one in particular.
Leo grinned.
"You've mastered the polite-to-nothing look."
"Years of practice."
At exactly 11:55, her watch buzzed softly.
Five minutes early. Punctual, professional, collected. She took a deep breath and whispered, "Please, all of you, stay out of this one."
A faint chorus of unseen voices replied,
"No promises."
She knocked on the glass door.
"Come in," a voice answered, deep, smooth, and steady.
And there he was.
Lucien Vale sat behind a minimalist desk, sleek and modern, framed by floor-to-ceiling glass walls that overlooked the ocean. Sunlight spilled across polished surfaces. Pale stone, silver trim, a single abstract painting that probably cost more than her education.
He was even more composed up close. Black suit, white shirt, no tie, effortless authority.
When he looked up, the air seemed to sharpen just slightly.
"Miss Caelis."
"Good afternoon, sir." She bowed lightly.
"Please, have a seat."
She did, posture perfect.
He studied her for a moment. "You're punctual."
"I prefer not to keep people waiting."
"Efficient."
"I try, sir."
He nodded slightly, then opened the file on his desk, her profile and a short report.
"Your supervisors speak well of your professionalism. But they've also noted something… unusual."
Serene's palms pressed lightly against her knees. "Unusual?"
Lucien's gaze didn't waver. "You appear to hold frequent… one-sided conversations. In public areas."
Ah. That.
Her mind raced. Do I tell him the truth? That I can see ghosts and occasionally need to negotiate hallway space with them? Or do I go with mild eccentricity?
"Sir," she began carefully, "I tend to think aloud while organizing schedules. It helps me focus."
Lucien tilted his head. "Out loud enough to bow and smile at walls?"
She met his eyes. "Sometimes the walls need encouragement."
His expression barely changed but the faintest flicker of amusement touched his mouth.
Serene sat straighter. "I understand that my behavior may have appeared odd, sir. I assure you it won't affect my performance."
Lucien leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "Odd doesn't necessarily mean unfit. But I prefer to know why."
The conversation was professional, polite, but there was warmth under his tone, subtle and unexpected. He wasn't mocking her. He was… curious.
Before she could respond, something cold brushed the back of her neck.
Oh no.
Leo's voice whispered urgently,
"He's got such nice furniture! Ask if I can borrow a pen."
Serene's eyes twitched. She didn't react.
Lucien frowned. "Is something wrong?"
She smiled tightly. "Just… a breeze, sir."
He glanced toward the sealed glass walls. "We're forty stories up. There shouldn't be one."
"Then perhaps it's excellent ventilation."
He raised a brow but said nothing.
The bellboy ghost floated behind Lucien's chair, poking at his monitor.
"Touchscreen! Wow! You could open a whole haunted tech company!"
Serene clenched her jaw. "Leo," she whispered under her breath before she could stop herself.
Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly. "Leo?"
"Layout," she said quickly. "The—uh—office layout is… very efficient."
His lips pressed together, the hint of a suppressed laugh flickering there before he schooled his features again.
"Thank you," he said, voice polite. "I designed it myself."
Wonderful, Serene thought. Now he thinks I compliment furniture mid-sentence.
Before the silence stretched, a second ghost drifted through the glass wall, the glamorous actress from the elevator, still glowing faintly.
"Ah, there you are, dear! Did you tell him to smile yet?"
Serene sat perfectly still.
"No? Oh, I'll do it then."
Serene's polite expression froze.
"Mr. Vale!" the ghost sang dramatically, standing directly beside his desk. "You should smile more. It softens your face!"
Lucien frowned slightly, unaware of the glowing woman beside him. "Miss Caelis?"
Serene blinked rapidly. "Sorry, sir. I—uh—agree. Smiling is good. For hospitality morale."
Now he blinked. Then, to her utter disbelief, he smiled faintly, that composed, unreadable, effortless smile that made half the resort gossip about him.
"Duly noted," he said.
The ghost clapped her hands. "Oh, he did! He's handsome! I approve."
Serene wanted to sink into the floor.
Leo drifted toward the window, chuckling.
"You've got talent, kid. Making the boss smile in ten minutes flat."
Serene breathed through her nose. Patience. Grace. Don't lose composure.
Lucien, meanwhile, studied her calmly. He couldn't figure her out, elegant posture, unflappable tone, and the occasional moment where her eyes flickered to empty space as if addressing invisible colleagues.
It wasn't insanity. It was… something else.
Finally, he closed her file and said, "You're meticulous. I appreciate that. I'll be assigning you to Guest Relations. You'll report directly to the department head starting tomorrow."
Relief swept through her so visibly that Lucien almost smiled again.
"Thank you, sir."
"One more thing," he said. "Whatever it is you talk to… make sure it doesn't interrupt guests."
Serene froze for half a heartbeat then smiled politely. "Understood, sir."
He nodded once. "Good. Dismissed."
She bowed slightly, turned, and left the room with quiet poise.
As the glass doors closed behind her, Lucien exhaled softly, staring at the reflection of the sea.
He didn't believe in ghosts.
But Miss Serene Caelis made him question what exactly she was communicating with, because in all his years of running this empire, no one had ever managed to make his office feel that… alive.