Morning light spills through the kitchen like warm water—soft, golden, too peaceful for how my life usually goes.
I blink awake properly this time.
The house is… empty.
Too empty.
No voices.
No footsteps.
No Ji-Ah shouting at someone for existing.
No Mom telling me I'm "irresponsible with breathing."
Just silence.
I sit up slowly.
"…hello?" I call out.
Nothing answers me.
I swing my legs off the bed and stand, rubbing my neck.
Still stiff.
Still annoying.
"Did everyone abandon me or something…" I mutter.
Then—
"BOO."
I jolt violently.
"—WHAT—!"
I spin around—
and of course.
Niran is standing right there.
Leaning slightly.
Smirking like he just won something.
"You screamed," he says immediately.
"I DID NOT."
"You did."
"That was—reflex breathing."
He laughs.
Loud.
Annoying.
I glare at him and walk toward the kitchen.
Because I already know—
that's where sanity lives.
And she's there.
Mrs. Hana
Moving like she never left.
The smell of food hits me instantly.
Tea.
Breakfast.
Comfort.
I don't think.
I just walk up and hug her.
"…you came back."
She smiles warmly, patting my head.
"Of course I did."
"Where were you? You didn't come for days."
"Family issues," she says gently. "My niece got into trouble at school… they couldn't reach her parents."
I nod slowly.
"…is she okay?"
"She will be."
I relax a little.
Then—
I hear it.
From behind me.
"That's a lie."
I freeze.
Of course it's him.
Niran.
I ignore it.
Mrs. Hana just keeps working, unaware of anything unusual.
She moves toward the counter and pours tea into my mug—cute fruit designs all over it.
She places it gently in front of me.
"Drink," she says softly. "And rest today. Tomorrow too."
I blink.
"…the whole week?"
She looks at me.
"Yes."
I open my mouth—
"No."
She smiles.
"Yes."
I sigh.
"…fine."
Then—
she suddenly pinches my cheek.
"Good boy."
"—HEY—!"
Behind me—
Niran laughs.
"Getting domesticated," he says. "Cute."
I turn slightly.
"Jealous?"
He tilts his head.
"Of what."
"No one pinches your cheeks."
Silence.
Then—
his expression flickers.
Just for a second.
"…why would I want that."
"Come here," I say instantly. "Let me try."
"NO."
"Come here."
"Don't touch me."
I reach out anyway.
He immediately steps back.
"Don't—don't—don't—"
I laugh.
He looks personally offended.
Then—
the doorbell rings.
Ding-dong.
Mrs. Hana pauses.
"Oh—someone's here," she says.
She turns to me.
"I'll get it."
I nod.
"Okay."
She walks out.
The kitchen is suddenly just me—
and Niran.
And silence.
He hasn't moved.
Still standing.
Watching everything.
I frown slightly.
"…you're being weird."
He doesn't answer.
Just looks toward the hallway.
Like he's listening to something I can't hear.
Then—
Mrs. Hana calls from the door.
"Min-Jun? Someone is here for you!"
I frown.
"Who?"
No answer.
I start to stand—
but before I can move—
I hear her voice again.
Confused.
"…are you talking to someone?"
I freeze.
Niran goes still.
Then casually—
"She can't see me," he mutters.
I stare at him.
"…right."
Mrs. Hana returns slowly.
Looking slightly confused.
She glances around the kitchen.
Then back at me.
"Who were you talking to?"
I pause.
"…no one."
Niran snorts quietly behind me.
She accepts it with a soft smile.
Then—
she sets the basket down on the table.
Not small.
Not random.
Perfectly arranged.
Sweets.
Chocolate.
Vanilla.
Strawberry desserts.
And something more delicate.
Homemade-looking.
Carefully packed.
I blink.
"…what is this?"
She smiles.
"A gift."
I step closer.
Niran moves beside me.
Quiet now.
Focused.
He reaches for a folded note inside the basket.
Carefully pulls it out.
Opens it.
The kitchen gets quieter without trying.
He reads.
Then his voice softens.
"…it's a get well note."
I look at him.
"From who?"
He hesitates.
Then—
"My family."
I blink.
"…Your family?"
He nods once.
Then starts translating.
Slow.
Clear.
"'Get well soon. Don't push yourself too hard. We're proud of you. Come home when you can.'"
I stare at the paper.
Something tightens in my chest.
Not painful.
Just… unfamiliar.
Warm.
Strange.
I swallow.
"…they're okay?"
He nods again.
"Yeah."
Then adds quietly—
"Very dramatic writing though. It's in our Language."
He showed it to me.
"It's Thai,"
I almost smile.
Almost.
Then I reach for the chocolate bar—
and immediately—
smack.
Mrs. Hana hits my hand.
"Ah-ah."
I freeze.
"…what."
"No sweets before breakfast."
I groan.
"That rule is illegal."
She smiles.
"Sweetie."
I sigh.
Behind me—
Niran immediately copies her tone.
"You heard her," he says, mockingly soft. "No sweets before breakfast, sweetie."
I turn slowly.
"…you're enjoying this too much."
"Yes."
I sit down anyway.
Defeated.
Mrs. Hana starts serving breakfast properly.
Then—
Niran leans slightly toward the basket again.
Holding up a small dessert.
"…this one," he says, pointing. "This is Thai Dessert."
I tilt my head.
"How do you know?"
He shrugs.
"Because I know. How could I not know?"
Then he names it.
"Kanom krok."
I blink.
"…what does it taste like?"
He pauses.
Then—
"Sweet. Coconut. Soft inside."
I stare at him.
"You're just describing everything as 'sweet' again."
"It is sweet."
I huff.
Then he picks up another one.
"That one—favourite."
"What is it?"
"Strawberry custard roll."
I narrow my eyes.
"You're making that up."
"I'm not."
He taps it lightly.
"Your favourite type of annoying sugar."
I roll my eyes.
But I take a bite anyway.
It's good.
Annoyingly good.
The kitchen falls into a slow calm after that.
Mrs. Hana moves around softly.
Niran stands near the counter again.
Watching.
Quiet now.
Not teasing.
Not laughing.
Just… observing.
And I notice—
he doesn't touch the basket again.
Doesn't take anything.
Just looks at it.
Like it's heavier than it should be.
Like it means something I don't fully see yet.
But I don't ask.
Not yet.
I just eat.
And let the morning stay quiet.
The kitchen feels too calm for the kind of life I'm living.
Sunlight hits the counter.
Lunch boxes are lined up perfectly—five of them—neat, careful, like someone actually has their life together.
Mrs. Hana closes the last lid and wipes her hands.
I lean against the counter, unwrapping chocolate.
Of course.
"Take Ara's to her," I say casually.
She turns.
"No."
Immediate.
Firm.
I blink.
"…I'm fine."
"No."
"I can walk."
"No."
"I won't fall."
"No."
I sigh.
She sighs louder.
Then softens just a little.
"Rest," she says. "Be careful."
And before I can argue again—
she's already walking out.
Door closes.
Silence.
—
I take a bite of chocolate.
Slow.
Sweet.
Then—
I feel it.
That stare.
I glance sideways.
Niran is leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching me like I'm personally exhausting.
He sighs.
Deep.
Long.
Dramatic.
"…you should send me somewhere," he says.
I blink.
"…what?"
"Or tell me to do something."
I stare at him.
Suspicious.
"Why."
His expression shifts.
Not teasing.
Not playful.
Just… honest.
"Because I caused that fall."
The chocolate stops halfway to my mouth.
"I possessed you," he continues. "And the fight—got out of control."
Silence.
I look at him properly now.
He doesn't look away.
"…anything?" I ask slowly.
He nods once.
"Anything."
I swallow.
Then—
a slow smirk spreads across my face.
"Okay."
He immediately regrets it.
I can see it.
"Carry me to the living room," I say, pointing lazily, "and bring my chocolate with you."
Silence.
Then—
"…I said anything," he says slowly, "not babysitting."
"You broke your promise."
"I didn't—"
"You did."
He exhales.
Long.
Painful.
Annoyed.
Then—
"Fine."
Before I can react—
I'm suddenly lifted.
"—WAIT—"
His arm slides under me like it's nothing.
I blink down at him.
"…wow."
He adjusts his grip.
"…you're heavier than you look."
"EXCUSE ME?"
"I'm stating facts."
I laugh.
"That's rude."
"You asked for this."
He grabs the chocolate with his other hand like he's done this before.
We move.
And honestly—
this is embarrassing.
"Put me down," I say, laughing.
"No."
"You're enjoying this."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I regret everything."
He drops me onto the couch.
Not harsh.
Just… intentional.
Then hands me my chocolate.
I take it like I earned it.
"…thank you."
"Don't thank me."
He sits beside me.
Close.
Too close.
But neither of us moves.
Silence settles.
Then—
"…do you remember anything?" I ask.
He knows what I mean.
"The fall."
He looks ahead.
"…no."
I nod.
"But I know it's between two people now," he adds.
"Lalita… or Seo-Yeon."
I stare at him.
"…do you still like her?"
He doesn't hesitate.
"Yes."
I turn slowly.
"…after she pushed me?"
He shrugs.
"That's complicated."
"That's insane."
"That's honest."
I stare at him.
Offended.
Then—
my phone rings.
Sharp.
Loud.
I look down.
Lalita.
Of course.
I glance at him.
He nods.
"Pick up."
I sigh.
"…hello?"
"Meet me," she says.
Straight.
Cold.
I hesitate.
Then—
"…okay."
I hang up.
Silence again.
Then—
he stands.
Grabs my wrist.
"Let's go."
I blink.
"Wait—what—"
"You said anything."
Oh.
No.
My brain catches up too late.
"—NO."
"Yes."
"You can't use that now—"
"I am."
He pulls.
I resist.
Hard.
"NO."
"Yes."
"This is not what I meant!"
"You weren't specific."
I yank my hand free—
and run.
Straight out of the living room.
"GET BACK HERE—"
"No!"
I turn the corner—
and slam right into him.
I freeze.
He's right in front of me.
Of course he is.
Ghost.
Right.
I spin—
run the other way.
"Stop running."
"No!"
I reach the hallway—
he appears again.
Right in front of me.
Arms crossed.
Unamused.
I stop so fast I almost fall.
"This is cheating."
"This is efficiency."
I try to dodge—
he steps into my path again.
"Move."
"No."
"Move."
"No."
I groan.
Turn again—
run toward the stairs.
He appears at the bottom.
Waiting.
I skid to a stop.
Breathing a little heavier now.
My hair falling into my eyes.
Annoying.
Messy.
"…you're abusing ghost powers," I mutter.
"You're avoiding basic hygiene."
"I showered yesterday."
"You fought for your life yesterday."
"That's unrelated."
"It's very related."
I try one last move—
fake left—
run right—
He appears right there again.
I walk straight into him this time.
"—ow—"
"You're done?"
"No."
"Yes."
He grabs my wrist again.
Firm.
Not rough.
Just… not letting go.
"Bathroom," he says.
"I don't want to."
"Too bad."
"I didn't mean anything."
"You did."
"I take it back."
"I don't."
He drags me.
I try to resist—
fail again.
"Save me," I mutter dramatically. "Someone save me."
"No one is coming."
"This is tragic."
"This is necessary."
He pushes the bathroom door open.
I grab the frame.
Last attempt.
"…I hate you."
He leans in slightly.
Too close.
"Get in."
I stare at him.
Then sigh.
Defeated.
Hair still falling into my eyes.
Chocolate still in my hand.
Dignity—
gone.
"…fine."
And I step inside.
Because somehow—
arguing with him is worse than losing.