The moment I stumbled out of the Lady in White's space, my knees almost gave way. My lungs were tight, as if I were still choking on the smoke-filled air of her crossroads. My vision swam, the edges still soaked in that bone-white glow.
Before I could catch my breath, the two ghosts were already at each other.
"Pathetic," Aka Manto said, her voice curling like smoke behind me. "You didn't even use my abilities. Not once. I gave you power, and you practically handed her the win."
I took a slow breath. "You're exaggerating—"
"Exaggerating?"
Why do I have to deal with this?
"You let her toss you around like garbage because you wouldn't use my illusions, my knives—anything!"
The Lady in White's voice floated across her domain like drifting snow.
"Don't be foolish, Manto. Even if he used your parlor tricks, they would've evaporated instantly." She stepped closer to the edge of her sphere, her veil swaying. "The moment he entered my Corpse Garden, everything tied to spiritons was smothered."
Corpse Garden. I guess that's the name for those personal nightmare spaces.
"You're a ghost of bathrooms and school gossip," the Lady replied calmly. "I am a ghost born from a century of fear, grief, and bodies. Don't compare yourself to me."
Aka Manto lunged forward, her cloak snapping, but her sphere cracked and stopped her. She hissed like tearing paper.
The Lady's voice remained steady. "He doesn't need your childish illusions now that he has me. And I only used a fraction of my strength."
That must have stung.
I swallowed. "Speaking of abilities… what do I get from you?"
She tilted her head, her veil hiding her expression, but I sensed her smile.
"So eager," she whispered. "Very well."
She lifted her hand.
A single white thread spun from her fingertips, glowing softly with the weight of a hundred tragedies. When it drifted into my chest, I shuddered—my breath caught as if the world froze for a heartbeat.
Then it slammed into me.
A wave of sensations—blunt, raw, overwhelming. Fear. Sorrow. Anger. Not mine. Someone else's.
"Your first ability," she said gently. "Empathy. The power to sense and manipulate emotions. Force yours onto others. Overwhelm them. Break them."
I staggered. It felt like a second heartbeat was beating inside me.
"And the second," she continued, "is simply practical."
"Imagine walking but instantly arriving where you want to go."
My vision blurred—I stepped—and then reappeared several feet away.
Short-distance teleportation.
When I materialized, something slid across my shoulders. A cloak.
I looked down.
A flowing white cloak, and over my eyes, a half-formed black veil, just like hers—except flickering, unstable, unsure whether to stay or dissolve.
I felt colder. A little too calm.
A side effect of the transformation.
Aka Manto groaned loudly. "Oh perfect. My cloak but red. As if one wasn't enough."
The Lady in White's dome rippled with annoyance.
I rubbed my temples. "Both of you… chill. Please."
I forced myself to stand straight and bowed—awkward because my head felt heavy. "Thanks. For the power, I guess."
"Next time, fight me again. I'm not losing to this white woman."
"You already did," the Lady murmured.
They started again.
I stepped between them and raised my hands. "Okay, enough. I'm done for the night. I'm leaving."
Aka Manto crossed her arms. The Lady turned away.
I focused on my body—on that pull, that thread leading back to reality—and the world peeled open like a curtain.
The bathroom stall flickered out. The crossroads dissolved into mist. Both ghosts faded into the back of my mind, still glaring at each other.
"Goodnight," I muttered.
And just like that—
—I snapped back into my body.
Cold air filled my lungs. My heart hammered. My new outfit flickered around my shoulders before dissolving into spiritons.
I wiped sweat from my face.
When will I be free?