Morning at Ethereal Shore Resort began with the whisper of waves and the hush of expensive silence.
Serene Caelis walked through the staff corridor, tablet in hand, ready for her second day in Guest Relations, perfectly calm on the outside, mildly terrified inside.
Leo, of course, ruined the calm within ten seconds.
"You're trending again," he said, floating beside her like gossip with legs.
"I'm what?"
"Trending. The interns are whispering about you. Apparently you 'soothed a haunted suite with grace and poise.'"
"I handled a faulty thermostat," she said firmly.
"And a ghost with opinions about eggs."
Serene ignored him. "I'm here to work, Leo. Not trend."
"Tell that to the guy with the clipboard. He's been talking about you all morning."
"Who—"
Before she could finish, Ms. Vierra appeared from the hallway, heels clicking like punctuation. "Miss Caelis, Mr. Vale requests you in the main office. Immediately."
Serene blinked. "Mr. Vale?"
"Yes," Vierra said, smoothing her jacket. "He's overseeing today's VIP inspection personally. You're assigned as his liaison."
Leo whistled. "Ooooh, work date."
Serene's tone stayed professional. "Understood, ma'am."
She turned to Leo with a look that could curdle milk. "Stay invisible."
"Invisible is my middle name," he said proudly then immediately vanished halfway through a wall.
Lucien Vale's office was sunlight and symmetry with clean glass, ocean light, one line away from intimidating.
He was already standing when Serene entered. His jacket hung over the chair, sleeves rolled with surgical precision, tie absent. Casual by his standards, terrifying by anyone else's.
"Miss Caelis," he greeted.
"Good morning, sir."
"I trust you slept?"
"Yes, sir."
"Excellent. You'll assist me today."
"Yes, sir—wait, assist?"
He handed her a tablet with a schedule. "The resort is hosting a VIP guest from the Lyric Bay Tourism Board. He'll be reviewing our facilities and suites. I intend to handle it personally."
"And I'm…"
"You're my staff liaison," Lucien said simply. "You observe, take notes, and ensure the hospitality protocol remains visible. Ms. Vierra recommended you."
Serene blinked once, twice. "I'm honored, sir."
Lucien's lips quirked faintly. "Don't be. It's work."
He turned and strode toward the door. "Come along."
She followed, notebook in hand, professionalism wrapped like armor around her calm face.
The visiting board official was a cheerful man named Mr. Grayson, silver-haired and gregarious, the kind of person who praised everything and still somehow made staff sweat.
"I've heard glowing things about this resort, Mr. Vale," Grayson said as they stepped into the elevator. "Even the air feels expensive."
Lucien smiled with polite restraint. "We try."
Serene stood behind them, nodding, checking the itinerary.
Breakfast review — Lobby Café.
Pool area — 10:30.
Terrace suite inspection — 11:00.
She could handle this. Maybe.
Leo's whisper snuck in beside her ear. "If you faint, faint elegantly."
"Not now," she muttered under her breath.
Lucien turned slightly. "Did you say something?"
She blinked. "Just confirming the terrace suite is ready, sir."
He nodded. "Good. That's the most important stop."
She exhaled quietly. Saved.
The café glowed in morning light with marble, greenery, and glass.
Grayson praised everything from the croissants to the sea breeze.
"This is paradise, Vale," he said between bites. "Your staff are impeccable."
Lucien inclined his head. "We aim for consistency."
"Hard to manage in a property this large. How do you keep everyone so alert?"
Serene, beside him, offered gently, "We serve espresso stronger than emotions, sir."
Grayson laughed. "Good answer!"
Lucien's eyes flicked to her, faint amusement there, quickly hidden.
When they moved to the pool area, Serene handed towels to guests and managed a spontaneous water-spill incident with graceful calm. Grayson clapped. "Brilliant service, Miss Caelis. Efficient!"
Lucien said nothing but there was quiet satisfaction in his glance.
"You're killing it," Leo whispered invisibly from the diving board. "Metaphorically. No hauntings yet."
"Please don't jinx it," she murmured.
"Talking to yourself again?" Grayson teased lightly.
Serene smiled. "Just thinking about towel inventory, sir."
Lucien almost smiled again. Almost.
At 11:00, the entourage arrived at Suite 1201, one of the VIP terrace suites. The morning sun painted the sea in gold, the air perfectly crisp.
Grayson walked out onto the wide terrace and sighed. "Magnificent! Look at that view! You can practically hear the ocean."
Everyone paused.
They could hear something. But it wasn't the ocean.
It was… humming.
A low, nostalgic tune drifting from nowhere in particular.
Serene froze.
Leo's whisper floated past. "Oh no. He's back."
"Who's back?" she murmured.
"The owner."
Lucien turned slightly. "Something wrong, Miss Caelis?"
She smiled automatically. "Not at all, sir. Just… enjoying the music."
Grayson looked around. "Music? You play something through the speakers?"
Lucien frowned. "We don't have audio systems in this suite."
Before anyone could answer, a figure stepped through the terrace railing as casually as one might exit an elevator, a distinguished man in a white linen suit and panama hat, translucent as sea fog.
"I say," the ghost announced, inspecting the view. "Still magnificent, isn't it? I built this terrace myself."
Serene closed her eyes briefly. "Not now."
"What's that?"
"Ah—nothing, sir," she said to Lucien.
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "You're pale."
"Just… sunscreen deficiency."
"Sunscreen!" the ghost scoffed. "In my day we called it character."
Serene kept her smile fixed. "Indeed."
Lucien frowned. "Indeed?"
"Indeed, the—uh—terrace has wonderful character, sir."
Grayson clapped. "It does! The architecture! Classic yet modern!"
The ghost puffed up proudly.
"See? The living still admire my design sense."
Serene sighed through her nose. "They certainly do, Mr…?"
"Mr. Pembroke," he said grandly. "Founder and original owner of this property. I return now and then to ensure standards haven't collapsed."
Serene murmured under her breath, "Your standards are haunting our VIP review."
"You're welcome."
Lucien and Grayson stepped inside to check amenities. Serene lingered a second, whispering fast.
"Mr. Pembroke, I appreciate your commitment, but could you perhaps admire silently?"
"Impossible. The lighting's all wrong. Who replaced my sconces?"
"I don't know, sir."
"They've cheapened the brass finish. I'm appalled."
"I'll file a complaint on your behalf," she said calmly.
"Excellent! I demand they fix it within the century."
"I'll expedite it."
"Splendid girl."
By the time she joined Lucien and Grayson, the ghost had thankfully vanished, muttering about sconces.
Lucien turned as she entered. "All good?"
"Perfectly, sir."
Grayson raised his champagne glass. "Five stars from me. This terrace alone deserves a poem."
Lucien nodded once. "We'll consider that a success."
Serene exhaled in relief.
Back in the elevator, Grayson beamed. "Mr. Vale, I'm impressed. Your resort is flawless. You've earned a stellar review."
"Thank you," Lucien said politely.
Grayson shook Serene's hand. "And your intern here has remarkable composure. The next generation of hospitality."
"Thank you, sir," she said, flushing slightly.
When the VIP left, the elevator doors closed, leaving silence and faint sea light reflecting in Lucien's gaze.
"You handled yourself well," he said finally.
"Thank you, sir."
"Even during… unusual circumstances."
Serene hesitated. "Unusual, sir?"
He looked at her evenly. "You were holding a conversation on the terrace. With no one."
Her pulse stuttered. "Ah. I was rehearsing the guest description aloud. Helps me memorize layout details."
Lucien's brow arched. "You seem to rehearse often."
"I believe in preparation."
He considered that, then said mildly, "Whatever the method, it's effective. Keep it within guest-friendly parameters."
"Yes, sir."
The elevator chimed open.
"Miss Caelis," he said before she stepped out.
"Yes?"
"Your sunscreen excuse was terrible."
She blinked, caught off guard then saw the faintest smirk tug at his mouth.
Her composure cracked just enough to laugh softly. "I'll prepare better next time."
"Do," he said. "Dismissed."
By sunset, the resort glowed gold against the water. Serene sat at her desk, filing the final report.
VIP Review: Positive.
Complaints: None.
Anomalies: Unconfirmed.
Leo floated above her shoulder, reading.
"Anomalies: Unconfirmed. You're practically fluent in cover-ups."
"I call it professionalism."
"You call it pretending ghosts don't exist while they narrate your life."
The diva ghost appeared beside him, twirling her invisible pearls.
"You and the CEO looked rather photogenic today, dear. Very magazine spread: 'Haunted Luxury and the Calm Intern.'"
"Please don't start rumors among the dead."
"Too late," Leo said. "Mr. Pembroke's already bragging he made you blush."
Serene pinched the bridge of her nose. "Wonderful."
But despite herself, she smiled.
Somewhere above, Lucien's office light flicked off. He lingered by the window, gaze on the horizon.
He didn't know why the resort felt… different lately it's quieter, easier, as if some invisible current had shifted.
Maybe it was coincidence. Or maybe it was her.
He checked his reflection, caught the faint trace of a smile, and shook his head. "Focus, Vale," he muttered. "She's an intern, not an oracle."
Outside, the sea shimmered like a secret only the living and the dead could share.