— Shadows Stirring —
A few minutes later, a soft knock sounded at the door.
A man stepped inside.
Neatly parted hair.
Metal-rimmed glasses.
A practiced smile—polite, professional, carefully worn.
Julian.
The bar's manager.
"You called for me, boss?"
His eyes moved quickly, sweeping the room—faces, posture, distance—cataloging without appearing to stare.
Jasper rushed through the introductions, words tripping over one another. "This is Mr. Ryan, my cousin Selene, and this is—"
"Miss Bella?" Julian finished smoothly.
His gaze lingered for a heartbeat too long before he nodded. "The lady of the house."
The room went quiet.
Not the comfortable kind.
The air itself seemed to pause, as if listening.
I didn't waste time.
"Has anything unusual been happening here?"
Julian adjusted his glasses.
The motion was small, habitual—yet his fingers trembled just enough to notice.
"Yes."
Jasper shot upright. "Yes?! Why didn't you tell me?"
Julian's smile tightened at the corners. "You didn't give me a moment to explain."
He drew a slow breath, then let it out. "When it started, I thought it was nothing. Late nights. Long shifts."
"I would see someone standing by the second-floor railing, looking down at the hall."
His eyes flicked briefly toward Bella.
"I assumed it was her—checking on things."
Bella didn't react.
She only listened.
"But then," Julian continued, "there were more."
The word settled heavily in the room.
"They didn't drink. Didn't speak.
They just stayed."
The temperature dropped by a fraction.
"Guests started noticing," he went on. "Shadows near the sinks. Faucets turning on by themselves. Doors opening to empty rooms."
Selene covered her mouth, color draining from her face—
just like before, when something unseen had been watching her.
Jasper glanced at Bella, as if hoping—pleading—that she would deny it.
But even he knew now.
This wasn't about her.
Julian swallowed.
"The worst was last week. Around two-thirty."
His voice lowered.
"A server heard a woman singing in the room next door. Soft. Clear. Close."
"She opened the door—nothing.
Closed it—the singing returned."
He paused.
"She quit the next day."
A breath passed.
"She wasn't alone."
Jasper's voice cracked. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Julian looked down. "I feared you wouldn't believe me."
I nodded once.
"Anything else?"
Julian hesitated.
"A couple in the third-floor suite," he said slowly. "The man woke fully conscious—but unable to move."
What people call ghost pressure.
"He heard a low humming. Continuous. Right next to his ear."
Julian didn't look at Bella this time.
"The woman woke too."
He stopped.
"They left that night."
The room felt heavier—as if something unseen had leaned closer.
The lights dimmed, just slightly.
From deep within the walls came a faint vibration—steady, low—
like breath moving through something hollow.
I scanned the room.
Julian—tense, but holding himself together.
Jasper—exposed, shaken.
Selene—barely breathing.
Bella—silent.
Listening.
This wasn't random.
— What Drew Them —
Jasper sank onto the sofa, his hands buried deep in his hair.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "If I hadn't—"
"No." Jasper looked up.
"This isn't on you," he said, forcing the words out. "You didn't choose this."
Then his voice wavered.
"Mr. Ryan... you have to help me."
I raised a hand, stopping him before panic could take root.
"Before anything else," I said, "we need to understand why they're here."
Jasper swallowed. "Could it be... feng shui?"
I let my gaze move slowly through the room.
"The land is new. No recorded deaths. No lingering residue." "Feng shui alone doesn't explain this."
I paused.
"They're following something."
Bella stiffened at once.
"I followed it too," she said quietly. "It felt... warm."
"This place amplifies presence," I replied. "Living or dead."
I thought back to the moment I'd first stepped inside.
"The sensation you noticed when you entered," I added. "It wasn't new."
Jasper's hands clenched. "Then... how do we stop it?"
"Not yet," I said. "First, we need answers."
"Where it's strongest." "And what it actually is."
— Between Life and Death —
I checked the time.
9:00 PM.
The tension made even the smallest movement feel deliberate, as though the room itself were paying attention.
"We should eat," I said at last.
Bella lingered near the doorway, her outline faint against the warm spill of light.
"Come with us," I added.
She glanced at Jasper, uncertainty flickering across her face.
He swallowed, then nodded. "...Alright."
A fleeting smile touched her lips—so brief it almost felt borrowed.
At the table, Jasper ordered out of habit. Four meals.
"Three," I corrected gently. "She can't eat."
I paused, then added, "Incense instead. And half a cup of clear tea."
Jasper nodded and relayed the order without question.
When the incense was lit, the smoke rose slowly, curling through the air. It mingled with the warmth of the room, and Bella's form seemed to steady—as if something unseen had given her permission to remain.
She watched us quietly.
After a long moment, she spoke, almost to herself.
"So this is what it feels like... to be with friends." "Even if I can't eat—just being here... feels right."
Selene's chest tightened. "Then these next few days, you can stay with us—"
Before she could finish, Jasper's hand shot out beneath the table. Not hard. Just enough to remind her of reality.
Bella felt it anyway.
Her form trembled, as though a sudden breeze might scatter her.
"It's alright," she murmured. "The living and the dead walk different paths." "We can never truly be together."
I couldn't let that settle.
"Don't," I said quietly. "All things have spirit." "With sincere intent, human and ghost... can still be friends."
"Really?"
Her head snapped up. For an instant, a near-desperate light filled her eyes.
She turned to Jasper. "Then... can I be with Jasper?"
The air froze.
The lights stretched into long white lines across her pupils. No one spoke.
The light in her eyes dimmed as quickly as it had appeared.
She bowed her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm dreaming again."
The meal passed in a subdued rhythm.
Afterward, Jasper drove Selene home first.
Then me.
The night pressed in—heavy, unmoving.
Above us, countless stars hung in silence, like the myriad eyes Julian had described, watching patiently from the space between life and death.