---

Çetžak watches the little imp bump into the wall behind them. This startles them further and they drop their illumination device. There’s a loud thud as the rectangularly shaped thing hits the floor. Its light dies.

The imp’s chest is heaving up and down in heavy breaths. They don’t pick up the device but cling to the wall as if it would keep them afloat while drowning.

He had hoped speaking up would put them more at ease. Yet he gave them a worse fright instead.

He doesn’t like the other two but this imp… He is curious.

“I did not mean to scare you.”

The imp forces a laugh. “I’m, I’m not scared. A little surprised. Yeah. Surprised. Just a little, though.”

Çetžak bends down and picks up the illumination device. He holds it out to the imp.

“You have my sincerest apologies for startling you.”

The imp gives the device a sceptical look, then takes it from him. They examine it and frown.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, nothing.” The imp holds up the device for Çetžak to see. There was a large fracture down the sheet of glass, splitting it into nearly two equally sized halves, a web of smaller fissures blooming from the centre. “The screen broke, is all.”

“‘Tis my fault.”

The imp chuckles. “I dropped it. I’m clumsy sometimes. Anyway,” the imp puts the illumination device away, “why are you here?”

Çetžak stares at the imp.

“This is my home,” he eventually replies.

“Your… You live here? Fuck. We didn’t know anyone actually lived here.”

“I seldom have guests over. Perhaps that is why people believe this mansion to be haunted.”

“Ah, yeah, maybe? But what about all the covered furniture?”

“I do not use them,” Çetžak explained, then motioned slightly. “I only need very few rooms, as I live here by myself.”

“By… yourself? Damn, that’s gotta be lonely.”

Çetžak pauses to think. Was it lonely? He hadn’t thought about it in a good while.

“I have become used to it.” He turns to look at a painting on the wall. “Once one spends enough time by oneself, one forgets about others.”

“That’s just tragic.”

Çetžak looks back at this imp. “Then… would you mind keeping me some company?”

---

Laž’ar follows the so-called “ghost” of the mansion. Now that he’s not scared — No, not scared. Surprised. — he’s able to take in his appearance. His black hair falls in waves halfway down his back, and the white loose shirt and dark trousers he wears look more expensive than Laž’ar’s washed-out jeans and oversized hoodie.

And he doesn’t look remotely like a ghost.

Besides, he had picked up Laž’ar’s phone, so — although the candle he holds casts some odd shadows sometimes that make it look like Laž’ar vaguely can see through him — he’s clearly solid.

Even if ghosts do exist, when had he ever heard of a ghost with a physical body?

Exactly never.

The ghost opens a door for Laž’ar.

“This is my study. You will have to excuse the mess. I did not expect visitors.”

“Oh, don’t mind it.”

Laž’ar steps into the study.

It has a large collection of books that all look ancient with brown spines. There’s a heavy wooden desk facing away from the view of the garden. Laž’ar can see the centre of the city not that far away, its apartment complexes reaching toward the sky in the last rays of the setting sun.

A chess game in progress is on a small side table, but there are no chairs to sit down on. On the wall above it hangs a small selection of sabres and daggers, many of them of gorgeous designs. He can’t believe they were ever meant to be used to cut anything.

When he turns to speak to the “ghost”, he sees a large portrait. It looks straight ahead, above him, into the distant city beyond the hedge.

“Wooooow!” Laž’ar looks between the “ghost” standing at the doorway to the study and the portrait next to the oak door. “How much did you spend on this? Is it painted? Did they use paints to make it look old, or do you have some ancestor who looks this much like you?”

“‘Tis indeed me,” the “ghost” responds. “I did not order it, though, and do not know the specifics. It was my father’s request when I was fifteen, I believe.”

Laž’ar studies the portrait with great interest. “And how old are you now?”

The “ghost” is silent for a moment.

“My last birthday was my seventeenth.”

“Oh! We’re really close in age!” Laž’ar grins. “My sixteenth birthday’s right around the corner. Right after Halloween, really.”

“I was born in the summer, apparently.”

Laž’ar frowns momentarily but doesn’t ask.

“If you have nothing going on in a few days, you can come over when I celebrate my birthday. I don’t mind. Me and some friends will just hang out, so I don’t think they’d mind. Oh…” Laž’ar smiles sheepishly. “…but perhaps you don’t want to spend time with any of us intruders?”

“You seem like pleasant company. However, I would only be available in the evening.”

“No problem! We got school, too, so we can’t do anything during the day, anyway.”

The “ghost” nods.

“It may be somewhat belated now, but my name is Çetžak, if you do not mind me telling you. May I know yours?”

“Laž’ar. You know ‘elegance’ or ‘elegant’ or something in that ancient language. Ret — the scaredy-cat downstairs — always makes fun of me for not being elegant enough for my name.”

“I am inclined to disagree. I think you have innate charm and elegance, Laž’ar.”

Laž’ar chuckles. “Now you’re just flattering me!”

“Laž’ar.”

“Yeah?”

“I simply felt like saying it. It is quite a nice name. I hope you do not mind.”

Laž’ar huffs a laugh. “Go on, say it again.”

“Laž’ar.”

It sounds like Çetžak tasted the name. As if he tries it out, both familiar and unfamiliar with it.

What an odd guy.

---

Çetžak watches as Laž’ar looks further around the study.  They are very curious, and once they took out their device, but put it back into their bag with a frown almost right away. They touch nothing without explicitly asking for permission. He appreciates the consideration because most things in his study are indeed very old. Not everything is.

Laž’ar, for instance, isn’t old, although they’re not a thing either.

The two of them pass time like this until they hear an old grandfather clock in the mansion go off, the nine chimes indicating it’s already getting late.

“Oh…”

Laž’ar looks a little disappointed.

Çetžak’s amused by how frightened they had been before, but how none of that remains now.

“Your friends surely wonder where you went.”

Laž’ar hums in agreement.

“I do not mind if you come by another day. I am always available in the evenings.”

“I suppose I can come by tomorrow then? You shouldn’t be lonely all the time.”

Çetžak smiles. “I will not be able to be lonely if you offer me your company. I would not mind if the only one I meet is you for the rest of eternity.”

Laž’ar huffs in playful anger. “You shouldn’t say things like that! It would be boring if you met no one else.”

Çetžak turns to the door without responding. After opening it for Laž’ar to leave, he only says, “Take the light with you. I have more candles I can light if the need arises.”

---

“Laž’ar!”

Khanuk’s shout echoes through the mansion. Retnüir’s something between furious and frightened, not daring to leave Khanuk’s side but also unwilling to stay near him.

“Laž—”

“So loud.”

Startled, the two of them look up. They hadn’t seen there was a balcony shrouded in the deep shadows right above the hall from where they entered.

A figure stands there now, looking down at them. Khanuk almost jumps when Retnüir grabs onto him in fright.

The figure walks closer to the railing, their features becoming clearer.

It’s only when the figure is almost next to it that Khanuk sees it’s none other than their missing Laž’ar.

“What are you doing there?! Come down now! What are you running off on your own for?”

Retnüir’s voice is a little shaky, but it’s impossible to say if it’s fear or anger. It doesn’t matter. Laž’ar turns to walk down the stairs.

“You’re so noisy. You disturb people by shouting like that.”

A candle lights up his way, and he’s holding his phone in his other hand.

The phone, which supposedly doesn’t have any battery, suddenly lights up, and Khanuk sees a hideous crack that goes nearly straight down the middle. When it vibrates, Laž’ar looks down at his hand, and a soft “huh” leaves him.

For some reason, this scares Khanuk more than anything else tonight.

“Where… where did you get the candle from?”

“Upstairs. It’s cleaner there. The furniture isn’t covered either.”

Khanuk feels Retnüir tense up. “Aren’t we trespassing?” he asks.

“Really, Retty? Obviously. Let’s just go home.”

“It’s fine,” Laž’ar says, then blows out the candle. He lifts the cover off a side table and places the holder down. “The owners aren’t home, anyway. I don’t think they’ll find out.”

Something sounds very off with this, but Khanuk doesn’t dwell on it. He grabs Laž’ar by the wrist and pulls him along, leaving with long strides.