For the next few days, Laž’ar returns to the so-called haunted mansion to visit Çetžak every evening.

When he returns today, there is light shining from a window on the second floor, and he can vaguely make out a silhouette in the window.

He can’t help but smile.

Most of the mansion isn’t in use, but a housekeeper must come a few times a week to keep the place clean. Çetžak’s parents don’t seem to really care, because Laž’ar hasn’t seen even a hint of them.

Having a busy mother who works nights, it’s not like he doesn’t get it can be hard. So, as long as he’s home before something like four in the morning, his mother would never know he wasn’t at home when he was supposed to.

Even if she found out, she wouldn’t really say anything.

He walks through the iron gate with no reservation, but instead of the main entrance, he walks to a side door. It doesn’t have the lavishness of the main entrance. 

Çetžak showed him it’s faster to get to his living “quarter”, as he called it.

Sometimes Çetžak speaks a bit strangely. This occasional odd phrase, or that word Laž’ar has never heard a living person say before but has read once or twice in literary class.

But that’s all right! Laž’ar understands him, and he figures Çetžak’s parents must be pretty rich, so it might be, like, an… upper-upper class thing?

Çetžak doesn’t seem like some rich brat otherwise, so Laž’ar likes him a lot.

“Good evening.”

Laž’ar jumps and looks behind him. Çetžak stands a few steps away from the door. Where did he come from?!

“Hi, hello, good evening!” Only after he finishes speaking does Laž’ar realise he actually whispered from the scare.

“Did I frighten you?”

“You sneak up on me like that, of course, I’d get a little surprised! Don’t just tip-toe over to say hello behind me while we’re in darkness.”

Çetžak smiles softly and closes the distance. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, Laž’ar thinks that he should probably feel threatened by Çetžak looming over him like this, yet his far stronger thought is that Çetžak is pretty good-looking.

The moonlight makes his pale skin look almost translucent, and the entire person otherworldly. That’s one-of-a-kind handsomeness you don’t see every day! Laž’ar is certain about this.

“It is almost All Soul’s Day.”

For a moment, Laž’ar can’t keep up. “All souls…? Oh, yes! Halloween! That’s tomorrow!”

“All Soul’s Day is two days after.”

“I see! I didn’t know that. That’s my birthday, by the way!”

“So you were born during Allhallowtide.”

“That seems to be the case?” Laž’ar laughs. “Maybe that means I’d attract ghosts if they were real?”

“Perhaps that could be the case, but who knows?”

“Never mind that. Are you free tomorrow? Ret and Khanuk are coming over for a film marathon.”

“I have no plans.”

“Why don’t you come over?”

Çetžak thinks for a moment, then nods. “If Laž’ar will not be bothered by my presence, please do not mind if I do.”

Laž’ar tsks. “Why would I invite you if I’d get bothered?”

Çetžak raises his hand. It’s cold as it brushes against Laž’ar’s cheek. He pats Laž’ar’s head, stroking his hair in a friendly manner. “Some would be bothered even if they invited me. Especially if they invited me.”

“That’s silly!”

Çetžak retracts his hand and looks toward the gate. “How about we take a walk today?”

Laž’ar nods. His phone shouldn’t shut down at random then.

As the sun sinks below the horizon, Çetžak watches Laž’ar open the gate again. He glances back at the mansion.

He hasn’t left the grounds of his home for so very long. He no longer remembers why, but he had no reason to until now. He also doesn’t want to confine Laž’ar to the mansion, so stepping outside makes sense. Besides, if he no longer knew why he ought to remain, why would he remain in the first place?

Laž’ar must notice his pause because they look at him curiously.

“I made sure the lights were off,” he explained. “They are.”

“Oh! That’s good! You use candles a lot, so it could be bad if you left them burning.”

Çetžak smiles as he steps through the gate and enters the light of the outside. The lamps are blinding, and he raises his hand to shield his eyes.

“These are brighter than candles. Must be annoying going outside in the evening and get blinded every time.”

“I mostly stay at home in the evenings.”

Laž’ar hums. “Do you have a curfew?”

Çetžak needs a moment to think. “I do. But there is time left before then. Do you?”

Laž’ar laughs a little. “Technically, I do. But no one’s at home, so I can stay out past then.”

“Why do you live alone?”

Çetžak feels worried. Laž’ar shouldn’t be alone. He deserves people to care for them and serve them like the child of a monarch.

“I don’t. My mother works nights, so she’s not home until early morning. Nothing stranger than that.”

“I see.”

He’s still not at ease. He says nothing about it.

The two of them go down the street, side by side. Whenever dogs or cats notice them, they bark, whine, or hiss.

This confuses Laž’ar. “I wonder what’s wrong with them.”

“Perhaps they have things to say,” he glares at a dog, which backs off with a whine, “but no one to understand them.”

Laž’ar looks at Çetžak. “Do you have something to say?”

He can’t bear it when Laž’ar looks so genuinely concerned. “I have many things to say, but few are important.”

“Everything you want to say is important. Even if it isn’t to anyone else, it is to me.”

There’s a mischievous look in Laž’ar’s eyes, and he speaks in a flippant manner, but Çetžak can only see the corners of Laž’ar’s mouth moving up without true teasing.

He averts his eyes, tacitly accepting Laž’ar’s words.

Not too far from the mansion, there’s a park. Because Çetžak told Laž’ar to pick their destination, this is where they go.

He thought of something else first, but the dogs barking at them changed his mind. If they had to deal with animals like that, finding a more secluded location would be better.

The light of the park is dim and spooky, without many lamp posts. He believes Çetžak would enjoy this better as he keeps the lights at the mansion dim. Sometimes it’s like the candles are exhausted and wish for a holiday.

So perhaps Çetžak prefers somewhere without the city street lights.

Çetžak looks around. “Is this park new?”

Laž’ar laughs. “If you consider twenty, thirty years new?”

“So not quite, then?”

“No.” Laž’ar’s confused. “Haven’t you been here before?”

“I have not explored the area around the mansion. I can get everything I need there.”

“You should go out more.”

Çetžak looks at Laž’ar with a soft — almost fond — expression. “I will go anywhere you bring me.”

This tickles Laž’ar’s mischievous heart. He needs to tease him.

As he smiles, his eyes turn crescent, his impishness on full display.

“What if I bring you to hell?”

“I would gladly go with you, nonetheless.”

Laž’ar doesn’t expect this response, and he is stunned into silence.

After an awkward silence, he asks tentatively, “What about heaven?”

Çetžak pauses, visibly troubled. “If heaven does not let me in, then I will still follow you, even if it is by force.”

Laž’ar feels there’s something very off with that statement, but he can’t say what part doesn’t feel strange to hear, so he can’t tell what’s wrong.

Perhaps it’s nothing.

They fall into silence after this, mindlessly walking. It’s decorated by the people living nearby. There are a few pumpkins here, some skulls there. Spiders and webs hang off leafless branches, and someone had hung a skeleton up in one. It almost looks like it hung itself.

Laž’ar is startled when he sees this. The skeleton wears clothes, so at first glance, it doesn’t look like another decoration. But when looking closer at it, and daring to touch it, it’s really just plastic.

It’s then he realises Çetžak’s looking at it intensely. Not with fear but something else.

Whatever it is, it doesn’t concern Laž’ar.

They walk for a little over an hour, and they exit at the other end of the park.

Laž’ar sees the flickering light of a vending machine which sells drinks and snacks.

“Wait here!”

He goes over to it, and after thinking for a while, he buys a couple of drinks. Bottles in hand, he returns to Çetžak, who studies him as if he’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

Perhaps he’d been too cooped up, and right now someone friendly who doesn’t think his house is haunted is the most fascinating — what does Laž’ar know?

He motions toward a bench. “How about we go sit there for a while?”

“It is cold. Sitting may not be suitable.”

Laž’ar considers this. “There’s a bridge over the pond. Wanna go there then?”

“If you wish to go there, then I will gladly follow.”

Laž’ar shakes his head with a silent laugh, then walks back to the small bridge together with Çetžak.

He holds up the bottles while leaning against the railing.

“Which one would you want?”

Çetžak studies them both, then points. “This one.”

Laž’ar hands the pumpkin tea-flavoured drink to him, but Çetžak doesn’t take it. After an awkward moment, he places it on the railing next to Çetžak. He now holds a blood-red raspberry-strawberry drink.

He opens it and takes a taste.

Not bad.

He drinks a third of it right away.

It’s strange, but he started feeling incredibly thirsty ever since they left the mansion. Maybe he didn’t drink enough while at home? That must be it.

Feeling better, he asks, “So what do you usually do?”

“Read. Play chess with myself.”

“Oh, so that chess game is yours?”

Çetžak nods. “I rarely have an opponent, so I have grown accustomed to playing by myself. Some of the games take months because I wait between each move.”

“Teach me some time. I won’t be great, but it should be better than playing by yourself, right?”

Çetžak smiles again. Moonlight hits him, illuminating him in a way that makes it look like he might disperse into smoke.

Well, that’s a ridiculous thought.

“If you desire to indulge me in such a way, then I can only humbly accept you as my student.”

“This student humbly requests my teacher not to be too harsh on me. I’m not a strategist.”

“I would never be harsh on you, Laž’ar.” 

Laž’ar empties the bottle and drops it into the bin near the bridge.

“I like spending time with you, you know—” 

He turns back to Çetžak who still stands on the bridge. Perhaps it’s a bit foggy and perhaps Laž’ar’s tired, because Çetžak really does look hazy to him.

He approaches him as he speaks. “It’s getting a little late. I should go home.”

Çetžak nods. “That sounds good. I will walk you to where we need to part.”

Laž’ar notices Çetžak hasn’t touched the drink. No matter. He bought it without considering what Çetžak might like. He takes the bottle, receiving an apologetic smile from Çetžak in return.

“All right.” Laž’ar smiles. “Let’s go.”

They’re not far from the mansion, but the route back is a little longer. Çetžak follows Laž’ar anywhere he goes — until they stop.

“My bus stop’s over there,” they point forward, “the mansion’s that way.” They point to the right now.

Çetžak nods.

“So we’ll have to split here, but we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

He doesn’t want to leave Laž’ar. Not now. Not anytime.

Why should he go back? What’s there to see, when Laž’ar gives him so much more, even during brief moments?

Çetžak nods once more. “Of course.”

Laž’ar smiles brightly. “And on my birthday!”

Çetžak nods yet again. “Naturally.”

“Great! I’ll see you then. Bye!”

Çetžak watches Laž’ar as they wave to him, then turn. They hurry away, not turning again.

Çetžak doesn’t look away once.

He doesn’t want Laž’ar to leave.

Çetžak doesn’t want to leave Laž’ar.

He doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t.

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.

The door opens up into a large space. Khanuk, walking in front, lights up the flash on his phone to use as a torch once more.

Laž’ar notices Retnüir wants to do the same.

While Retnüir checks his own phone, Laž’ar holds onto his sleeve tightly, looking around. He glances occasionally at the other two. Using the darkness as his cover, he opens his bag. He presses the power button on his phone. Holds it. Taps shutdown.

“Does it work?” His voice is nearly a whisper, but it seems very loud in the silence nonetheless.

Retnüir humphs and stuffs his phone back into his pocket, but Laž’ar knows already.

He barely has any battery left, and, practical as he is, Retnüir keeps what battery he has left.

“Use your phone as a torch too,” Retnüir spits out.

Khanuk turns to look at them. He’s inside the hall.

Laž’ar takes out his phone and puts his finger against the sensor, then tries to shake it to life. He frowns.

“It’s dead. Ret, it was fully charged. Do you think it’s the ghosts?”

“You just left the ticket app on the entire way.” The words sound more choked-up than sharp.

Perhaps Khanuk was right. Ghosts are indeed something his found big brother can’t handle.

“Oh… Probably?”

He feels Retnüir relax a little.

“Come on, you two.” Khanuk actually laughs. “You better stay close to me.”

Laž’ar changes from holding Retnüir’s sleeve to holding his arm, half pushing, half hiding behind him.

What’s the fun in this if he doesn’t play a little frightened?

Even though they half tip-toe, their steps echo. This fascinates Laž’ar quite a bit, and he looks around, trying to see past the limited light of the one makeshift torch.

Yet he can only see a few metres away from Khanuk, who also shadows some light, and Retnüir and Laž’ar are mostly walking in the darkness.

The entrance opens up to a hall, and the three children walk through the large open space. They have some kind of light with them, illuminating some paces of what’s in front of them.

They stop every so often to look at some things hidden beneath the sheets of fabric standing to the side; a smaller sculpture, a vase, a glass case with jewellery.

Step by step, they approach the staircase.

They stop in front of it.

Çetžak continues to watch them. He’s still lurking in the shadows of the balcony. It seems they believe his mansion is haunted.

So far, he has noticed nothing indicating this is the case.

“Should we go up the stairs?” the oldest asks.

“There’s so much to check out,” the youngest responds. Their voice sounds strained, but he knows.

He knows this one is an imp in human skin. A fae folk disguised as a human. Luring the two boys into his mansion. For what purpose, he can’t say.

Whether it’s curiosity or something else, he can’t stop looking at them, following their every move with his eyes.

“Let’s not go up the stairs,” says the one the youngest holds onto. “What if the stairs are rotten?”

The oldest places a foot on the stairs, trying his weight, then kicks the step.

“I don’t think they’re made of wood, Retty.”

Even Çetžak can hear there’s a teasing laugh playing in his voice.

“I’m sure there’s some wood,” the one called Retty sputters.

The youngest chuckles. “Khanuk,” they point toward their left, “let’s go over there.”

The one called Khanuk looks in that direction and shines the peculiar torch that way. Çetžak hasn’t gone there in a long while. It’s where the kitchen and servants’ quarters are, and he doesn’t need to go there. He seldom went when he was younger, either.

He watches them as they leave the reception hall, only stepping out of the shadows when he no longer sees the light from their torch.

They find their way to the kitchen. There’s nothing of interest here, aside from some empty, smaller rooms. They also find a staircase going down to the basement. Laž’ar does his best to persuade Retnüir to go down, but even Khanuk says it seems too dangerous.

He’s aware.

The problem is that exploring an empty mansion is only so much fun for so long when done this way. After they’ve checked out cupboards and whatnot, surely disturbing all the sleeping critters, he’s too bored to keep up with the farce.

He yawns and looks around to find something else to do. Retnüir doesn’t notice that he lets go while he’s scolding Khanuk for the fifth or sixth time about opening every little cabinet and drawer. He takes out his phone and silently sneaks away to explore on his own.

He really wanted to go upstairs when Khanuk mentioned it, but he knew he couldn’t push for it then.

Once he’s alone, however, that’s not a problem. No one else is making choices for him.

He doesn’t struggle to find his way back, with his phone offering him light.

He stops in front of a mirror covered in cloth. Although it’s barely visible, he can see a reflection veiled by the protective fabric.

He pauses.

Looking around, he realises…

There’s no dust.

So someone regularly cleans the place.

For a brief moment, he considers going back to Khanuk and Retnüir to tell them that there might be someone who’ll be furious at them because the place isn’t as abandoned as it may seem.

His heart suddenly jumps. Turning around, he sees nothing. The lights of his phone and the covered mirror, together with the pretence of being scared, are clearly playing tricks on his mind now.

He looks back at the mirror, and there’s really only him. He closes his eyes and lets out a tense breath.

He rolls his eyes.

How easily affected he is. He knows very well that ghosts aren’t real, so getting worked up about some moving light is ridiculous when he’s the one holding the light.

Why does he need to be scared? He doesn’t. So he isn’t.

Easy.

The hazy reflection looks back at him. He hears voices echoing from the distance. He feels goosebumps run up his arms.

Okay, maybe he’s actually a teeny tiny bit scared.

It is dark and foreign, and the mirror is a little creepy, isn’t it? Retnüir and Khanuk’s distorted voices make it feel like it’s not just him standing there.

Well, he’ll just focus on what he wants to explore.

Yeah. Good idea. Perfect, even.

He leaves the creepy mirror, looking back at it several times, but without the bright light of his phone’s flash, he can only see the shape created by the fabric covering it. Almost like he shouldn’t have been able to see his own reflection.

He swallows and takes two steps at a time up the stairs.

As he explores the upper floor, his steps echo throughout the hall.

Or…

He stops.

The steps stop.

He walks again.

The echoes begin again.

He looks behind him.

Yeah, it’s just the echo.

He turns around.

A pair of black eyes stare at him from the shadow.

He nearly screams.

Only a moment later — before his voice leaves his lips — light catches the eyes.

It’s just a bear’s head.

A whimper still escapes him. He did scare himself half to death just now, so he can’t quite blame himself for making the embarrassing noise.

But hadn’t he got so worked up over some echoes, of course, he wouldn’t have felt his heart in his throat.

A laugh echoes, and he nearly startles himself again. He checks the time and considers if he should call Khanuk and say he wants to go back home.

Lights seem to flicker.

No.

Lights do flicker. Behind him.

There’s also the sound of soft steps.

When he listens, he realises the voices can’t be heard, but there’s definitely someone else’s breath.

Oh, great. Khanuk is playing with him now. If not Khanuk, it could be Retnüir. Don’t brothers retaliate? Laž’ar doesn’t have any brothers, but he thinks Retnüir wouldn’t leave it at something one-sided if he found out.

Laž’ar continues to look at his phone, his body tensing, ready for either of his friends to say something.

They don’t.

The steps stop behind him. The breathing’s incredibly faint. Almost as if it would stop at any moment.

With his gaze lowered, he can see lights play on the floor. It doesn’t seem to be from a phone.

Laž’ar swallows his heart back into his chest. His eyes dart to the upper corner of his phone.

Strange.

Heart slamming within his ribcage, he looks up. The pair of glass eyes of a bear staring at him seem like they could become alive.

Laž’ar inhales. His breath quivers.

A voice he has never heard before speaks: “Good evening.”

Laž’ar looks over his shoulder.

Even when prepared to see someone, he takes several startled steps backward.

He doesn’t know why they came or how they entered, but a group of children — Can he call them children? They don’t look any younger than he does. — a group of children has seemingly decided to visit him.

It’s been a while since he met outsiders, so, feeling a little awkward, he stays on the upper floor, observing them as they walk into the mansion.

There are three of them. The oldest one is leading them. It doesn’t matter if it’s because of his hair or a certain twinkle in the oldest’s eyes he catches, but he finds him frivolous.

The other two walk behind him.

One of them is restlessly tapping his folding fan against his palm. He’s frowning, like they had dragged him along against his will. They probably had.

The last one holds onto their friend. Whenever each of their friends turns to them, they put on a pitiful expression, but they look around in curiosity when they think no one else is watching.

But he sees it all from where he’s standing on the balcony, shrouded in darkness.

A few hours earlier at Zuladiar High School.

When Retnüir leaves the classroom, his eye twitches. Never mind that the lazy kid Laž’ar is sitting on that bench opposite Retnüir’s locker, Khanuk is as well. Khanuk, who graduated from the school when Laž’ar was still in middle school.

Khanuk is smiling as he talks with an arm on the back of the bench, half turned to Laž’ar. He doesn’t seem to care that Laž’ar is leaning slightly away and making himself smaller.

Retnüir walks over to them and lets his textbook fall heavily on Khanuk’s hand, startling Laž’ar into jumping off the bench.

“Retnüir!” Khanuk laughs. “Why so mad? Not enough coffee?”

“How old are you even?” Retnüir sneers back.

“I was telling li’l Laž here about something — are you in?”

Retnüir sweeps his gaze from Khanuk sitting in front of him to Laž’ar now standing next to him. The previously scared kid has a twinkle of excitement in his eyes, and Retnüir gives up on these two the moment Laž’ar opens his mouth.

“Ret, it’ll be fun!”

“I don’t care how much fun it might be. Go back to class, Laž’ar.”

“Reeeeettt!” Laž’ar whines, tugging at Retnüir’s sleeve. “Please!”

Retnüir sighs and knocks Laž’ar on the forehead with a knuckle. Even though he knows it didn’t actually hurt, Laž’ar’s hand shoots to his forehead while he frowns.

“We can do it after our classes.” Retnüir turns to Khanuk. “Right?”

“Wouldn’t even try to get our Retty to miss class. Evening is the best time for it, anyway.”

“Well, you should also go to class, O Greatest Khanuk. I know you’ve got a lecture, not time hanging around us half-adults.”

Khanuk laughs. “You’re gonna love this, Retnüir!”

After they all finish for the day, Khanuk brings the other two teens along with him to the bus. They board it.

When arriving at the stop, Laž’ar grabs hold of Retnüir’s sleeve as they leave the bus stop. There aren’t all that many street lights here, and one of them flickers while giving off a click and a buzz every time it goes on or off.

It reminds him of horror flicks.

If Laž’ar didn’t think this would be too fun to pass up, he would have gone home already, because, although Retnüir only ever chides him, he could get vicious while scolding Khanuk, and that was not fun.

And Retnüir’s already losing his patience with Khanuk’s antics.

“Here we are!”

Khanuk announces their arrival out of nowhere, standing between two dead streetlights. Laž’ar needs to squint because it’s so dark that Khanuk half-melts into the shadows.

It takes him a moment to realise Khanuk stands in front of a gate and, behind it, a large mansion. Naked branches rise above the hedge, which is taller than a full-grown man. He assumes the leaves are scattered in an overgrown garden.

He hums softly in curiosity.

Khanuk had told him they would go somewhere spooky, a place that locals felt might be haunted, and there had been more than one sighting. Apparently, Retnüir claims not to be afraid of ghosts, and Laž’ar had thus timidly said he found ghosts “super exciting”.

Truth be told, he doesn’t even believe they exist.

This is just an old mansion. What ghosts could there be other than rats and some stray cats?

However, he has never been in a mansion before and definitely not an old one, so — ghosts or no ghosts — he’s going to see if he could explore a little.

Khanuk waves to Laž’ar, who lets go of Retnüir and runs up to the iron gate.

“Khanuk, are there really ghosts here? I want to see them!”

“You bet there are at least two or three!”

A tsk comes from behind Laž’ar. He turns to see Retnüir already holding the fan that he always carries with him. It’s a sign he’s enduring his lost patience. Each tap’s like the ticking of a bomb unless Retnüir finds a proper outlet for his irritation.

Laž’ar hurries over to him and pulls at his sleeve, purposely looking as pitiful as he can. “Ret, you’re not coming?” He tugs the sleeve a couple of times while pouting.

He knows it’s childish, but…

“Fine, I’m coming,” Retnüir sighs.

Mission accomplished.

Laž’ar knew this would convince Retnüir. Tried and tested on this big brother.

“Li’l Laž,” Khanuk says, “check if you can open the gate?”

Laž’ar nods enthusiastically and runs back to check out the iron gate.

“It better open. I’m not breaking and entering anywhere. Got that, Khanuk?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. No breaking and entering.”

Laž’ar taps the heavy padlock. “I don’t know lockpicking.”

Khanuk turns around, then gets his phone out of his pocket, using the flash as a torch. “Look at that. I guess we’re not breaking and entering then.”

Laž’ar takes hold of the lock, feeling very disappointed.

Maybe the lock is too rusty because the moment Laž’ar lets go…

CLANG!

…the lock drops to the sidewalk, clearly not useful in keeping them out anymore.

All three of them startle at this sound. Laž’ar actually backs up so much that he can hide behind Retnüir.

Khanuk laughs at him. “Are you a cat?”

“I’m not.” Laž’ar’s voice quivers slightly.

“We can leave, if you’re afraid,” Retnüir consoles him.

Laž’ar peeks up at the other teen’s face and sees a slightly tense expression. He holds the folding fan so tight that it lets out a small “crack”.

Well, then.

“Ret, you’re so mean. I’m, I’m not scared! Are you s-s-scared, Ret?”

Retnüir’s hand tightens around his fan. “I’m not. Let’s get this stupid thing over with.”

A loud crash wakes him up, and Çetžak sits up in his bed with a start.

With silent steps, he leaves his bedroom and walks to a window that oversees the front yard. There seem to be some people outside the property. Well, it doesn’t concern him. They can’t get inside, anyway.

Awake now, Çetžak moves over to the study to continue a game of chess against himself. He thinks about his next move for a little while.

He picks up a piece.

Knock, knock.

He startles at the sound and drops the piece with a clatter.

Branches may occasionally knock and scrape on the windows, and this he’s so very used to. It lulls him to sleep and wakes him up later in a cycle as days pass. Weeks. Months. Years.

Knock, knock, knock!

But this is different. He hasn’t had many guests lately, and he also doesn’t invite anyone, but he wouldn’t mistake this sound.

When he reaches the window, he can see the gate to the property is open. Not all that much, but enough for him to see it with the dim light of the outside.

How did that happen?

The paved path up to the building has been slightly disturbed.

There are some muffled voices, but, as the visitors are standing under the eaves below, he can’t see them. It may have been difficult to see them even if there had been nothing to shield them, because this far in, the light is nothing to speak of.

A gust of wind covers up the tracks, making it seem like no one passed through, while the hinges of the door downstairs whine as the door itself creaks.

He turns away from the window and the desolate garden outside. He listens to hesitant footsteps echo while he walks to the balcony on the second floor, studying the curious outsiders below.