---

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.