Chapter 4
I froze on the spot. I couldn’t even move a finger.
“Holy sht…”*
Anyone would react the same way. Who in their right mind could stay calm after witnessing a full-blown poltergeist phenomenon? Maybe 1% of humanity, at most. And unfortunately, I was not part of that 1%.
My mind went completely blank.
There wasn’t a single place in or outside the room that felt safe.
Sure, I’d tiptoed around the room before, glancing here and there. But I swear on my life, this was the first time I’d ever seen something so utterly insane.
Technically, they were ghosts, and I—having possessed a body that wasn’t mine—was a ghost too, right? Shouldn’t there be, like, a “same species privilege” or something?
Pointless thoughts like that flickered through my head, but I forced myself to focus. Here…
“It’s all bluffing. If I want to survive, I have to put on an act.”
A baseless fear gripped me—that if I showed even a shred of fear, the ghosts would devour me whole. I had to say something.
Steadying my trembling gaze, I looked at the objects still rattling violently around the room, at the things outside, at those unseen stares drilling into me. Then, feigning absolute calm, I spoke in an icy tone, as though none of it fazed me.
Not too cowardly, not too stupid.
“Alright, enough already. Keep it down. You’re noisy.”
The words came out curt—so curt my heart thudded nervously.
But the effect was far greater than I expected.
Not only did the rattling inside the room stop, but even the knocking sounds from outside went silent.
…Which was even scarier.
That meant they were all listening to my voice right now. Please, mind your own business, focus on ghost things, and leave me out of it. Just think of me as some dumb human, okay?
Inside, I was shaking like a leaf, but I sat on the bed with forced composure, trying to look dignified. Truthfully, my legs would’ve given out if I kept standing. Putting on a calm face, I continued:
“I don’t know much about this mansion. Honestly, I don’t really feel the need to leave either.”
A lie.
I really didn’t know anything, and I hadn’t dared step outside this room out of sheer terror. But the truth was, the need to escape this cursed mansion was overwhelming.
Everything about this place screamed wrong. An ordinary human like me, with no special powers, would be doomed if I stepped out recklessly. Information was key to survival. But if I admitted I wanted it, wouldn’t the ghosts toy with me? That’s why I held back.
I tried to keep smiling as I spoke again:
“You all know, don’t you? I haven’t been here very long. You’re aware of that, right?”
The ghosts gave no reaction. Were they even listening? If I asked Are you listening? they’d probably answer by rattling something again, which was even worse. So no, I wouldn’t ask.
I forced my trembling body to keep up the act, plastered a smile, and went on:
“And you know I don’t care much for noise. Don’t you? Unless…”
I paused, almost tripping over my own words.
“…Unless you knew I hated noise, and you did it anyway.”
It felt like I was performing some grand stage play.
I recalled the reflection I’d seen in the mirror—the face of “Ellie.” I tried to project that image: cool, aloof, unafraid. To show them I was not someone who could be scared.
This body, Ellie, had pale blond hair and equally pale, lavender-colored eyes. From my private study these past few days, I’d noticed: usually her features looked fragile. But…
“Yes?”
When her eyes narrowed, her expression turned unexpectedly sharp. Remembering that, I deliberately narrowed my eyes and smiled.
The ghosts stayed silent. I grew uneasy. Maybe they weren’t listening at all? I needed confirmation—but I didn’t have the courage to face another crazy poltergeist stunt. So instead:
“Unlike you, I’m a delicate human. Each knock you make can be annoying at times. Surely… you know that.”
And here came the gamble.
“That’s why I actually liked Charlie and Mary’s way of writing letters. It wasn’t face-to-face, and though it wasn’t ideal, at least I could enjoy the handwriting. And it wasn’t noisy.”
Letters.
It had to be letters.
Earlier, when my stomach was full, I thought I couldn’t keep writing notes with ghosts forever—that I needed a decisive confrontation. But after experiencing a poltergeist firsthand? I’d take letters any day.
At first, letters had arrived via the mailbox inside the room. But once I’d realized the presence of ghosts, the letters started appearing directly on my desk.
What did that mean?
If I didn’t insist on this method now, they might switch to poltergeist antics again to communicate. And I would rather die than relive that nightmare.
“Writing in the air would be fine too. What do you think—”
Before I finished:
[Sure!]
[What’s your real name?]
[I admire you. This is amazing!]
[I’m Charlie. It’s my first time talking like this.]
“….”
For a second, I wondered if I’d accidentally opened a YouT*be livestream. Words scrawled rapidly across the air, so many layered over each other they became illegible. I quickly snapped:
“One at a time. Two people max. Do I really need to spell this out?”
The… “ghost chatroom” quieted slightly.
Then, from atop the cupboard, a doll’s head rolled off with a clunk. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest, but before long, words reappeared in the air:
[I won. It’s Mary, Ellie.]
[I’m Charlie.]
“You two again.”
So there were tons of ghosts here, huh. And among them, Charlie Charlie and Bloody Mary were especially strong. No wonder—the doll’s head falling off was probably them fighting over who got to speak first. Clearly, they didn’t settle it with something peaceful like rock-paper-scissors.
“Well, whatever. Familiar faces are always welcome.”
I tried to act casual. But then it hit me: hadn’t they already seen me freaking out before? Bloody Mary, Charlie Charlie, and the others spying on me must have witnessed everything…
Nope. Not thinking about it.
Even if they knew I was bluffing, they hadn’t attacked me yet. Better to keep playing it cool than admit I was scared. Resolute, I spoke again:
“I’m planning to explore this mansion soon. To see who’s here.”
Lie. I wasn’t curious at all.
“But most of all, I want to know who owns this mansion. I always prefer certainty.”
The moment I learned who the owner was, I’d avoid them like the plague and escape. After all, whoever owned this creepy place had to be the strongest ghost of all.
“Oh, and—I want to know if there are any other humans here.”
That part was true. I desperately longed to meet another human. Sure, from their perspective, I was a ghost too—possessing a body that wasn’t mine. But still, I looked human. Better a ghost in human skin than no humans at all.
“So. Do you know anything?”
[Of course. I’m Charlie. The owner of this mansion is close to Ellie, while the offering is far away.]
[I’m Mary. The owner hides their form, so unless Ellie focuses, she won’t notice. The offering is on the 3rd floor.]
…I didn’t even know what floor I was on.
Still, at least this room wasn’t the 3rd floor—Charlie said the offering was “far away.” Since the window showed the yard, maybe I was on the 1st floor?
No…
It could be the 2nd floor with a terrace. Besides, the outside was shrouded in thick fog, making it impossible to see clearly. Vague silhouettes of structures shifted and moved on their own, only adding to the terror.
If you’re gonna hide something, at least hide it properly. Half-seen shapes are even worse.
One thing was certain: every time I looked out, the layout changed. Which meant even the so-called “1st floor view” could be nothing but ghostly tricks.
Setting aside unsolvable problems, I scanned the room. On the tall cupboard sat ball-jointed dolls. On the bed lay the black snake plush I’d been living with.
My gaze shifted.
On the desk were scattered letters and notes. A quill pen still glistened with fresh ink, as though just used.
I brushed the mailbox beside the desk, but nothing happened.
Honestly, there wasn’t much left to discover here. I’d been living in this room for a couple of days already, and nothing new seemed likely to show up.
If I wanted answers, I had to step outside. Anyone with half a brain could figure that out. But the thought terrified me.
Still, I couldn’t stay locked in forever. So I scanned the room for a weapon. Something—anything. But the conclusion was depressing: there was nothing useful.
All I had was the soft, plush black snake.
Maybe Ellie always carried it for comfort. I stared into its stitched eyes for three seconds, debating whether to take it.
“…Hmm.”
At the very least, it could serve as a makeshift shield. If something stabbed me, maybe the plush would take the hit. With that logic, I hugged the black snake to my chest and headed toward the door.
“Follow me or don’t—that’s your choice.”
I made sure not to forget one last bluff.
