The building loomed like a forgotten relic of the past. At the corner of Ashwood Lane and Fifth, it stood three stories tall, its stone walls choked with ivy, like nature was trying to reclaim it. Faded wrought iron railings curled around narrow balconies, and stained-glass windows caught the dull light like secret eyes.
Cassie stared up at it with cautious awe.
"Okay," Janey muttered beside her. "I take it back. This place isn't haunted. This place haunts other places."
Cassie elbowed her gently. "Be nice. It's kind of... beautiful."
Janey snorted. "So are death lilies. Doesn't mean I want to live with them."
The building was eerily quiet. No sounds of traffic despite being in the heart of the city. Even the wind seemed reluctant to blow.
But despite the peeling paint, the antique facade, and the overwhelming aura of something, they both knew this was the only option left.
After a long night of browsing sketchy listings, getting ghosted by landlords, and laughing over an ad that wanted firstborns as deposits, this was the only place they could afford within city limits and even this one came with an unspoken something isn't right.
Cassie reached out and pressed the buzzer. It gave a static hum before a rough male voice answered.
"You're here. Third floor. End of the hall."
The door clicked open without another word.
Janey raised a brow. "Well, that's not creepy at all."
Cassie pushed open the heavy door. The scent of old wood, mold, and maybe a dash of old cigars wrapped around them like an old coat. Dust clung to the air. The hallway was dimly lit by antique wall sconces, their bulbs flickering slightly like they resented being disturbed.
They climbed the stairs in silence, each creak beneath their feet sounding like a warning.
"Feel that?" she whispered.
"I feel regret," Janey replied. "And a very real urge to turn back."
The third floor was darker, quieter. The hallway stretched ahead, narrow and lined with doors. At the very end, one door stood ajar, light spilling from underneath.
Cassie knocked gently.
It swung open without a sound.
The man standing inside was tall, maybe in his early sixties, with neatly combed silver hair and a sharp suit that looked like it hadn't changed in style since the 40s. He wore thin-rimmed glasses and looked at them like they were already a disappointment.
"Miss Cassidy Blake? And Miss Janey Morales?"
Cassie nodded. "Yes. That's us. We called earlier."
He stepped aside. "Come in."
The room beyond was brighter, lit by natural sunlight through long, arched windows. The walls were lined with bookshelves, all filled. A small fireplace, unlit, rested at one side. The floors were old wood, worn but polished. The space carried the weight of history.
Cassie stepped in first, her artist's eyes drinking in the antique fixtures and slight warping of the floor that gave the place character.
"It's beautiful," she murmured.
"It's ancient," Janey corrected.
"It's both," the man said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "And well-maintained."
"Why so cheap?" Janey folded her arms and asked bluntly. "We just want to know why it's this cheap. Not that I'm complaining. But in this city, cheap comes with... strings....For the location, I mean. Doesn't add up."
The man didn't seem offended. He merely folded his hands. "It's old. People these days want modern. I offer quiet, stability, and discretion. I only rent to tenants who value those things."
Cassie tilted her head. "And you're okay with artists? We don't make a lot. Yet."
"You don't need to convince me. You need to live well enough to do what you love."
Janey whispered to Cassie, "I mean, that's not not creepy... but it's a good pitch."
Cassie glanced around. "So it's just us? No one else lives here?"
His lip twitched. "There is one other tenant. Keeps to himself. You'll hardly notice him."
Cassie exchanged a look with Janey.
Cassie bit her lip. "Can we see the unit?"
The landlord nodded and led them down the hall.
The door creaked open to reveal a surprisingly spacious unit. Unit 3B had a tarnished brass number plate and a door that moaned when opened. But inside..
"Whoa," Janey whispered.
It was... surprisingly nice. Spacious. High ceilings, hardwood floors, light filtering in through tall windows. The living room had a fireplace and dusty built-in shelves. The kitchen was outdated but functional. Two bedrooms, a single bathroom, but nothing wrong.
Cassie walked in, feeling the energy shift.
Her footsteps echoed oddly, like the apartment had been silent for a long time.
Cassie walked toward the window and stopped.
Directly across the narrow courtyard, another window stared back. And in it
A man.
He was tall, built like a shadow given form. Dressed in black, his hair loose around his shoulders. His face was pale, elegant in an old-world kind of way like marble statues you weren't allowed to touch. And his eyes...
They met hers across the distance.
Something inside her stilled. Her breath caught.
He blinked once. Slowly. Then turned and disappeared into the darkness.
"Cass?" Janey asked, following her line of sight.
Cassie turned away. "Nothing. Just... the neighbor."
Mr. Hayle cleared his throat. "If you're interested, the lease is ready. Month-to-month. No deposit necessary."
Janey stared at him. "No deposit?"
"None. Rent is due on the first. No noise past midnight. No visitors after 2 a.m. And don't enter the basement."
Cassie's brows knit. "Why not?"
He gave a cool smile. "Old pipes. Hazardous."
Janey opened her mouth, but Cassie elbowed her.
"We'll take it," she said quickly.
That night, their apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
Cassie sat cross-legged on a beanbag, drawing in the flickering light of a single desk lamp. Janey had passed out on the mattress with a half-eaten bag of chips cradled to her chest.
Cassie's sketchpad was filled with rough lines and shadows, eyes, long coats, and apples.
"You ever think we're just the background characters in someone else's ghost story?" she whispered to no one.
She sighed and turned back to lay in her corner, sketchpad open, pencil barely moving. But she wasn't drawing.
She was thinking about the man in black.
Not the one she saw in the street though that still unnerved her but the one across the courtyard.
Was it the same man?
She couldn't tell.
Something about him... shimmered. Not visibly, but in presence. Like he wasn't quite part of the same world.
"What if we just moved into a haunted building?" Janey asked from her corner.
Cassie sighed. "Then I guess we learn how to live with ghosts."
"You're taking this way too well."
"What's the worst that can happen?"
Janey stared at her. "Do not tempt fate like that. Ever."
Cassie chuckled, closing her eyes.
Elsewhere in the building, in an apartment far colder than the rest, the man in black stood at his window. Unmoving. Silent.
He stared into the night, then down at something in his palm.
An apple. Bruised on the side.
He turned it once. Twice. Then placed it gently on a nearby table beside a black stone relic glowing faintly with silver veins.
His eyes shifted.
Toward the ceiling.
His mouth curved into the barest shadow of a smile.