The city was awash with neon lights.
Cassie tugged her coat tighter around her body, the early evening wind biting through the fabric as she stood at the bus stop. The streets of Central Square buzzed with life
People brushing past one another, taxis honking.
But her eyes were fixated on the skyline.
Liya's face was everywhere.
On one billboard, she posed with a bottle of glowing serum, her skin porcelain smooth, her smile bright and flawless. On another, she twirled in a couture gown for a fashion brand, caught mid-spin like a modern-day goddess. There was even a third, the largest where Liya's gaze pierced straight through the camera, her manicured hand clutching a new diamond-encrusted phone.
Cassie stared, lips parted slightly.
"She's looks so unreal," she murmured.
Liya had that kind of presence that made the world bend around her. She was stunning, graceful, and seemingly untouchable. Her rise had been meteoric from street-dance competitions to becoming the most adored celebrity in the country. And she looked so young too. Younger than Cassie, yet already a millionaire icon with adoring fans screaming her name.
Cassie exhaled softly.
In that moment, she forgot about the ghosts, the fear, even the looming sense of being watched that had haunted her the last few nights. She just wanted to go home, eat cheap noodles, and scroll through cat videos until she fell asleep.
The bus arrived with a loud screech, and she stepped on, tapping her card and making her way to the seat near the back. She sat down with a sigh, resting the cake delivery receipt on her lap.
The vehicle rumbled to life, weaving through the packed streets.
Cassie leaned her head against the window, watching the blurring lights streak past.
Then she felt it.
Cold.
Like the air around her suddenly dipped five degrees. Her breath fogged slightly. She stiffened, her pulse climbing.
No. Please no.
Her eyes flicked forward. Nothing.
But in the reflection on the window there he was.
That same ghost boy. Pale. Wet. Barefoot. His hair damp, clinging to his temples. His body curled slightly as though still dancing to a song only he could hear. His eyes locked onto hers, full of silent pleading.
Cassie's throat constricted. Her fingers curled tightly around her coat hem.
She forced her eyes away. Pretended not to see him. If she screamed now, everyone on the bus would panic. And she would go viral online as the crazy girl screaming at air.
Just breathe, Cassie. He's not real. Well he is. But ignore him. Maybe he'll leave.
She kept her gaze glued to the seat ahead of her, heart pounding.
The boy remained.
Watching.
Her stop came at last.
Cassie nearly tripped getting off, barely keeping it together until her boots hit the sidewalk.
It was late now. The sky above her complex was dark, the streetlamps flickering inconsistently. Her apartment was just two blocks down.
She turned the corner and froze.
He was there again.
Standing in front of her building. This time closer. Solid in the way that made her blood run cold.
"No," she said, holding up a hand like a traffic officer. "You're not doing this. Not tonight."
The ghost boy flinched.
Cassie took a shaky breath and marched forward, her nerves fried. "You've been following me! First in the bakery. Then the mirror. Now the bus. What do you want? I don't know what you think I am, but I'm not your ghost therapist!"
Still, the boy didn't vanish. He stood with his shoulders hunched, his mouth trembling.
"I'm not cut out for this," Cassie hissed, hands shaking now. "I didn't ask for this third-eye crap! I don't even know how it works! You ghosts...you're all just...just...too much!"
He suddenly dropped to his knees.
"Please help me," he whispered.
Cassie's breath hitched.
He wasn't trying to scare her. He wasn't one of the violent ones. His expression was so broken, so… young.
Her anger faltered.
"I don't… I can't…" she stammered, hugging herself.
"Please," he repeated. "I don't know where else to go."
Cassie closed her eyes and groaned. "I'm gonna regret this."
She looked down at him. "Fine. Talk. Who are you?"
"My name is Marcuk," he said softly, voice echoing like a distant wind. "I was a dancer. A student."
His fingers curled into his pants, transparent and trembling. "I was practicing for a showcase. It was supposed to be big. A talent scout was coming. If I performed well, I'd get a scholarship. A chance to perform with my idol."
Cassie frowned.
"I skipped school to rehearse that day," Marcuk went on, his voice hollow. "We were in the studio. Me and my friends. Someone came."
He swallowed though his throat was long past human.
"She wore sunglasses. A mask. She asked to rent the room for privacy. We said yes. We were just excited to have someone famous in our studio, even if she didn't tell us who she was."
Cassie stiffened.
Marcuk didn't notice. "She gave a necklace That's when it happened. I felt it. A strange pressure in my chest. Like my heart was being pulled. I remember collapsing. My friends rushed over. But I was already gone."
His eyes shone. "I saw my body from above. And her… she just stood there. Watching. She left with her assistant. Didn't say a word."
Cassie's heart raced. "She?"
Marcuk nodded.
"She had this… aura. Darkness swirling around her. I couldn't see her face, but I recognized her voice later… when I heard it on a billboard ad playing."
He looked up at her, tears in his ghostly eyes.
"It was the superstar Liya."
Cassie stepped back, stunned.
Liya?
Cassie took a shaky step backward, her head spinning.
"Liya the stad?" she echoed, barely able to say the name aloud.
Marcuk nodded slowly.
Cassie gripped her head. "You've got the wrong person."
"I don't."
"She's a celebrity! She's on every billboard in this city. She's rich, famous, flawless! She's not...she's not killing people!"
Marcuk's translucent eyes were filled with grief. "I didn't say she stabbed me. I said she took something… Something inside me just ripped away. I don't know what she did, but the moment she walked into that studio, something dark came with her."
Cassie wrapped her arms around herself, goosebumps crawling up her skin. Her breath came in uneven huffs.
"I...I can't do this."
Marcuk opened his mouth to speak, but she turned sharply. "I can't. I'm not a ghost whisperer! I'm a broke delivery girl with a part-time art gig! I can't even pay my damn electricity bill this month and you're telling me to investigate a top-tier A-lister with evil powers?!"
She stormed toward her building, Marcuk trailing behind her like a fog that wouldn't lift.
"I'm sorry, I really am," she said over her shoulder, voice shaking. "But I can't help you."