On the other side of the town...
"Hey, Sunfield," Nito whispered, his voice barely audible as he pushed open the worn wooden door of an old house.
"Yes?" she responded casually, standing right behind him.
CLANGGGG!
A sudden metallic clang echoed from the half-broken door hinge.
Sunfield immediately shivered, her arms twitching close to her body. "Open the door without making a sound," she said through clenched teeth. "Especially that sound."
"Clear," Nito said, trying not to laugh nervously. Then, more seriously, he added, "Shouldn't we go inside and check properly?"
Sunfield puffed her cheeks."Oh, Nito… my poor, terrified little brother," she said in a teasing tone. "Your big sister knows just how scared you are of ghosts."
"What?" Nito pointed at himself, offended. "I'm not—"
"Oh, I know, I know," she interrupted. "You're so scared that I'll do this part for you. Out of love."
Nito gave her a look—a mix of tired and resigned.
'I think it's no use to argue. Let's just… follow orders,' he thought, exhaling silently.
They continued checking each house cautiously—but only from the outside. Windows peeked into dark, abandoned rooms. Doors creaked on their hinges. A faint breeze whispered across the street.
"Sunfield," Nito said while peering through a broken window, "how long do you think it'll take to find them?"
"If their task is done, they would've shown up already," Sunfield replied. "And you know Justin. Even if he found us first, he'd hide—just to mess with us."
Nito snorted. "And that's why you told me not to shout. If they hear us, they'll avoid us."
"Exactly," she nodded.
After checking several more homes—still from outside—the golden hue of the setting sun spread across the decaying town.
"The sun is settling," Sunfield said, her tone shifting more serious. "We should start rounding everyone up and set camp before it gets too dark. I'll look for Stan. You head toward the other three."
"Ay ay, captain," Nito replied, saluting dramatically before going off in the direction of the trio.
---
Meanwhile...
Sunfield wandered between shadows, letting her instincts guide her. The wind was still. The town felt older than it looked, as though time itself had stopped paying attention here.
As she neared a worn-down house, a dull thump echoed from inside.
Thump.
Her eyes narrowed. She stepped closer, placing a hand on the door.
Was that…?
Cautiously, she pushed the door open.
Inside, lying on the floor, was Stan—half-stuck in a metal bucket, looking like he'd fought the house and lost.
"...Really?" she muttered under her breath.
Stan looked up at her with a blank face. There was a faint tremble in his eye, but he said nothing.
He'd clearly been through something.
Sunfield raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask. She'd learned long ago—when someone has that look in their eyes, it's better not to ask yet.
"Really sleeping on the floor now? Just how lazy are you?" she said instead, hands on her hips.
"What do you want?" Stan asked, his tone deadpan.
"The dusk is falling and dusk is rising," she said, using her usual cryptic phrasing. "We're assembling tents. Are you coming?"
Stan slowly stood, brushing dust off his trousers. "Coming," he said.
They walked in silence.
---
By the time they returned to camp, the sky had turned indigo.
Stan hadn't said a single word about the hallway. Not a whisper about the shadow.
Not a word about the cute, terrifying ghost.
Some stories were better left... unsaid.
-----------
Around the flickering campfire, all five finally gathered. The night was calm, the cold slowly crawling into their bones.
The fire cracked.
Stan sat cross-legged. He wasn't speaking. His gaze was fixed on the flames… but his mind — it was still back in that hallway.
The loli ghost.
Her dramatic voice.
The "three days" thing.
And that ridiculously cute "boooo".
Stan's face twitched a little.
He shivered, not because of the cold.
Sunfield, meanwhile, took the lead as usual. Sitting tall, one hand swinging proudly as she recounted a version of the day's events where she did all the work.
"…and if I hadn't personally taken charge, we'd all be ghosts by now,"
Nito sat beside her, nodding quietly. Not agreeing. Just nodding. As always, the bystander.
The wind blew softly, carrying dry leaves across the dark grass.
On the opposite side of the fire, the second team finally joined in.
First, the girl with long, deep-indigo robes, a staff resting on her shoulder like it weighed nothing — she stepped forward.
"I am Visceria," she introduced. Her voice was smooth, elegant, but somehow… distant.
Even when she looked at them, her eyes felt like they were seeing something else. Like her thoughts were somewhere far away. Here, but not here.
Sunfield narrowed her eyes a little. Nito just blinked.
Then came the second — a young man with a plain sword at his side and a crusader's emblem faintly shining on his armor.
"Yoma," he said with a polite nod. "Crusader. That's all."
Stan looked at both of them.
They seemed… normal. Too normal, maybe.
Stan sighed. Typical.
Some time passed. They chatted — random things.
Who saw a weird bird.
Who stepped on a rotten floorboard.
What kind of jerky they brought.
Sunfield praised herself three more times.
Nito tried making tea, but forgot to add leaves.
It wasn't anything special.
But the fire kept them warm.
And in that flickering orange glow, Stan's mind drifted again.
"Three… days…"
He closed his eyes for a second.
'No one's gonna believe that ghost…'
And the fire crackled.
---
The night passed like that. Simple. Strange. Slightly suspicious.
But it passed.
And something darker waited in the coming dawn.