The city of versile was wrapped in its usual blanket of fog, a gray haze that smothered moonlight and made every shadow feel alive. Within the city's southern district, in a modest apartment overlooking the canal, Kael sat at his desk, head bent over a spread of books.
His candlelight flickered dangerously, threatening to die, casting long silhouettes of the clutter across the walls. The stacks of books, scribbled notes, and loose pages looked less like the study of a scholar and more like the lair of a conspiracy theorist.
Kael rubbed his temples, muttering, "Orders… Phase… madness threshold… restrictions… Are you kidding me? This entire system feels like my old university professor designed it just to ruin my life."
He scrawled another half-legible note across the page, his handwriting getting messier with each passing minute. His pen scratched furiously until it tore a hole in the parchment. He groaned, tossing the pen down.
"Why does this feel like writing my thesis all over again? Except back then, the worst outcome was failing a class. Now it's death. Or worse, insanity. Honestly, at this point, I'd prefer the class."
The room was suffocatingly silent, so silent that Kael became aware of his own breathing. Then
The candlelight guttered, sputtered twice, and went out.
Kael froze.
The silence deepened. The shadows in his room stretched unnaturally long, crawling across the floor like living things. His heart pounded, each beat louder than the last.
The air grew heavy, pressing on his chest. The temperature dropped sharply, his breath fogging.
Then crack.
His mirror shattered, spiderwebs of glass scattering across the floor.
Kael's hand darted instinctively to his revolver lying on the desk. He grabbed it with both hands, raising it toward the door, his knuckles white, his body trembling.
The presence was coming closer. A rushing, suffocating pressure. It moved too quickly for thought, like a predator lunging from the dark.
Whispers slithered into his ears. Words he couldn't understand but somehow felt. Hungry, desperate, mocking.
His trigger finger twitched.
Then
"Boo!"
A voice rang out right next to his ear.
Kael yelped, nearly firing into the wall. He spun, his revolver trembling in his hand—
Only to see a translucent figure floating just above his bed.
Rose.
Her form shimmered with an otherworldly glow, her hair floating as if underwater. She drifted closer, a mischievous grin on her face. Before Kael could curse her, she slipped behind him and draped her ghostly arms around his neck.
"Did you miss me?" she whispered teasingly.
Kael shut his eyes, breathed in slowly, and holstered his revolver. "Miss you? Yeah, like I miss tax collectors."
Rose's grin widened as she pressed her chin against his shoulder. "Ouch. Cold as always. I came all this way just to see you, and this is how you treat me?"
"You nearly scared me into cardiac arrest."
"Please. Your heart's stronger than that. Don't flatter yourself."
Kael peeled her hand off his shoulder, glaring. "Do spirits have some unwritten rule that says you must terrorize people? Or is this just your personal hobby?"
She ignored him completely, floating lazily around his room. She sifted through his papers, flipped a book upside down, and even lay across his bed as if she owned it.
"Your handwriting is atrocious," she commented. "No wonder you're still single."
Kael deadpanned. "Yes, that's the reason. Thank you for your input, Miss Poltergeist."
She stuck out her tongue, then grinned. "How's the potion digesting?"
Kael paused, narrowing his eyes. "…Pretty good, though. Why?"
She tilted her head, her translucent hair spilling like liquid silver. "Just making sure you don't, you know, explode into a tentacle monster."
"Comforting," Kael muttered, rubbing his face.
She winked, then floated toward the window. "Don't worry. I'll be watching you."
"Perfect," Kael grumbled. "Exactly what every man wants constant surveillance from a ghost."
Her laugh echoed even after her figure dissolved into mist, leaving him alone with the shards of his mirror.
Kael sighed, sinking back into his chair. "First a ruined thesis, now a ruined mirror. What a night."
The next day, Kael sat at his desk in the Obsidian Order headquarters, staring at the ever-growing mountain of paperwork. His desk looked like the aftermath of a small scale avalanche.
He leaned back, arms crossed behind his head. "So this is it. This is the grand life of a Phase 9 initiate. Fight horrors by night, fill out tax forms by day."
A timid knock came at the door.
"Mr. Morty?" A young recruit peeked in, holding another stack of files. "Captain Gary asked me to deliver these."
Kael groaned. "Just put them with the others."
The recruit hesitated. "S-sir, you already have three piles."
Kael waved dismissively. "Start a fourth pile. Congratulations, you've solved the problem."
The recruit blinked, visibly confused, before scurrying away.
Kael dropped his forehead onto the desk. "I drank a potion, risked madness, survived being dismembered, and this is my reward. Paperwork."
Enough was enough. He needed a distraction. And when it came to distractions, one man always delivered.
Kael found Marlowe hunched over a massive book in his laboratory, surrounded by clutter, magnifying glass in hand. His hair looked as though he'd been struck by lightning, and his desk was barely visible under piles of parchment.
"Still alive in there?" Kael asked, leaning against the doorway.
Marlowe glanced up, his eyes wild. "Barely. But you won't believe what I found."
Kael strolled in. "Last time you said that, it was a moldy sandwich that apparently 'contained traces of mystical fungus.'"
"This is different!" Marlowe thumped the book dramatically. "Behold the Hero's Diary. Found hidden in his estate. Nobody's been able to decipher it. Scholars, seers, top-tier analysts they all say it's gibberish."
Kael leaned closer, skeptical. "Let me see."
Marlowe snorted. "Ha! You? Please. You wouldn't understand a word."
Kael glanced at the text
And his heart stopped.
The letters twisted before his eyes, aligning into coherent words, sentences, paragraphs only he could read.
Fragment One: "One must act their part, lest the potion reject you."
Fragment Two: "Truth is but another form of madness."
Fragment Three: "To face the gods, one must first lie to oneself."
Kael's expression flickered. He quickly shut the book. "Nope. Total gibberish."
Marlowe squinted. "Wait. You were reading it!"
Kael smirked. "And you were staring at me like a hawk. Suspicious."
Marlowe groaned, dragging his hands through his wild hair. "I hate you."
"Love you too," Kael said casually, tucking the diary's secrets deep in his mind.
Back in his office, Kael replayed the fragments in his head.
Act their part… Truth as madness… Lies to face gods…
He wrote in his journal:
"So the so-called hero wasn't mad. He was like me. A transmigrator. And this… 'acting method' isn't just superstition. It's a survival tactic."
He leaned back, eyes half-lidded. "Pretend long enough until the lie becomes truth. What could possibly go wrong?"
As Kael left for the evening, he spotted Captain Gary speaking with a finely dressed man beside a carriage. The man radiated wealth and power.
Gary gestured. "Kael, this is Mr. Rowe."
The man's smile was sharp. "So this is the Obsidian Order's rising star. I've heard impressive things."
Kael tipped his hat lazily. "All lies. I'm actually very unimpressive."
Rowe chuckled. "I like you. Tell me what if I offered you… say, a more lucrative opportunity?" He produced a pouch heavy with coins.
Kael's eyes sparkled like a starving man seeing a feast. Shiny money…
Rose, invisible nearby, watched with admiration. He'll refuse. He's too noble for greed.
Kael reached toward the pouch
Only for Gary to cut in. "Mr. Morty belongs to the Obsidian Order."
Rowe's smile thinned. "A shame." He stepped into his carriage, wheels rattling away.
Kael sighed dramatically. "Goodbye, sweet fortune…"
Rose muttered, "…Never mind. Not noble at all."
That evening, Kael arrived at the Seekers Association. The tall stone building loomed, lanterns glowing warmly against its austere walls.
Inside, he was greeted by a young woman with auburn hair and sharp green eyes.
"Welcome," she said, her voice calm but firm. "I'm Roseline. How may I help you?"
Kael tipped his hat. "Kael Morty. Applying for a job. Thought I'd give truth-seeking a try."
She handed him a form. "Fill this out. We'll see if you qualify."
As he waited, Kael muttered, "Amazing. Traveled across worlds, fought monsters, and I still can't escape job interviews."
Eventually, he was led into a chamber where an older man sat behind a desk. Their conversation was sharp, testing Kael's wit and composure. Finally, the man nodded.
"You're hired. Welcome to the Seekers Association."
Kael shook his hand with a smile. As he left, though, he noticed something unsettling the man's shadow stretched unnaturally, twisting across the wall like a living serpent.
Kael blinked. It returned to normal.
"…Yep. Definitely cursed. Love this city."
Back home, Kael jotted in his journal:
Day 1: Woke up in another world. Possible hallucination.
Day 3: Met Rose. She's a stalker with ghost privileges.
Day 5: Apparently, I can read a madman's diary. Yay me.
Day 7: Refused a bribe. Still crying about it.
He closed the journal, muttering, "What a week."
As he drifted to sleep, his journal flipped open on its own.
On the last page, a new symbol had appeared etched in black ink he hadn't written. It pulsed faintly, as if alive.