The city was different after everything that had happened. Every neon sign hummed like a ghost's whisper, every passing breeze carried a murmur. It felt like ever since I entered this paranormal world I could feel… more, I don't know how to explain it. Maybe I was just paranoid. Maybe I wasn't.
Saiko stretched her arms behind her head. "So this is what fresh air feels like again. Pretty boring, comparing this to Benikaen's air is practically meaningless."
"If I were to try to explain it, it's like stepping out of an air conditioned room into a garbage pit." I said.
Genkei walked a few steps ahead. "We should find the crossroads as soon as possible. No point wasting time."
"Spoken like a true robot," Saiko teased.
"I'm not—" his stomach growled, loud enough to echo down the alley.
We all froze.
Saiko smirked. "Correction: robot with an empty fuel tank."
"I wasn't going to mention it," I said, "but that was definitely a stomach, not a spirit."
Genkei's glare was immediate. "I'm human. I require sustenance."
"Sure, sure," Saiko said, waving him off. "Next you'll say you have feelings too."
"I do."
"That's what a robot would say."
Genkei exhaled through his nose, clearly fighting the urge to swing at her. Then, as if to betray both of them, MY stomach growled next. Loudly.
Saiko blinked. Then grinned. "Ohhh, so it's contagious!"
Then hers joined in — a small, pathetic rumble.
I stared. "…And there it is."
Her grin fell. "…Betrayal."
I folded my arms. "Guess that makes it unanimous. Food first, ghost later."
---
We found ourselves in a small district of shops that clung to the edge of the city — that in-between zone where the streetlights buzz quietly and convenience stores feel like lighthouses. Neon signs flickered red and blue, advertising every kind of comfort food imaginable.
"Okay," I said, scanning the options. "We've got ramen, pizza, and burgers."
"Ramen," Genkei said immediately.
"Pizza," Saiko countered.
I raised a brow. "Burgers."
And just like that, it was war.
Saiko jabbed a finger at me. "You don't even look like a burger guy!"
I blinked. "What does that even mean?"
"Like— you're too calm! Burger energy is chaotic! You give off ramen energy at best."
"Is that an insult under the cover of a horoscope?"
Genkei crossed his arms. "Pizza is greasy. Ramen is balanced."
Saiko gasped dramatically. "Did you just call pizza unbalanced?!"
"I'm calling it trash."
"Sacrilege!"
Before I could get between them, Saiko snapped her fingers. "Fine. Let fate decide."
Genkei raised a brow. "How?"
She grinned,"We're doing Rock-Paper-Spirits."
I blinked. "…That's just rock-paper-scissors with a fancy name."
"But it sounds cooler. On three."
We all raised our hands.
"One—two—three!"
I threw scissors. Genkei threw rock. Saiko threw paper.
Saiko grinned triumphantly. "Ha! Paper beats rock!"
I pointed at my hand. "And scissors beat paper."
Genkei smirked faintly. "And rock beats scissors."
We froze.
Saiko frowned. "Wait. That's… a tie."
I sighed. "We all lose. We all win. How does this even—"
Genkei quietly held up a coin. "Simpler."
He flipped it. The metal flashed in the streetlight.
"Ramen for heads. Pizza for tails."
"What about my burger..?"
It landed on his palm — *heads.*
Saiko groaned. "You rigged that."
Genkei didn't even blink. "I did not."
I shrugged. "Ramen it is."
Saiko crossed her arms, muttering under her breath, "Pizza would've been destiny."
---
The ramen shop was small, tucked between a pawn shop and a karaoke bar. Steam fogged the windows, and the smell of broth hit us the moment we stepped in. The owner didn't even look. It was late enough that only one other customer sat there — a man hunched over a bowl, slurping like he was trying to drown himself. The owner didn't even look when we walked in.
We took a booth near the back.
Saiko leaned against the table, looking around. "You know, it's kind of surreal. One minute you're fighting cursed bathroom ghosts, next minute you're waiting on miso ramen."
I nodded. "Honestly, this might be the weirdest
part of the night."
‐‐‐
Our food came — steaming bowls of ramen, perfectly imperfect. Genkei was already halfway through his first bowl before the rest of us even got our chopsticks unwrapped.
Saiko stared at him. "You eat like a man escaping death."
"Efficiency," he said between slurps.
"You're not in the army."
He didn't answer.
I stirred my noodles idly. "Feels weird sitting somewhere normal. Like the world's still moving and we're just… not part of it."
Miu's voice would've chimed in perfectly there with something paradoxical, but she wasn't with us. Just quiet music from the shop radio, the hum of the lights, and the clatter of bowls.
Then a low voice drifted over from the counter.
"You kids…"
We turned.
The only other customer — an older man in a worn leather jacket — was staring at us through the steam. His face was weathered, eyes half-hidden beneath his hair.
"…You looking for the White Ghost?"
Saiko blinked. "Wait—what?"
He gestured lazily with his chopsticks. "I overheard you talking about ghosts. The Lady in White is the one ghost famous around here, right? You shouldn't go looking for her."
Genkei tensed slightly. "You know about her?"
The man nodded, slow and tired. "Everyone around here does. She's not just a rumor — she's a curse that never left."
He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. "If you're serious about finding her… go to the Forgotten Crossroads."
The what?" I asked.
"It's an old intersection past the south district," he said. "Used to connect the main highway before it was blocked off. Too many accidents. Too many sightings. People say anyone who stops there… never comes back."
Saiko frowned. "That sounds—comforting."
The man gave a dry chuckle. "I ain't joking. The place is sealed off now, barricaded. Locals avoid it like plague."
I glanced at Genkei and Saiko. "Guess that's where we're going, then."
The man stared for a long moment, then sighed and turned back to his food. "Kids these days got a death wish."
When we finished, Saiko stretched and let out a groan. "Okay. Ghosts or not, I could nap for a year."
"Too bad," I said, glancing out the window. "We've got about twenty minutes."
She frowned. "Twenty minutes until what?"
I checked my phone. "The Lady in White usually appears around midnight."
She pulled out her phone and squinted. "It's 11:40."
Genkei stood, slinging his sword over his shoulder. "Then we find the crossroad."
---
The streets grew darker as we moved south, passing cracked pavement and tilted signs. The city lights faded behind us, replaced by the weak glow of a few half-dead lamps.
"Forgotten Crossroads…" I murmured. "Supposedly she only appears where four paths meet. Lonely, dark intersections. No traffic, no witnesses."
Saiko hugged herself. "Love that. Totally not the setup to a murder."
Genkei pointed ahead. "There."
A narrow road split into four, right beneath a flickering light.
We took our positions, the three of us standing near the center. Nothing moved except the wind.
For a while, it was just silence.
Then —
*sniffle.*
A soft, broken sound echoed from down the road.
Saiko turned, whispering, "Tell me that's a cat."
"It's not a cat," Genkei said flatly.
The sound grew clearer. Sobbing. Low. Human.
And then, through the darkness, we saw her.
A woman in a white dress, veil covering her face. Her long hair dripping like ink. She stood at the edge of the crossroad, shoulders trembling, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Do you think I'm attractive?"
None of us moved.
The streetlight flickered once. Twice.
Then went out.