Night had always been Ailee's favorite time. Not because of its beauty, but because of its mournful color, much like her perpetually grieving heart since her parents had parted ways, choosing separate paths. In the massive palace, which now felt colder than a tomb, Ailee, who had just turned twenty, was a true recluse.
She had no friends. She had no one to lean on. Every night, the bedroom walls remained silent, with only the echo of her own heartbeat filling the air, surrounded by a deafening solitude.
Until, one cold night, she sensed a presence.
It began as just a chilling puff of breath on the back of her neck as she wept on the balcony. Then, a gentle touch on her hair, as soft as an autumn breeze, which always appeared right after she shed tears.
"You're there, aren't you?" Ailee whispered, her voice hoarse, into the empty air beside her.
There was no reply, only a strange warmth creeping up her hands as she clutched her teacup. A warmth that shouldn't have been there.
She named him Duncan.
Duncan never spoke, but Ailee knew he was present. She felt him follow her. When Ailee sketched gloomy images in her sketchbook, Duncan would hold his breath (or whatever passed for it). When Ailee played the piano in the dusty living room, the melody she played always felt a little fuller, as if an invisible hand was pressing the keys with her, forming a perfect harmony.
To Ailee, Duncan was everything. He was the loyal listener who never judged, the silent lover who never left. When the outside world rejected her, Duncan accepted her.
Their love grew in an intimate silence. Ailee would spend hours talking to Duncan. She told him about her sweet childhood memories, the pain of her parents' divorce, and most importantly, how much she loved Duncan—the entity she couldn't truly see, touch, or hear.
"I know this is insane," Ailee whispered, leaning back into the spot where she knew Duncan stood. "But I never felt completely alive before you came."
That night, something else happened. As Ailee was drifting off to sleep, she felt a soft pressure on her lips. The touch was icy cold, yet its vibration warmed her soul. It was their first kiss, a silent promise from the other side.
🌑
Weeks passed. Ailee sank deeper into her abnormal romance. She began to neglect eating and sleeping, wanting only to spend every second with Duncan. She wanted more; she wanted to see him.
One night, as the moon shone a pale blue outside her window, Ailee pleaded.
"Show yourself. I want to see you, Duncan. I want to know what I love," she begged, her eyes filled with the tears of longing.
A long silence hung in the air. Then, the air before her began to swirl, thickening like black smoke. Slowly, a figure formed.
Duncan.
He was an exquisitely handsome young man, with skin as pale as marble and eyes that glowed with a melancholic golden light. He wore faded, antique clothing, looking like a nobleman trapped in time.
Ailee gasped, not out of fear, but sheer awe. "You... You're real," she whispered.
Duncan smiled. His smile was beautiful, but there was an ancient sorrow within it.
"I have always been real to you, Ailee. Since the moment you needed me."
His voice was the melody Ailee had waited so long for, yet there was an strange resonance to it, as if the sound came from the bottom of a deep well.
They spent the rest of the night in an embrace. Duncan's touch now felt colder, as if slowly draining the warmth from Ailee's body, but Ailee didn't care. She was simply loving and being loved, and that was enough.
"Never leave me, Duncan," Ailee said.
Duncan stroked her cheek. "I won't. But if you want us to be together forever, you must help me. I need... your warmth."
"Anything for you," Ailee said without hesitation.
Duncan smiled again, and this time, the smile was wide, too wide, and the golden light in his eyes shifted into a ravenous flame. He gripped Ailee's arm, which suddenly felt weak.
"I am the perfect love, Ailee, because I am the void you needed," Duncan hissed, his voice rustling. "You are lonely, you are broken. You are the perfect vessel for me to take over..."
Duncan was not a ghost who loved. He was a malevolent entity, a manifestation of Ailee's negative energy and inner ruin, waiting only for a crack to seize her very being. The false love was just bait, a ploy to bind her soul.
"What are you doing?" Ailee tried to scream, but her voice was only a whimper.
Duncan leaned in, kissing Ailee ferociously. The kiss was no longer ice; it was a fire that burned from the inside out. Ailee felt her soul being drawn out, like a thread pulled from worn-out cloth.
In her final grip of consciousness, Ailee realized the true horror: she didn't love Duncan. She loved the illusion he provided—the illusion of attention, the illusion of warmth. And for that illusion, she sold herself.
As dawn broke, the room was empty. Only one figure stood in the center of the room. It was Ailee, yet it wasn't.
Her eyes glowed gold, her smile was wide and strange, exactly like Duncan's. Cold and ancient.
She walked to the piano, and her fingers danced across the keys, playing the most perfect and most beautiful melody that had ever been.
In the corner of the room, a teacup fell, shattering into pieces. And in the ceramic shards, the reflection of the figure standing in the room didn't show Ailee, but the handsome young man with the blazing gold eyes—Duncan, now in a warm, living body.
"Forever," whispered "Ailee" with Duncan's rustling voice, gazing at her new reflection, "we are together."
She was no longer the lonely Ailee. She was Duncan, the ghost lover who had finally found his new dwelling, and he would never be lonely again.