He seemed to want to chase after them, but after going up a few steps, he hesitated and stopped. Having lived in this dilapidated building for years, the male ghost knew exactly how dangerous his upstairs neighbors were.
After two seconds of hesitation, he muttered, "Fools who don't know their place," and shrank back into the concrete stairs.
He thought he could finally get a good sleep, but less than half a minute later, footsteps echoed in the silent stairwell once again.
"Why are there so many people these last two days?" the male ghost couldn't help but grumble.
His home was this very step. Whenever he had nothing to do, he would hole up like a shut-in, keeping his eyes pointed upward. This angle allowed him to easily peek at the scenery beneath the clothes of anyone going upstairs—a real feast for the eyes. Back when the industrial district was booming, there were plenty of girls going up and down the stairs every day, allowing him to lounge at home all day long.
