The room had grown colder.
The old man sat opposite Aaron, his fingers quivering slightly as he refilled the old lamp with oil. The faint yellow light of the flame danced across his face, throwing wrinkles into deeper shapes carving fear across his skin.
"It's true then," he muttered half to himself. "If what you said really happened… then you must not speak of it. To anyone. Ever!"
Aaron merely nodded. The silence between them was like weight.
The old man swallowed. "Listen, boy. If the blessing you carry came from a god, then it's possible..no, likely, that the god itself was attacked. And now… asleep."
His eyes darted toward the window where a thin fog clung to the glass.
"When gods sleep, strange things wake."
He took a slow breath, his voice trembling as he leaned forward. "Anyway, let me tell you what we know. The ghost on the third floor, it's a Bound Dead class. Most likely a female. That's all our scouts could find."
Aaron's hands went rigid on his knees. The air was thick, almost liquid.
"The floor used to be a furniture shop," the old man went on. "Tables lined up, mirrors, wardrobes… a maze now. If indeed it is bound there, movement will be restricted. There are many corners, reflections and blind spots.
The oil lamp danced with light. Something crackled inside it, and the old man ducked.
He lowered his voice. "We've classified it as Veil Rank, for now. That means it's not fully manifested. Yet."
His tongue darted across dry lips. "The problem is, I still can't decide if it's a Shade or a Haunter."
He looked toward Aaron, expecting a response.
Aaron said nothing.
The old man smiled grimly. "A Shade just makes you afraid. Drives you out. Turn your mind inside out with images you can't explain. But a Haunter." He paused, the word hanging heavy. "A Haunter feeds on despair. It'll play with you, whisper, twist your thoughts until you beg it to end. Sometimes, it gives a false-quest to drag you deeper into its domain or a true quest when you will gain an ability."
The flame hissed again as if acknowledging.
Aaron's voice came quiet. "So you want me to go there."
"I don't want to," said the old man. "But we have to. If the ghost's presence keeps spreading, this whole district is going to rot. The air's already changing. Moreover, we need more safe places for more humans."
He stood, the chair groaning under his weight. "We'll go when the moon's high. Until then, rest my friend."
Aaron stood up. "Alright."
The old man hesitated at the doorway, eyes fixed on the floorboards above. "If it is truly bound, we cannot destroy the place. If it's tied to something like a chair, a mirror, a frame then we can break it. That is your and our only chance."
He was gone.
Later that night, Aaron sat in his room, Quanta hovered near the bed, her metallic body aglow faintly blue, spinning slowly like a thinking machine.
"What were those things the old man said?" she asked. Her voice was calm, yet curious. "Shade. Haunter. Bound Dead. None of those are in my database."
Aaron rubbed his temple. His voice came soft. "I… don't know how to explain it. I just know."
"Know?" Quanta tilted slightly. "You mean you've encountered such entities before?
He shook his head. "No. Not before. But when he said those words… it was like something opened in my head. Every detail, every meaning, every danger, I knew it all. Like someone whispered it into me."
The light flickered.
Quanta's mechanical iris contracted. "Someone? Who?"
Aaron stared at the wall. In a moment, it seemed as though the wood grain was breathing.
"That's the frightening part," he said quietly. "I have no idea."
The candlelight shuddered; shadows crawled across the edges of the room.
He spoke again, this time barely in a whisper. "Shades don't attack. They make you hate a place, make you leave. But a Haunter… it doesn't let you go. It drowns you in despair until you belong to it."
Quanta's light dimmed. "That information wasn't in your memory?"
"I know," he said, looking up at her with hollow eyes. "That's what scares me. It wasn't there before tonight."
Outside, something creaked from above, the slow dragging moan of wood shifting under unseen weight.
Both of them froze.
Quanta's sensors flickered. "No lifeform detected." But Aaron wasn't listening anymore. He stared at the ceiling-the sound echoing in the same rhythm as a human step. Then it stopped. A long, slow silence swallowed the room.
"What if it already knows we're coming?" Aaron whispered.