Ahsan walked into AZ's office the next day and immediately spotted Noi at the counter.
She looked up, saw him, and let out a soft laugh before clapping a hand over her mouth—far too late to pretend it hadn't happened.
Ahsan's stomach sank.
That bastard actually showed her the pictures.
AZ was lounging in his chair like a man with zero responsibilities, manga propped open, feet practically on the desk. He looked up with the laziest smile possible.
"Ah! Ahsan. Welcome back."
Ahsan marched straight toward him.
"You really had to show Noi those photos, didn't you?!"
AZ raised both hands like he was surrendering to a traffic police officer.
"Calm down, mate. Look on the bright side—Noi laughed. Like, genuinely laughed. First time I've seen her do that."
Ahsan blinked.
Noi... laughed because of me?
His anger evaporated instantly, replaced with a warm, awkward flutter that he absolutely refused to examine too closely.
He cleared his throat.
"So... uh... are we going demon-cleaning again today?"
AZ shook his head.
"Then what are we doing?"
AZ didn't answer. He simply stood, grabbed his coat, and jerked his chin toward the door. Ahsan followed him out, confused, and the two hopped into a passing rickshaw. They rode through narrow lanes until they stopped in front of a quiet residential neighborhood—older houses, dim alleys, trees casting long shadows.
Ahsan eyed the house carefully.
"So... is there a ghost in this house or something?"
AZ shrugged. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" Ahsan stared at him. "What do you mean you don't know?"
"A woman called," AZ said, pushing open the gate. "She claimed strange things were happening—objects moving on their own, doors opening by themselves. Classic horror-movie starter pack."
Ahsan swallowed. "So... ghost?"
"Maybe."
AZ approached the house like it was mildly interesting homework.
"But while we were talking, the call suddenly cut. Her phone turned off right after."
Ahsan felt a prickle crawl down his spine.
"Okay... definitely sounding like a ghost."
AZ flashed him a calm, infuriating smile.
"Could be a ghost. Could be an intruder. Could be both. Who knows?"
He placed his hand on the front door.
"Let's go find out."
AZ and Ahsan knocked on the door, but it creaked open on its own.Both men exchanged a look.
AZ leaned inside first, scanning the quiet interior. "Well… nobody's home."He stepped back and murmured, "So, Ahsan, what do you think? If we walk in, we could get accused of breaking in. But if we don't—and something happened to her—we might regret it forever."
Ahsan hesitated for a moment, then exhaled. "We should take the risk. We came here to help, right?"
They entered.
The house was spotless. Too spotless. Every object was placed with unnatural precision, like the place had been staged for guests.Ahsan frowned. "Why is it so clean? It feels… empty. Like no one actually lives here."
AZ walked ahead into a bedroom and called him over. "Look. Her phone."
Ahsan followed. A lone phone lay on the floor, screen cracked, but there was no sign of the woman.
They stepped out and tried another room—And froze.
It was the same room. Same phone. Same window. Same carpet crease by the bed.
Ahsan blinked. "Uh… AZ? Are all the rooms in this house identical?"
AZ pointed at the phone. "Nope. We just got looped back into the same room."
"What? But we definitely went into another one!"
Ahsan bolted out the doorway and rushed into the next room—only to end up exactly where AZ was standing.
AZ smiled faintly. "Welcome back. I think I know what we're dealing with."He raised a finger."Poltergeist."
Ahsan stared. "Poltergeist? But they only throw furniture in movies! They can do… this?!"
"Plenty of spirits can distort space," AZ replied calmly. "Remember the cursed room in your college? Same trick. Your eyes think you're walking straight. Reality says otherwise."
Ahsan asked, "Then how do we get out of this?"
"There's an easy way and a hard way."AZ tapped the window. "Easy way: jump out. But we still have to find the woman, so we can't."
Ahsan gulped. "Then what's the hard way?"
AZ drew his dark machete."This."
He swung and shattered the door frame. The broken door fell outward—then vanished from sight.
They stepped forward. Ahsan suddenly felt solid wood under his foot, even though nothing was visible. The broken door was there—just hidden beneath the illusion.
AZ closed his eyes and placed one hand on the wall, dragging his fingers slowly along as he walked. "Poltergeists love illusions. But their biggest weakness? They can only twist one room at a time."
He pushed into another room. Intact door. Space.Slash. Crash. Another door was broken and shoved out.It vanished again.
Room after room, AZ repeated the process—enter, identify, break, discard.To Ahsan's eyes, the doors looked perfectly fine, but under his shoes, the crushed wood fragments revealed the truth: the illusions were collapsing one by one.
"There were five rooms originally," AZ said, stepping out again. "I broke four. Only one remains real now."
He approached the next door and placed a palm against it.His hand slipped straight through. Illusion.
He moved to the next.Also an illusion.
On the third try, his fingers met solid wood.
He smiled."Found the real one."
AZ opened the final intact door.
Inside, curled up in the corner, was the missing woman—shaking, eyes red from crying. She looked up at the two strangers in her doorway and whispered, "W-who are you?"
AZ stepped forward and offered a reassuring hand. "We're the exorcists you called. We're here to help."
Just as she reached for him, Ahsan's alarmed voice cut through the room.
"AZ… look at the TV!"
AZ turned around.
The television flickered violently, the entire screen covered in blood-red words—GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!
The words multiplied, crawling across the display like moving veins.
Without flinching, AZ pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He pricked his finger with his dark blade, letting a drop of blood fall. With a swift, practiced motion, he wrote a symbol on the paper and pressed it firmly against the TV.
The screen went completely black.
Silence.
AZ clapped dust off his hands. "And… mission complete."
Ahsan peeked over his shoulder at the paper. Written on it were the words:
"She is the new owner, not an intruder."
Ahsan frowned. "What do you mean… intruder?"
AZ leaned back casually. "Poltergeists don't attack people. They protect territory. Their home. Anyone they don't recognize gets illusions—noise, movement, loops—to push them out. But once they know the owner, they stop. They're strict, but not violent."
The three of them stepped out of the room—and saw the truth.
Every door AZ had broken earlier now lay shattered on the floor exactly where they should be. The illusions had dissolved completely.
The woman gasped. "Thank you so much… How can I ever repay you?"
AZ scratched his chin. "No need. We kinda demolished your doors, so charging you would feel rude."He added with a small grin, "Besides, you're lucky, ma'am. The spirits in this house aren't malicious. They're protectors. Usually peaceful—but if someone tries to harm the homeowner, they'll strike back without hesitation."
The woman placed a hand on her chest, relieved. "So… I'm lucky to have poltergeists with me?"
AZ smiled warmly. "They have another name, actually. You can think of them as… guardian angels."
They headed toward the exit. Just before they stepped outside, the woman called after them, "Please come again! I want to thank you properly next time!"
AZ waved. "Of course, ma'am!"
But once they were a few steps away from the house, Ahsan muttered under his breath, "Yeah, well… we're never coming back here. No way I'm dealing with that again."
AZ gave a dead-serious nod. "Yes. Absolutely. Not happening."