I decided to explore.
That's the rule, right? New place, mysterious walls, invisible audience — obviously, a blind twelve-year-old should go wandering alone. Perfect logic.
The corridors were long and whispery. My steps echoed softly, and every echo sounded like it had its own opinion.
The air carried faint scents — smoke, flowers, and something sharp like old metal.
The ghost girl was humming somewhere above me, out of sight, pretending she wasn't following me.
Typical.
I turned left, or maybe right — directions mean nothing to me — and nearly bumped into someone.
Not a ghost. I could tell because they breathed.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" I said quickly, stepping back.
The person gasped. "Please, don't bow! I should be the one apologizing!"
The voice was young — maybe around my age, maybe older — cheerful but shaking like a nervous bell.
"You… have bells?" I asked.
There was a soft jingle. "Ah! You noticed!"
He laughed, embarrassed. "They're stitched to my sleeves. For work. Helps the others know where I am."
"Oh," I said. "Nice fashion statement."
He chuckled shyly. "I'm Rin. I help with… things. Around here."
"Things," I repeated. "That's specific."
He hesitated before saying, "You can think of me as a helper. Or a… listener."
"A listener?"
He nodded, then remembered I couldn't see it. "I mean, yes! I… listen for the house."
That sentence was so weird my brain just paused.
"You listen for the house?" I said. "Like… a therapist for architecture?"
Rin laughed again — a soft, surprised sound. "Something like that. This place… speaks, sometimes. Not with words. With sounds. Temperature. Vibrations. You'll feel it too, if you stay long enough."
I almost told him I already felt it, but something in his tone made me stay quiet.
Instead, I said, "Well, if the house starts complaining about me, please tell it I'm house-trained."
He laughed again, louder this time. And for some reason, the air around us warmed.
Not just emotionally. Literally.
The faint chill that always clung to the corridors faded, replaced by soft warmth that brushed my skin.
I froze, confused.
Rin stopped laughing. "Ah… it likes you," he said.
"What likes me?"
He smiled, and though I couldn't see it, I could feel it in his voice. "The house."
Great. I've been here one day and already made friends with the building.
The ghost girl peeked through the ceiling and whispered, "Told you. You're special."
I ignored her. Mostly because answering her is becoming a habit and that's dangerous.
"Anyway," Rin said softly, "if you ever feel lost, just hum something. The house listens. It'll guide you back."
"That's… not creepy at all," I said.
He chuckled again. "You'll get used to it."
Maybe he was right.
As I walked away, my hand brushed the wall again — just for balance — and I swear the stone pulsed beneath my palm, faint and kind, like it was saying, I heard you.