---
The silence in my dorm room the next morning was a lie. It was the kind of quiet that felt heavy, like the air was holding its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. My phone, mercifully restored after yesterday's… incident… hadn't buzzed once. No texts from Lexi demanding my presence for "calibration." No cheerful good morning GIFs from Yuki. No thoughtful message from Sage about the day's weather and recommended footwear.
It was unsettling. This was their version of "giving me space," and it felt more like the calm before a very specific, three-pronged storm.
I made it to my first class, Sociology 101, without incident. I took notes. I listened to the professor. I was a model student. And the entire time, the back of my neck itched with the feeling of being watched. I kept expecting to see Yuki peering through the door's window or Lexi casually taking notes in the back row. But there was nothing. Just the normal, boring hum of academia.
It was after class, as I was shoving my notebook into my backpack, that I felt it. A presence. Not the creepy, spectral kind I was becoming an unwilling expert on. This was a warm, solid, and overwhelmingly familiar one.
"Your posture is terrible for your cervical spine."
I didn't even have to look up. "Hello, Sage."
He was standing next to my desk, holding a stainless-steel travel mug. "I noticed you didn't have time for coffee this morning. The line at the campus cafe is unacceptably long. Here." He placed the mug on my desk. "Dark roast. One sugar. A dash of cinnamon."
I stared at it. It was a peace offering and a tracking beacon all in one. "Thanks," I said, my voice flat. I made no move to take it.
Sage seemed unbothered by my lack of enthusiasm. "There's a matter the club would like to investigate. A low-priority case. We felt it would be a good... reintroduction to collaborative work." His rust-red eyes were calm, but I could see the unspoken command in them. This isn't a request.
"So much for my autonomy," I muttered, finally slinging my backpack over one shoulder.
"Autonomy is a privilege earned through demonstrated control," he replied smoothly, picking up the coffee mug and pressing it into my hands. His fingers brushed against mine, a deliberate, lingering touch. "This will help you build that control. In a structured, supportive environment."
Resistance, I was learning, was futile. It just made them double down on their "caring" rhetoric. With a sigh that came from the very depths of my soul, I accepted the mug. "Fine. What's the case?"
"A simple one," a new voice said from the doorway.
Lexi leaned against the frame, arms crossed. He was back in his element, wearing a dark utility vest over a grey shirt, a look that was both practical and subtly highlighted his hips. He held his tablet like a general holding battle plans. "The Weeping Janitor of Henderson Hall. Class-D apparition. Mostly harmless. Shows up as crying sounds and cold spots near the basement boiler room. Perfect for a beginner's field test."
"A beginner's test?" I repeated, my pride stung despite myself. "I ate a ghost in a bathroom, Lexi."
"We determined you assimilated a Class-C non-sentient residual haunt under controlled conditions," he corrected, his tone clinical. "This is different. This is an active, if weak, sentient presence. The goal isn't for you to 'eat' it. The goal is for you to sense it, track it, and with our guidance, learn to interact with it without causing a campus-wide blackout." He gave me a look that was half-challenge, half-smirk. "Think you can handle that, or do you need Sage to hold your hand?"
Before I could retort, a blur of motion and the scent of strawberries announced the third member of my personal management team.
"I'll hold his hand!" Yuki chirped, popping out from behind Lexi. He was practically vibrating with excitement, clutching a stuffed rabbit wearing a tiny ghost costume. "I brought Mr. Hops! He's our spiritual anchor for today! And I made power-up snacks!" He held up a Ziploc bag full of what looked like rock-hard, lumpy cookies. "They're made with spirit-repelling herbs! Mostly."
I looked at the three of them, standing there in a united front. Lexi with his plans, Sage with his coffee, Yuki with his cursed baked goods and a stuffed animal. This was their idea of a "low-priority," "supportive" investigation. It was a circus. And I was the main attraction.
"Okay," I said, defeated. "The janitor. Let's get this over with."
Lexi's smirk widened. "Excellent. The mission is a go. Let's move out." He turned and strode down the hall, not waiting for a reply.
Sage placed a hand on my back, gently propelling me forward. "Remember to breathe, Alex. We'll be with you every step of the way."
Yuki skipped alongside me, shoving the bag of cookies under my nose. "You should eat one now for pre-game buffs! They taste a little like dirt and regret, but the protection is worth it!"
As I was herded towards Henderson Hall, the stainless-steel mug warm in my hand, I had a grim realization. My life was no longer my own. It was a scheduled series of "structured, supportive" supernatural events, and my only choice was which flavor of overwhelming care I wanted to be smothered with that day.
The first official case file was open. And I was already the prime suspect in my own kidnapping.
Henderson Hall was the oldest building on campus, a relic of dark brick and ivy that seemed to absorb the sunlight. The air inside was thick with the smell of old wood, industrial cleaner, and something else… a damp, sorrowful chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
"Basement access is this way," Lexi announced, consulting his tablet which displayed a flickering blueprint of the building. "The thermal scans show a consistent cold spot near the boiler room that moves against air currents. Classic phantom activity."
"Ooh, it's so spooky in here!" Yuki whispered, clutching my arm with one hand and his ghost-costumed rabbit with the other. "Don't worry, Senpai. Mr. Hops and I will protect you from the sad ghost!"
Sage brought up the rear, a silent, watchful presence. He had a high-powered flashlight in one hand, its beam cutting a steady path through the gloom. "The structural integrity seems sound," he noted, his voice calm. "But watch your step, Alex. The flooring is uneven."
I was trapped in a sandwich of supernatural obsession. The buzzing in my bones, which had been a background hum all morning, began to sharpen into a distinct pull, like a fishhook lodged deep in my chest, tugging me downward. "I can feel it," I murmured, surprised by the clarity of the sensation.
"Report," Lexi said instantly, his fingers poised over his tablet. "Sensation type? Direction? Intensity on a scale of one to ten?"
"It's… a pull. Down. Towards the left." I concentrated. "Maybe a four?"
"Good. Very good," Lexi said, a note of genuine approval in his voice that, to my annoyance, sent a little spark of pride through me. "Your sensitivity is increasing. You're learning to differentiate the signal from the noise. Now, follow it. Lead the way."
They fell in behind me, letting me take the lead down the final, narrow flight of stairs into the basement proper. The air grew colder, the sorrowful feeling intensifying until it felt like a physical weight. The buzzing was a steady drone now, a low-grade current running through my skeleton.
The basement was a labyrinth of pipes, dusty storage, and humming machinery. The single, bare bulb overhead did little to push back the deep shadows. At the end of a long corridor, a pale, shimmering light spilled from an open doorway.
"The boiler room," Sage confirmed softly. "The epicenter."
As we approached, the sound reached us. It was the heart of the feeling—a soft, hopeless sobbing that seemed to come from the walls themselves. It was a sound that could break your heart if you listened too long.
Yuki, for once, was completely silent, his eyes wide.
Lexi had a digital recorder out. "The Weeping Janitor. Recorded name: Henry. Worked here for forty years until he passed away in 1978 from a heart attack. He's never been violent, just… sad."
We reached the doorway. Inside the boiler room, amidst the labyrinth of pipes, a faint, translucent figure of an old man in coveralls sat on an overturned bucket, his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent tears. The air around him was frigid.
"Okay, Alex," Lexi whispered, his clinical demeanor back in full force. "Phase two. Approach slowly. Don't try to absorb him. Just… project calm. See if you can get him to acknowledge you. Your aura should act as a stabilizer."
Right. Project calm. Easy. My heart was hammering against my ribs. I took a step into the room. The temperature plummeted. The figure didn't look up, but the sobbing quieted slightly.
"U-um… hello?" I said, my voice echoing weakly in the cavernous room.
The ghost—Henry—lifted his head. His eyes were hollow pits of sorrow. He looked directly at me, and for a second, I felt his profound loneliness, his decades of grief, wash over me. It was overwhelming. The buzzing in my bones spiked, and the single lightbulb in the room flickered.
"Alex, steady," Sage's voice was a firm anchor from the doorway. "Breathe. You are in control."
I took a deep, shuddering breath, focusing on Sage's voice, on the weight of the coffee mug I'd left with my backpack, on anything but the crushing sadness. The buzzing receded, and the light stabilized.
Henry stared at me, a flicker of confusion in his hollow eyes. He pointed a translucent finger at me, then at his own chest.
"He can feel you," Lexi murmured, fascinated. "He senses your energy. It's… soothing him."
The ghost slowly stood up from his bucket. He wasn't threatening. He just looked… curious. He took a shuffling step towards me.
And that's when Yuki decided to help.
"Hi, Mr. Ghost!" he called out, waving Mr. Hops enthusiastically. "Don't be sad! We're here to be your friends!"
The sudden noise and movement shattered the fragile connection. Henry's face contorted from confusion back into pure despair. A wave of intense cold blasted out from him, and a wrench flew off a nearby workbench, clattering against the wall.
"Yuki!" Lexi and Sage snapped in unison.
The ghost let out a mournful wail and began to fade, his form dissolving into the cold air.
"No, wait!" I said, without thinking. I took another step forward, my hand outstretched. I didn't want to absorb him. I just… didn't want him to be so alone. The buzzing in my bones shifted, no longer a pull, but a soft, radiating warmth, a gentle push of reassurance.
The ghost stopped fading. He looked at my hand, then back at my face. The sorrow in his eyes lessened, just a fraction. He gave one last, soft sigh, and then his form peacefully dissipated, the cold spot vanishing with him. The oppressive sadness lifted from the room, leaving only the hum of the boiler.
The room was silent.
Lexi looked from his now-inert EMF meter to me, his expression one of pure, unadulterated triumph. "Fascinating. You didn't assimilate. You pacified. You communicated empathy on an energetic level and facilitated a peaceful transition." He looked like he'd just been given the best gift of his life.
Sage was looking at me with a deep, unreadable pride. "You listened. You maintained control. Well done, Alex."
Yuki bounded into the room, beaming. "You did it, Senpai! You gave the sad ghost a hug with your mind! That was so cool!"
I stood there, catching my breath, the last of the warm, buzzing energy fading from my limbs. For the first time, using my power hadn't ended in terror or humiliation. It had felt… good. Right.
And as I looked at the three of them, their faces alight with victory and possession, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
I had just passed their test. And now, they would never, ever let me go.
The walk back to the P.V.S.C. clubroom felt different. The air wasn't thick with my frustration or their silent, overbearing plans. Instead, a strange, buzzing energy hung between the four of us. For the first time, it wasn't just the hum in my bones; it was the hum of shared success.
Lexi walked slightly ahead, his fingers flying across his tablet, muttering to himself. "Pacification, not assimilation... the emotional component is clearly key... the aura acts as a resonant tuning fork for spiritual states..."
Yuki skipped beside me, swinging Mr. Hops by the ear. "Did you see his face, Alex? He wasn't sad anymore at the end! You're like a supernatural therapist! We should start a business!"
Sage was a steady presence at my back, but his silence felt approving rather than oppressive. When I glanced back, he offered a small, genuine smile that made my chest feel oddly tight.
We reached the clubroom, and Lexi immediately commandeered the main whiteboard, erasing a complex equation about ectoplasmic density with a single, dramatic sweep.
"Today's data changes everything," he announced, circling the words "EMPATHIC PACIFICATION" he'd just scrawled. "The 'Alex Protocols' were a crude instrument. We're moving to a new phase. We're not just managing your emotions, Alex. We're cultivating them. Your empathy is a weapon. No, a tool. A precision instrument."
He turned to face me, his eyes gleaming. "We need to expand your emotional range. Build your resilience. If you can pacify a ghost with empathy, what could you do with focused determination? With righteous anger? With..." his smirk returned, "...unfiltered joy?"
A cold dread trickled down my spine, momentarily eclipsing the warmth of my success. "What does that mean, Lexi?"
"It means," Sage interjected, his voice calm but firm as he stepped forward, "that we continue as we have. With support. With stability." He gave Lexi a warning look. "We do not deliberately provoke 'righteous anger'."
"But the data—" Lexi started.
"The data," Sage cut him off, "shows he succeeds in a controlled, supportive environment. We will provide that environment." He turned his rust-red eyes to me, and the possessiveness in them was so stark it was almost a physical touch. "You proved today that you can learn. That you can control it. And I will ensure you have everything you need to continue."
Yuki, sensing the brewing conflict, threw himself onto the couch and patted the spot next to him. "No fighting! We're a team! And teams celebrate! Alex, come sit! You deserve cuddles after all that hard work!"
I stood frozen in the middle of the room, the center of their universe once again. Lexi wanted to dissect my newfound ability, to push it to its absolute limits. Sage wanted to wrap it in cotton wool and keep it safe in a display case. And Yuki just wanted to use it as an excuse for more physical contact.
My brief moment of triumph was over. I wasn't a partner. I was a newly discovered resource, and the debate over how to manage me had just entered a new, more intense stage.
"I don't need cuddles, Yuki," I said, my voice weary. "And I don't need my emotional range 'expanded', Lexi. I just helped a ghost. Can't that be enough for one day?"
"Of course it's enough," Sage said, his tone soothing. He walked to the kitchenette and began preparing another cup of tea, as if that was the solution to everything. "You've done more than enough. You should rest."
"But the potential—" Lexi insisted, staring at the whiteboard as if he could see the future written there.
"Will still be there tomorrow," Sage stated, the finality in his voice leaving no room for argument. He brought the tea over and pressed it into my hands. "Here. Chamomile. It will help you process the residual energy."
I looked at the mug, then at the three of them: the brilliant, amoral scientist; the smothering, protective guardian; and the affectionate, chaotic gremlin. I had walked in here a victim of my aura, and I had just taken my first real step toward controlling it. But instead of freedom, the path forward looked even more crowded.
I had proven I could be a valuable part of their team. And now, all three of them were more determined than ever to make sure I never, ever left.
The first case file was closed. But my life as the P.V.S.C.'s greatest discovery and most prized possession was just beginning. But I can't let that happen anymore.
The tea was hot and bitter in my throat, a stark contrast to the cold triumph I'd felt in the basement. I set the mug down on the table with a definitive thud, the sound cutting through their bickering.
"I'm not a tool," I said, my voice low but clear. "And I'm not a prize."
All three of them stopped and looked at me. Lexi's analytical gaze, Sage's protective stare, Yuki's wide-eyed curiosity.
"What happened down there… that was me. Not your protocols, not your support system. Me. I made a choice. I reached out, and I helped him." I looked at Lexi. "That's the data point you should be focusing on. Not how you can weaponize my empathy."
Lexi opened his mouth, a retort clearly on his lips, but I turned to Sage before he could speak.
"And I don't need to be wrapped in bubble wrap. I controlled it. On my own. I don't need you to decide what's 'enough' for me." The words felt dangerous, like challenging a mountain to a fight.
Finally, I looked at Yuki, who was watching me with a new, strange intensity. "And I appreciate the… enthusiasm. But I decide when I need cuddles, not you."
The room was utterly silent. I had drawn a line in the sand, more firmly than I ever had before. I was terrified they would just step right over it again.
To my shock, it was Lexi who spoke first. He didn't look angry. He looked… impressed. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, devoid of its usual smugness.
"A conscious, willful application of power, predicated on personal moral choice rather than reactive instinct," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a frightening new kind of hunger. "The data just got exponentially more complex. And more fascinating." He wasn't conceding; he was upgrading his entire research paradigm. I hadn't stopped him; I'd given him a new, more challenging puzzle.
Sage studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The possessiveness in his eyes didn't fade, but it shifted, hardening into something resembling respect. "You assert your boundaries," he said, his voice a low rumble. "That is a form of strength. A necessary one." He gave a single, slow nod. "I will… adjust my parameters." It wasn't a surrender; it was a tactical recalibration. He wasn't letting go; he was recalculating how to hold on.
Yuki, surprisingly, was the quietest. He didn't pout or protest. He just looked at me, his head tilted, a small, thoughtful smile playing on his lips. "You're different when you're like this, Senpai," he said softly. "All… sparkly and firm. I like it." His admission was the most dangerous of all. He wasn't just obsessed with the flustered boy; he was becoming obsessed with the young man finding his voice.
I hadn't won my freedom. I had simply changed the terms of my captivity. They weren't letting me go; they were becoming obsessed with this new, defiant version of me.
"We'll do it your way, Alex," Lexi declared, turning back to the whiteboard and writing "CONSCIOUS COGNITIVE CONTROL" in large, bold letters. "For now. We'll focus on your intentional use of power. But the training continues. The world isn't going to get less dangerous."
"And my support continues," Sage added, his tone leaving no doubt that this was non-negotiable. "In a manner you find… acceptable." The way he said 'acceptable' made it sound like a tightly controlled concession.
Yuki finally bounced off the couch and wrapped his arms around my waist in a quick, surprisingly non-invasive hug. "And I'll only cuddle when you give the secret signal!" he whispered before skipping back.
There was no secret signal. I knew I'd just created a new game for him.
I stood there, surrounded by them, the hum in my bones a steady, powerful thrum that felt like it was finally syncing with my own heartbeat. I had faced down a ghost and my three self-appointed guardians in the same hour, and I was still standing.
The first case file was closed. The ghost was at peace. But the war for my soul and my sanity was entering a new, more complex phase. They had seen a glimpse of the person I could become, and their obsession had deepened, transforming into something more formidable than mere scientific curiosity or overbearing care.
It was now a determination to possess, to shape, and to claim the man emerging from the scared boy they had found. And as I looked at their determined faces, I knew the hardest challenges weren't in the dark basements of Pine Valley. They were right here, in this room, and they were just getting started.
---
To Be Continue...