"Let's scare them before they scare me, shall we?"
I say it way too confidently for someone whose survival rate is basically a meme.
I tug on my jacket, straighten my back, and stride in.
Mira walks ahead like a walking execution notice.
Fenn is on my other side, ears perked, tail low but present—like a "do not touch the human" warning label with fur.
One step.
Two steps.
Third step—
my spine folds.
My shoulders curl.
By step five I've unconsciously drifted half a body behind Mira like she's my emotional riot shield, while Fenn ends up slightly ahead, like a guard dog that lost the memo about subtlety.
So much for scaring anyone.
The doors open fully.
The Orientation Hall is huge.
Tiered rows.
Floating lanterns.
Ghost-blue light spilling over seats filled with—
Ghosts.
Spirits.
Reapers.
Witches.
Things with too many eyes.
Things with no eyes at all.
All of them turn.
All of them look.
At me.
Silence rolls across the hall like a slow, heavy wave.
Mira walks forward like she doesn't notice three dozen death-gazes on us.
I stay glued to her back, using her like a moving wall.
Fenn paces on my other side for a few steps, then veers off toward a section crowded with beast spirits, glancing back at me every couple seconds like a worried dog watching its human cross a highway.
Whispers start.
"Is that—?"
"The human?"
"Alive?"
"Why is he behind a reaper?"
"Why does he look like he regrets every choice he's ever made?"
Fair. Completely fair.
The system pings.
⸻
[Main Quest Updated: ATTEND ORIENTATION (ALIVE)]
Sub-Objective Added:
[Do Not Cry In Front Of Everyone.]
Reward: +1 Haunt Point, Minimal Humiliation
Penalty: Social Trauma (Long-Term)
⸻
"A little late on that," I mutter.
Mira stops in the center aisle.
Up front, on a raised platform, a handful of faculty stand.
I recognize one:
Professor Umbra—the homeroom teacher who looked at me earlier like I was an unscheduled explosion.
He looks even more stressed now.
Beside him:
Nurse Sanguina, smiling like this is premium entertainment.
A serious witch I don't know.
A stone golem.
And—
Floating slightly above them all in a seated position, half-corporeal, crowned with faint echoing light—
A girl.
Long silver hair drifting like it's underwater.
Eyes like pale blue lanterns.
A dress that keeps glitching between styles, like it's remembering different centuries.
Aeria Wraithborn.
The ghost princess.
Her gaze locks on me.
The air around her trembles. Just a little.
I immediately pretend I don't notice.
I stare very hard at the floor.
Mira nudges my arm.
I jolt.
"Stand properly," she murmurs. "You look like you're about to bolt."
"I am about to bolt," I whisper back.
"Don't."
"Good talk."
Professor Umbra steps forward, clears his throat, and the hall gradually quiets.
"Students," he begins, voice echoing faintly. "Welcome to another term at The Venerable Haunting Academy. As you are aware, this cycle's intake includes several unusual cases."
Several sets of eyes flick to me.
I want to die.
Not literally.
…Okay, maybe a little.
Umbra continues, fingers tightening around his notes.
"One such anomaly…" he says reluctantly, "requires… formal introduction by policy."
The system flickers.
⸻
[Attention: You Are About To Be Introduced.]
[Recommendation: Do Not Fall Over.]
⸻
Mira shifts just enough to block some of the stares.
It helps.
A little.
Professor Umbra looks directly at me now.
His eye twitches.
"Luka Vale," he says, "please step forward."
Great.
Fantastic.
Of course.
My legs feel like noodles that failed a bravery check.
Every supernatural gaze sharpens.
Up in the beast section, Fenn half-rises, ears forward, tail stiff.
Aeria's form flickers—interest? Curiosity?
Behind us, the doors click shut.
No escape.
⸻
[CRITICAL MOMENT FLAGGED.]
[Choice: How Will You Present Yourself?]
⸻
I stay behind Mira's shoulder for a heartbeat longer.
There is no way I am standing up front.
Yes, Umbra said my name.
Yes, the whole hall is staring.
But I cling to Mira's aura-shadow like it's the last bit of cover in a battlefield.
Mira's fingers tighten on my sleeve.
"Luka," she mutters. "Go."
Isn't this the most human thing I can do?
Avoid public attention. Pretend I didn't hear. Fuse with the nearest competent adult.
She tugs harder.
I wobble.
"Go," she repeats.
I sigh, quietly dramatic.
"Fine," I mumble. "If I die, I'm haunting this place with paperwork."
I peel myself off Mira like a sticker off glass and force my legs to move.
I stand.
Reluctantly.
Like gravity just tripled.
And I walk.
Down the central aisle.
Past rows of ghosts, spirits, witches, reapers, and assorted nightmares who could erase me from existence for extra credit.
I say nothing.
Because seriously—
What do you want me to say?
"Hi, I'm Luka, I choked on a tapioca pearl and now I'm here illegally"?
No. Thank you.
So I default to the only tool I have left:
I smile.
I force out my most humble, innocent, soft human smile.
Or at least that's the plan.
The reactions say otherwise.
A shiver runs through the hall.
One ghost visibly recoils.
A spirit beast fluffs up their fur.
A witch slowly lowers her pen.
A reaper's hand pauses like they almost reached for a weapon.
…Oh.
The system pings, way too cheerfully:
⸻
[Notice: Host's Facial Expression Has Been Interpreted As 'Threatening.']
[Clarification: Your Smile Is Menacing.]
[Recommendation: Attempt Neutral Face.]
⸻
I freeze mid-step.
Menacing?
That was my nice face.
I try to relax it.
Drop the smile.
Neutral.
Soft.
Harmless.
The system updates immediately:
⸻
[Notice: Host's Neutral Expression Registered As 'Emotionless Threat.']
[…We Don't Know How To Help You.]
⸻
Great.
Fantastic.
My face is committing social crimes on its own.
I reach the front and stop beside Professor Umbra.
The entire hall watches me like I'm a live grenade someone brought to show-and-tell.
Umbra clears his throat, voice raised.
"This," he says, clearly suffering, "is Luka Vale. A… living human. Due to… unusual circumstances, he is currently enrolled here under special observation."
Whispers explode.
"Living?"
"How?"
"Is that allowed?"
"Is that dangerous?"
"Why is he smiling like that?"
I kill what's left of my smile.
"I—" Umbra starts, then visibly decides letting me talk is a bad idea. "He is under the personal supervision of Reaper Trainee Mira Thanatiel and Nurse Sanguina. Do not—under any circumstances—attempt to consume him, bind him, trade him, or experiment on him."
Several students shift uncomfortably.
One witch actually deflates in disappointment.
I raise my hand, weakly.
"Hi," I say.
Just that.
Just "Hi."
The sound echoes.
Too small.
Too mortal.
A few ghosts shudder.
An aura tremor rolls through the room.
The system pings.
⸻
[Mini-Quest Complete: STAND IN FRONT OF EVERYONE WITHOUT FAINTING]
Reward: +1 Haunt Point
[New Status: 'Suspiciously Calm Human']
⸻
Suspiciously calm.
Ha.
If only they knew.
Up on the platform, Aeria Wraithborn tilts her head slightly, eyes narrowing like she's tuning her perception.
Her lips part—
Like she's about to say something.
Before she does, the ghost-blue light above us dips.
A pressure settles over the hall.
Old. Heavy. Familiar.
The Venerable Haunt is watching.
Not manifested, but present—his attention pressing against my skin like a cold fingertip, heavy and prickling, like being stared at by those cosmic pincushion eyes from every direction at once.
⸻
[Attention: Catastrophe-Class Entity Is Observing The Host.]
[Further Attention: You Are Now A Point Of Interest.]
[Recommended Action: Do Not Do Anything Extremely Human.]
⸻
What does that even mean?
The system flickers again, like it just remembered something important and deeply unhelpful.
⸻
[MAIN QUEST REMINDER: PROVE THE LIVING CAN STAY]
Deadline: 7 days
Condition: Survive & Demonstrate Your Value
Reward: Enrollment
Failure: Banishment or DEATH
⸻
"Thanks for dutifully reminding me of my impending death," I whispered under my breath.
⸻
[...Happy to help.]
⸻
Professor Umbra plows on with the orientation like this is somehow normal.
It's not.
Not for me.
Definitely not.
I stand there, hyper-aware of every blink, every inhale.
Mira is one step behind and to the side now—cold aura ghosting against my back.
Support and warning in one.
Fenn is somewhere to my left up in the beast section, leaning so far forward I'm worried she'll fall over the railing.
As professors cycle through the usual:
"Do not destroy the structural fabric of the Academy."
"Do not consume your classmates."
"Do not open unsupervised rifts."
"Clubs will be recruiting."
—I feel eyes drifting back to me.
Curious.
Uneasy.
Hungry.
Interested.
And then—
Right beside me—
A whisper:
"You look… different up close."
I flinch, just slightly.
I turn my head.
Aeria Wraithborn is closer.
She's stepped down—or phased down—from the platform without actually walking, her form hovering just above the floor, edges soft but defined.
Her eyes glow steady pale blue.
She's looking straight at me.
Studying.
Measuring.
"…Human," she murmurs. "Truly."
My mouth goes dry.
I have three options immediately:
Answer her.
Pretend I didn't hear.
Panic and say something stupid.
The system chimes in, because of course it does:
⸻
[New Interaction Detected: GHOST PRINCESS — AERIA WRAITHBORN]
[Recommended Response: Non-Terrifying, Non-Romantic, Non-Stupid.]
⸻
So, basically: nothing I'm good at.
Aeria waits.
I smile.
"Hi."
Instant regret.
Right. The smile. Crime against social stability.
I abort it halfway, my mouth flattening into something probably worse.
Let's recall: Cool and Suave 101.
A beauty is in front of me.
A literal ghost princess.
Ancient. Untouchable. Radiating quiet power and expensive trauma.
But still… a beauty.
"Indeed," I say, trying to sound composed, "I am human. Alive. Well. How are you?"
…
Silence.
My brain screams.
IS THAT REALLY THE BEST I CAN SAY!? IT'S NOT EVEN A SENTENCE.
Aeria just looks at me.
Not offended.
Not amused.
Just quietly, deeply confused.
Her form stabilizes a little—edges sharper, hair drifting slower.
"…You are asking how I am?" she says softly.
Her voice is calm, elegant, echoing like it's coming from far away and right next to me at the same time.
"Yes," I say, doubling down on stupidity. "That's… what people do. Where I'm from."
Her eyes search my face like she's looking for the trick.
"Where you're from," she repeats, "are you in the practice of asking the dead about their well-being?"
The system appears again, utterly useless:
⸻
[Note: Typical Human Social Custom Detected: Small Talk]
[Warning: Target Is A High-Rank Echo Entity]
[Risk: 72% Chance Of Saying Something Stupid]
⸻
"Already there, buddy," I mutter under my breath.
Aeria's gaze softens. Just a fraction.
"I am…" she begins, then pauses. Her eyes flick upward, distant. "I am… as I have been. For some time."
That sounds like the most depressing "I'm fine" I've ever heard.
I nod slowly.
"Persistent," I say. "That's… something."
To my shock, a tiny huff escapes her.
Not quite a laugh.
But close.
Her fingers curl slightly, like she's holding onto something invisible to keep steady.
"You are… very strange," she murmurs.
"Common review," I say. "Feel free to leave a rating."
Her head tilts, silver hair flowing.
"You are not afraid of me," she says.
I am.
I absolutely am.
But she's looking at me like she expects fear. Like that's the default response. Like anything else doesn't fit.
"I'm afraid of a lot of things," I answer honestly. "Just… not you. Not right now."
Her glow wavers.
For a second, her edges blur—like my words hit somewhere they weren't meant to.
"…Foolish," she says quietly. "But… interesting."
The system pings:
⸻
[Relationship Flag Updated: AERIA WRAITHBORN — CURIOSITY +1]
[Note: Target Shows Signs Of Emotional Resonance]
[Advice: Try Not To Break Her]
⸻
Up on the dais, someone starts droning about class placements and schedules, but Aeria doesn't look away from me.
"Luka Vale," she says, tasting my name like she's testing it against old memory. "You do not belong here. And yet… here you stand."
"Believe me," I whisper, "this was not on my course selection."
Her lips twitch.
Barely.
Her gaze slides past me—to Mira behind my shoulder, ice-still.
To Fenn in the stands, watching like a guard dog with trust issues.
Aeria's glow cools, just slightly.
"Be cautious," she says suddenly.
My stomach drops.
"…Of what?" I ask.
Her eyes hold mine.
"Everything."
Not reassuring.
Before I can respond, the lights above us flare once.
Aeria's form pulls back—drawn toward the dais, dissolving gently into the ambient Echo.
She withdraws without walking.
Her attention lingers a second longer—
then releases.
Orientation wraps up in a blur.
"Do not collapse the tri-realm structure."
"Do not weaponize your classmates."
"Detention is not survivable without supervision."
"Join clubs."
Students stand.
Seats scrape.
Auras expand.
Ghosts unwrap themselves from benches.
Spirits stretch.
Reapers disappear as quietly as they arrived.
I'm still at the front.
Alive.
Confused.
Apparently menacing when I smile.
Mira steps closer, voice low.
"Survived," she says.
"Physically," I answer. "Emotionally? Debatable."
Her eyes flick once toward where Aeria had been, then back to me.
"There will be classes soon," she says. "You'll be assigned a homeroom. You must learn not to… attract so much attention."
I glance at the crowd, then at my own very human hands.
"Yeah," I say. "I'll just stop existing loudly."
Fenn pushes through a group of spirit beasts and appears at my side, tail swishing, eyes scanning me like she's checking for injuries.
"You're still in one piece," she says. "Good. I was ready to bite someone."
"Great to know I inspire such calm," I say.
The system flickers.
⸻
[Notice: Orientation Complete]
Reward: +1 Haunt Point
[Haunt Points: Updated.]
New Quest Available:
[Find Your Assigned Dorm / Don't Get Lost / Don't Get Eaten]
⸻
Of course.
Because why not.
The hall keeps emptying.
Ghost light chills the air.
And I'm standing between:
Mira—cold, analytical, faintly concerned.
Fenn—warm, instinct-driven, definitely attached.
A ghost princess who just warned me about everything.
And an Academy that will eat me alive if I let it.
"So… supervisor Mira."
The title comes out half-joking, half-resigned. I tilt my head up at her and force a small smile.
"What class do I go to first?"
She looks down at me like she's checking for new anomalies.
"You do not pick your own first class," she says. "You report. To me."
Ouch.
She gestures toward the corridor outside the hall.
"Your provisional schedule begins with Hauntology—Professor Umbra's class. Homeroom," she adds. "You were assigned there before… everything else happened."
"Before I choked on a tapioca pearl and became campus policy?" I mumble.
Her eye twitches, but she continues.
"You will attend Hauntology. After that, the administration will evaluate whether your presence can be tolerated in basic courses: Spirit Biology, Hexcraft Foundations, Reaper Ethics—"
"Reaper Ethics?" I repeat. "Do they teach 'please don't harvest your classmates' as a module or…?"
"Yes," she says, completely serious.
Oh.
Fenn leans in on my other side, tail swishing.
"What he means is," she says, "are you following him there right now? Or am I?"
Mira's gaze sharpens. "I am his assigned supervisor."
"I'm his wolf," Fenn counters.
"You imprinted on him because his emotional state smelled like a disaster," Mira says.
Fenn puffs her cheeks. "Pack is pack."
I stand there between them, very aware I am the disputed custody object in this conversation.
The system helpfully pings:
⸻
[New Sub-Quest: ATTEND YOUR FIRST CLASS WITHOUT BEING KIDNAPPED BY A FACTION]
Reward: +1 Haunt Point, Slightly Less Chaos
Penalty: Territorial Conflict
⸻
"Great. Love that phrasing," I mutter.
Mira ignores the pop-up only she can't see.
"You will come with me to the Mortal Wing," she says. "Professor Umbra will finalize your placement. Until then, you will not wander alone."
Fenn's ears flick.
"I can walk with you," she says quickly. "Spirit Wing connects near Mortal Wing. I was going that way anyway."
"You were not," Mira says flatly.
"I am now."
They lock eyes.
Again.
I feel the temperature drop on one side and rise on the other.
Nope.
Not round two. Not here.
"Hey," I cut in, lifting my hands. "Let's not trigger another anxiety gacha moment, okay? I used up my premium luck already."
Mira exhales, slow.
"Fine. She can accompany us," she says, like the words physically hurt.
Fenn brightens, tail wagging once like a small victory flag.
We step out of the Orientation Hall into the wide corridor, students streaming past us—ghosts melting through walls, spirits laughing too loudly, a witch arguing with a floating book, a reaper senior glancing my way like I'm a particularly annoying math problem.
Mira walks ahead, posture straight, aura cold.
Fenn matches my pace at my side, occasionally glancing up at me, like she's counting my breaths.
I walk between them, trying to look normal.
Spoiler: I don't.
The Academy feels different now.
Less like a nightmare, more like… a maze that heard I exist and is adjusting its difficulty.
Lanterns flicker as I pass.
A few whispers follow:
"Human."
"That's him."
"Alive…"
I keep my gaze forward.
"So…" I try again, lightly. "Supervisor Mira. Hauntology first. Anything I should know? Simple rules? Don't explode? Don't faint? Don't insult the dead?"
She glances back.
"Do not touch anything that glows," she says. "Do not speak to any Echo without warning. Do not accept pacts, contracts, or snacks from upperclassmen. Do not bleed in class."
"Those are very specific," I say.
"They are very common mistakes."
Fenn chimes in, cheerful:
"And if something tries to sit on your desk and scream? Don't run. It's probably just a minor haunt spirit testing dominance."
"That's… supposed to be comforting?" I ask.
She nods. "Means you're interesting."
The system flickers.
⸻
[Notice: First Class Approaching.]
[Hauntology 101 — Basic Haunting Theory & Emotional Anchors]
[Risk Assessment: 78% Chance Of Embarrassing Yourself]
⸻
I inhale slowly.
Okay.
First class.
This is fine.
Totally not terrifying at all.
Probably.
We hit a junction in the hallway.
Left: toward the Mortal Wing classrooms.
Right: the path curves toward the Spirit Wing—the air a little warmer, scents sharper, more beast spirits moving in that direction.
Somewhere behind us, faintly, I can still feel the echo of Aeria's gaze from the hall.
Ahead, I feel Umbra's nervous aura like a cloud of academic dread.
Mira stops at the fork.
"Luka," she says. "We go left. Umbra is waiting."
Fenn hesitates, shifting her weight.
"I was supposed to check in at Spirit Biology," she says, glancing to the right. "My pack placement, territory map, aura drills…"
Her eyes flick to me.
Then to Mira.
"I can… join later," she says slowly. "Or I can walk him to the door. Or I can wait outside. Or—"
Mira cuts in. "You will go to your assigned class, Fenriselle."
Fenn's ears flatten.
This is the absolute time for Suave 101, and colder-than-the-dead mode, to come into play.
I straighten.
Back straight. Shoulders relaxed. Chin slightly up.
I puff my chest out and wave my hair in the air like there's actually enough of it to wave.
"Don't worry, Fenn. I will see you later."
Her ears flick.
Her eyes widen just a bit.
There were definitely pheromones flying around me, and my eyes were definitely shining, like pika pika kinda thing.
In my head, anyway.
In reality, I probably look like a sleep-deprived raccoon trying to cosplay confidence.
Fenn's cheeks tint the faintest pink. Her tail gives one sharp wag before she catches herself.
"O-okay," she says, trying to sound casual and failing. "I'll… sniff you out later."
That… sounded a lot more intense than she probably meant.
Fenn hovers a step back, glancing between us and the flow of beast spirits heading the other way.
Her tail gives a conflicted swish.
"I should go," she murmurs. "Spirit Biology. If I'm late, they'll make me wrestle something to prove I'm not slow."
"That sounds illegal," I say.
"That sounds normal," Mira counters.
Fenn's gaze settles on me.
"If someone scares you," she says, "just… call. Or scream. I'll smell it."
That is both deeply terrifying and weirdly comforting.
I offer her my best attempt at a not-menacing smile.
"I'll try not to scream in class. But I'll keep that in mind."
She hesitates.
Then steps closer and lightly boops my sleeve with her knuckles.
"See you later, human," she says.
"See you later, wolf," I reply.
Her ears turn red.
She spins on her heel and bolts toward the Spirit Wing, tail rigidly not-wagging.
She vanishes around a corner.
Mira watches all of this with the exhausted soul of someone watching a car drive slowly into a lake.
"Your priorities are skewed," she says. "Class. Now."
She turns left toward the Mortal Wing.
I jog a half-step to catch up.
"Hey, Mira… can't you at least wait before drag—woah! Hey! Slow down! I'm… falling!"
My foot catches on absolutely nothing.
I slip.
I fall on my ass.
"H-hey!"
The sound echoes down the corridor like a rejected slapstick track.
A couple of passing ghosts pause to stare.
One of them whispers, "Is that normal human locomotion?"
The system pings, deeply unhelpful:
⸻
[Skill Check Failed: SUAVE 101]
Result: Prone (Embarrassing)
[Status Effect Gained: Tailbone Regret (Temporary)]
⸻
"Wow," I mutter. "Thanks for the support."
Mira half-turns.
Her eyes travel from my face to the floor to the faint dignity stain I've left behind.
She sighs.
Not loud.
Not cruel.
Just… tired.
Then she reaches down, grabs my wrist, and hauls me back to my feet with one smooth, reaper-efficient motion.
"Walk," she says. "Slowly. With awareness."
"I was walking with awareness," I grumble. "Awareness that gravity hates me."
Mira releases my wrist, but her aura stays close—cold, steady, like a shadow glued to my back.
We move again.
Left, into the Mortal Wing.
The hallways here feel… different from the rest of the Academy.
Less warped than the Echo corridors.
Less wild than the Spirit side.
But still wrong.
Walls lined with floating chalk diagrams.
Doors that blink their room numbers.
A staircase that politely refuses to go down when you look at it.
Mira leads us toward a particular classroom door where ghost-blue letters flicker above the frame:
HAUNTOLOGY 101 — BASIC THEORY OF HAUNTING & ANCHOR DYNAMICS
INSTRUCTOR: PROFESSOR UMBRA
Great.
The same man who introduced me like a walking insurance problem.
Students file in ahead of us—transparent, fanged, floating, antlered, winged, cloaked.
A few glance back at me.
Stare.
Whisper.
"Human?"
"Why is he in Hauntology?"
"Do humans haunt?"
"Maybe he's pre-installed."
I pretend not to hear any of it.
The system flickers beside my head like a guilty conscience.
⸻
[New Class Detected: HAUNTOLOGY 101]
[Auto-Quest Generated: SURVIVE YOUR FIRST LESSON]
Objective:
• Don't die
• Don't get possessed
• Don't trigger a demonstration
Reward: +1 Haunt Point
Penalty: Unknown (Educational Trauma Likely)
⸻
Mira stops just to the side of the doorway and looks back at me.
"This is where I leave you," she says.
Oh.
That hits harder than it should.
"Already?" I ask. "No walkthrough tutorial? No tooltips? No safety manual?"
"I will return when class ends," she says. "Umbra will not allow your death. He is… annoyingly cautious."
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," I say.
Mira looks at me—concern? Killing intent? Or concern that she won't get to kill me herself?
"Do not," she says flatly, "get eaten."
"I'll… do my best?" I say.
She gives a curt nod, turns, and walks away, coat dissolving into the flow of other reapers like she was never there.
And then it's just me.
Me.
A door.
And a classroom full of non-living entities who probably think I'm a lab example.
I take a breath.
Then another.
My hand hovers near the doorframe.
The door is half-open.
Shadows and ghost-light flicker inside.
I can hear Umbra's nervous shuffle.
A low ghostly murmur.
A chair moving on its own.
My fingers curl around the edge of the door.
Here goes nothing.