Chapter 1
I’m not paid to kill you
Lovisa
I breathe in the stillness of the dead hour. My hand fumbles through my side table to grab my mobile phone. I sit slowly on the bed, sleepy demons still lingering in my head. I stretch lazily. It's 12:07 and the power is out. Talk about good luck!
I turn on the torch of my phone, and a sharp tinnitus rings in my ears. I rubbed my eyes and got up from my bed.
There are nights I spend at this hour illustrating web novels with a late-night playlist humming in the background, but tonight—tonight feels different.
"Perhaps..." I think, "I need some fresh air..." I shuffle over to my lone window, drawing the ghostly white curtains aside, and open it quietly. The cool air brushes against my cheeks, contrasting with the heat of my stuffy room. The clouds spilled over the moon which shone over me gloomily.
I was born with the powers of a necromancer. I could see and talk with them, but it was pretty much useless. After all, I can’t catch those ghosts or fight with other people. The only ghost I ever talk to is my ghost homie—Olivia and for some reasons that I don’t know, she is not here.
I lean low, resting my chin on my hands, I feel the cold window sill on my skin. I gaze at the busy highway bustling with cars even at this hour, it strikes me as beautiful, serene, and peaceful—until I saw a garbage bag tumbling down happily.
I back away. Was this guy really tossing trash out in the dead of night? Who does that? The guy living in that apartment has always struck me as a total mess, a womanizer apparently. Maybe his mother was visiting tomorrow, pushing him to resort to a last-minute cleaning strategy. I chuckled at the absurd thought and wondered how stupid I could be.
I close the window with a loud thud, retreating to my bed. I sighed, trying to shake off the unease due to the outage and that crazy garbage bag. I reach for my earbuds, scrolling through my playlist. I own a proud collection of around 300 songs and flaunt it likewise.
But do you think my imagination and paranoia will leave me like that? Do you?
I already started to think of endless possibilities of the contents of that bag. A part of me wanted to get up and examine that thing. There was a start of a crime scene in my head. My inner detective awakening inside me. Even if I don’t have any powers, I can use my brain and I will be famous for being the greatest detective. I will own the trending search over the search engines. Lovisa Ericksson—the greatest detective the humankind ever witnessed!
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I forgot about everything. I was drenched in my own sweat but my imagination is such a sweet escape to the harsh reality. It’s the best place to stay. And being a detective isn’t that bad.
As I scroll, a sudden knock at my door jolts me upright—someone is knocking in the middle of the night. The sound echoes through my empty apartment, continuous and insistent. I flinch for a moment and freeze in place, my mind going blank. The detective inside me shatters into infinite pieces.
I live on the 14th floor, the second-to-last in a building that is hardly occupied. The thought sends a chill down my spine. Who would be knocking on my door at this hour? The knocking grows louder, and more aggressive, and a shiver runs through me.
Deciding to stay quiet, I slip nimbly into the kitchen, my breath harsh and ragged, betraying me with every exhale. I grab the kitchen knife; it almost slips through my sweaty palm. I am not sure whether to call the police or not. What if he is the guy from the upper floor? No—I am in hysterics, walking back and forth in my little room, not knowing where to go. I can feel the demons under my bed go like—what the hell is happening?
Suddenly, my phone buzzes. It's Adriel.
*****
Adriel: Lovisa, you still awake?
Me: There's a freak outside my
door and they won’t stop
knocking.
.
Adriel: What? Are you okay?
Me: You think?
Adriel: To think you can't deal with some pests...
Me: More like I don't wanna die!
Adriel: You are helpless...
I am coming over, so don’t sulk a lot, princess.
*****
I step out of my bedroom and stand in front of the door, holding my breath. The knocking has stopped, but my heart is still pounding, the silence thick and oppressive. I dash back into my room, crouching by my side table to retrieve my watch—simple on the outside, but with a hidden location tracker. Adriel's gift.
I glanced at myself in the mirror. My lavender hair were a mess as they hung loose over my shoulder. My teal eyes were begging for sleep. My zebra-striped night suit hung to my figure.
I was in particular a mess. Regardless, I turn around and freeze, the breath leaving my body.
A tall figure stands in the corner of my room, draped in a ghostly white hooded cloak. He blends into the curtains, motionless, his face shrouded in shadow. I didn’t notice him in the mirror. I looked back at the mirror and saw his reflection—crystal clear.
My pulse hammers as I clutch the knife tighter.
"A knife..." he scoffs softly, his voice cold. “That won't help you."
My eyes dart toward him, catching a glint of a twisted grin beneath the hood. My limbs shake as I stagger back, the knife handles digging into my sweaty palm.
I force out a shaky breath. "Why don't you just kill me and leave me alone?" My voice trembles, but the words spill out before I can stop them.
He tilts his head slightly, his grin widening. "I can't." He shrugs casually, his voice low. "I'm not paid to kill you."