The night was still young when Kastimir stepped away from the Scriptorium, lantern in hand, casting a glow that fluttered softly over his path. Gian, the ghost of the pianist, had made his decision. He was ready to confront his brother, Sean, and perhaps, in doing so, lay down the weight of his unspoken sacrifices.
Kastimir hops in his 1996 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham while Gian phases through the front passenger seat. It wasn’t long before they found themselves at the mansion that belonged to Gian's family, a place the ghost once called home. Gian had led him here, and despite the stillness of the house, Kastimir could feel the tension hanging in the air.
As our librarian was about to picklock the antique door, when his ghost companion phases through and unlocks it from the inside, granting Kas passage.
The first sound they heard was the soft, melodic strains of a piano, an otherworldly concerto that seemed to transcend both time and space. The music was hauntingly beautiful—Gian’s own piece, yet the notes ended abruptly, the current musician, Sean, can't seem to find the appropriate resolution that befits this masterpiece—after all, it wasn't his.
Kastimir glanced over at Gian, who stood beside him, eyes fixed on the grand piano through the music studio's door, There was a certain peace in Gian's expression now—almost as though the music had begun to untangle the knots in his soul. But seeing his brothers' condition—that peace was fleeting.
Both bear witness to Sean's silent frustrations. He seemed distraught, liquor in one hand and unfinished musical notes on the other.
Kastimir surmised that perhaps the unfinished musical notes are connected to the unsettled matters betweem brothers.
Kastimir, noticing the distress in Sean’s face, stepped forward. “It’s a beautiful piece, don’t you think?”
Sean stiffened, a frown pulling at his lips. “Who are you?” His gaze darted to the door, his shoulders rigid. “Is... is that you, Gian? I thought I was finally done with this...”
Kastimir raised an eyebrow, sensing the deep layers of anger and pain within Sean’s voice. “I believe your brother wanted you to hear his final composition,” Kastimir replied, offering a soft smile. “He said it was for you, after all. He wanted to give you something you could never truly understand when he was alive.”
At this, Sean's face grew pale. “Stop. Don’t you dare mention his name to me,” he snapped, his voice low and furious. “You have no idea what he did.”
Kastimir remained calm, observing Sean with quiet precision. “I believe your brother’s sacrifices were born from a deep love and regret. It’s a tragedy, really.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Sean turned away, his breath shallow. “You think I don’t know that?” he hissed, his voice edged with bitterness. “Gian was always the perfect one, the one everyone adored. He was everything I wasn’t. When he decided to live his own life, I was left to cover for him. Do you have any idea how hard it is? Carrying the entire family's expectations just because your brother ran away?!" Sean tosses the bottle to the wall shattering it into a thousand pieces.
There was an awkward pause, neither Kastimir nor the ghost knew how to proceed. They just stood there quietly.
"And when he died, I thought I was finally free. But now... now our family kept trying to remind me of all that I could never be.” He slammed a fist against the wall, frustration and jealousy flooding through his body. “His unfinished piece... they wanted me to play at his funeral, ha! such audacity! I don’t need to hear his music. I don’t need anything from him.”
Kastimir tilted his head. “What’s truly bothering you, Sean? That your brother was better than you?”
Sean whirled around, eyes burning with barely contained rage. “You don’t understand. You’re just a stranger, and you’re trying to pit me against him all over again. I was always the one left behind. I was the one who had to pick up the pieces of his perfect life, the one who had to pretend like I was fine with being overshadowed.”
Kastimir paused, allowing the silence to stretch between them. Then, quietly, he spoke. “It’s not the being overshadowed that’s bothering you, is it? It’s the fact that deep down, you knew all along that your family will always compare you with your brother. That, even though he has long departed, they are still unable to see you. And that jealousy... that resentment, has been festering inside you for years.”
Sean froze, his face contorting with rage and shame. “No. I... I never resented him. I loved him, but I hated myself for never being good enough.”
Kastimir watched as the younger man’s façade crumbled. He could see it now—the years of buried resentment, the silent competition that had driven Sean into a corner. The truth was too painful for him to accept, and so he had buried it, buried his jealousy beneath the lies he told himself about loving his brother.
“You never allowed yourself to grieve, did you?” Kastimir continued, his voice gentle, yet firm. “You didn’t mourn your brother’s death. You didn’t even mourn the fact that you could never live up to him. All you did was bury those feelings deeper and deeper until they consumed you."
"Get out before I call the cops. I don't know your connection with my brother, or how you managed to get in this house. I suggest you tend to your own business, sir."
"We shall take our leave then."
"What do you mean we?"
"Oh sorry, must've been a slip of the tongue. I won't be bothrring you further," Kastimir gives a curt bow and walks away, the ghost of Gian followed suit.
"What now? You didn't solve anything," the ghost wailed.
"Oh you sweet summer child. Oozing with talent but so painfully oblivious! The human heart does not operate that way, especially when it had been scarred far too deep," Kas shot back.
"What do you suppose we do? that can't be all there is to it? Surely there's something else!"
"But of course. It'll be your turn soon enough. We just need to pay a visit to your relatives and... we'll do what ghosts do best."
"-and what do ghosts do best?"
"A good 'ol jumpscare."