Sorry

I'm unsure of what happened after that. He leaped at me suddenly. Before I could scream, he moved behind me, quick as a flash. I managed to stab him in the thigh, but before I could react again, he struck me hard on the neck, and everything went black.

Now, I find myself stuffed inside an uncomfortable bag, the rough jute scraping painfully against my skin. Oddly, I feel calmer than before. After all, it wouldn't be a surprise if my life finally came to a full stop. Though I have to admit—I hate waking up again after I'd already made up my mind that I wouldn't. But I'm stubborn too. I kick against the bag with all my might and drive my elbow hard into his back. Frustratingly, he doesn't even let out a moan. Then he drops me with a thud and unzips the bag. I jumped out like a maniac, my first instinct was to run. But before I can get far, he grabs my hand tightly. I struggle, barely aware of where I even am.

"Just take a look at where you are." he sighs, still holding on as I desperately smack his hand, trying to break free from his grip.

A huge realization washes over me—I’m in a corridor and few people clad in black are staring at me.

"Where am I?" I shout with all I have.

He drags me to a room as I struggle like an animal. He opens the door leading to a cell and locks me inside. I lean against the cold wall and notice spider webs clinging to the corners. At least the cell is relatively clean.

Next, I examine my clothes and see a spray of crimson blood on my pajama near the calf. It must be his blood. I tremble in fear, but pride surges through me for having him harmed, even if just a little. Being a low-grade necromancer is a waste as I can't summon spirits for my defense and I am grateful that he didn't use his abilities on me. I glanced at my hand, the watch was still with me, and so Adriel knew my location. Perhaps he'll blow up this place with a hurricane or something. I mean, he's reckless and he can manipulate winds. Unlike me, who can just see some petty ghosts.

He hacked me to be my friend and is a dedicated fan of mine. I thought he was a creep at first and even thought to report him to the cops but then he was a nice guy despite holding a lovely reputation in the underground world. If he saves me today then I probably owe him a portrait of –

Hold on. Someone is watching over me. I can feel it. It's not a human... maybe a ghost?

I swung my head downwards and sighed, it was a presence of a spirit.

"I know you’re here.” I said in an irritated tone.

The spirit perhaps moved an inch I suppose but it didn't show up. That's how mediocre ghosts are. I was disappointed, if it were to be a violent, malicious spirit, it would attack me right away and then the guards or someone would open the gate and—that would be my escape. I will have to tolerate some injuries that way but its fine.

"Listen. I have no Ouija to talk with you, I can see you if you come out of that goddamn wall." I said, my voice laced with frustration.

I was hoping to at least gain some information from this pathetic passerby ghost because Olivia gave me all sort of gossips and news. Maybe this ghost could tell me something useful rather than blabbering about how he died. I once met an old ghost who told me his sad life story and lectured me for my rash behavior. It was such an unpleasant memory to be honest and he went on for hours until he became bored and walked away abruptly. There is a limit to mood swings but some people don’t have any.

After some time, I swear I saw a head pop out of the wall. I almost jumped up, looking at the ghost who had a dirty face and deep blue messy hair. His sapphire eyes still shone in a weird yet calming way.

"You- can see me?" The ghost asked me with a perplexed expression on his face.

"Of course, I'm a necromancer after all." I shrugged.

Perhaps he died recently and doesn't know much about the ghost realm. But it's none of my business because I'll make sure I don't end up like one.

"What is this place?" I inquired.

"Karma's headquarters. Like, they are a mafia group or sort of." The ghost replied and sat down beside me.

"You were killed by them?" I asked. I was now curious about this guy.

"I killed myself, I was a spy." He shrugged nonchalantly as if dying is the most normal thing he can experience.

"I see..." I replied, "So, Mr. – uh..."

"Quentin de Luca" He replied.

"Fine Quentin," I paused, "Do you seek revenge?"

"No. Why?" he looked at me innocently.

I was taken aback by this man’s casual demeanor. I was partially jealous of his calm and aloof nature because if I were at his place, I would have killed my killers till now.

"So, why are you still lurking as a ghost? Why didn't you move on?" I inquired frustrated.

"For fun. If that counts?" He rolled his eyes.

I sighed. He doesn’t take this all seriously. But this is my chance, my chance to get him help me for I, ladies and gentlemen, had a fantastic idea in my mind.

I leaned in closer, my voice excited but low, "Let me help you kill the guy who was the cause of your death."

*****

"Wait, whom is she even talking to?"

A brown-haired guy with an unshaven chin in his mid-20s looked amused over the large screen. It was the surveillance room.

The man in a white cloak from before leaned against the wall, well merged within the envelope of darkness. His face was visible even in the dark, especially his icy grey eyes and snow white hair parted carefully on the right.

The guy in brown spun on his chair and casually stretched.

"Blizzard," he moaned, "Did you bring a maniac?"

"More or less." He replied in his deep, husky voice.

"You..." he was dumbfounded, "Could have finished her off, you know."

"Behemoth didn't pay me for that." He walked across the room and grabbed an apple on the table at the far end of the room.

"He will be infuriated when he knows —"

"Do I care?" He snapped and tossed the apple, which he only took one bite of, in the trash can.

"Mind you," he continued, "It's not me who needs him, he needs me."

*****

Quentin looked at me awkwardly and then... he burst out laughing like an idiot.

"You kill them? Are you even capable of that?" He chuckled. His laughs echoed through the empty cell.

Infuriating! I wonder if I can beat him up right now. Maybe there is a way to punch ghosts?

Suddenly, a bright light fell over me, the gate opened with a huge roaring sound and I didn't like that. There in front of me were several men. I half expected to see that bastard in white cloak, but he wasn't there. Instead, a brown-haired guy came toward me, the rest of them stayed behind. The light from outside was pretty much blinding that I couldn't study his face but regardless he was handsome, I’ll give him that. Quentin and I shot glances at each other as the man stood in the center of the room.

"Mind if I join you in your little self-talk?" he chuckled at me.

Oh, he mustn't know I was talking to a ghost. And then Quentin came behind me, and whispered in my ear, "He's Walter Uhlmann, and his codename is ECHO."

"No." I replied firmly, "I would love to be left alone."

He grinned at me and bent down. Before I knew it, his cold amber eyes collided with my pitch-black eyes. He held my chin in his hands and forced me to look at him, "You will die soon." He said and waited, perhaps waiting for my reaction but I looked at him indifferently.

"Blizzard will ruin your pretty face like that... Maybe if you become my toy then-

I head-butt him the moment he spilled those words. I looked back at Quentin, who luckily cooperated. He used his powers and a sparkling, scalding jet of blue water, blue as his eyes, dragged all the men away.

I realized — He's strong. But then, people who killed him... are stronger?

He came from behind and broke the cuffs. I quickly got up, not wasting another minute. He led me to a sort of storeroom and pointed at a vent in the ceiling. He was perhaps worried about how I would reach there and before he found a ladder, I was already in the vent. I just climbed one of the shelves and went inside there. It was a risky gamble but it worked.

I was crawling in the vent when he poked his face out in the narrow vent right in front of me.

"Holy —" I gasped. "You almost got me."

"Perks of being a ghost." He winked.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked softly, my eyes filled with gratitude.

“I am bored.” He said straight away.

“You’re bored, so you’re helping me?” I looked at him skeptically.

He just shrugged, “I can be a little hero for the time being.”

There was silence for a few minutes. I was not appreciating the fact that he helped me for his own entertainment rather than genuinely helping me out, but I was feeling relaxed that he seemed to have no ulterior moves behind his actions. I crawled a bit further and remarked, "I think you became stronger after you died."

It was my theory to justify him wiping off those guys despite having died at the hands of people from the same organization.

"No, my powers diminished than before."

"So... how are you gonna fight those guys if they —"

"Sorry." He mumbled.

I was speechless. Did he just mumbled an apology? Does he think this is some circus? How dare he experiment with my life?

"Now you gotta be kidding me." I mumbled frustrated.

And then, an inch away from me an icicle popped from below, tearing the vent and my cheek's flesh simultaneously. I felt the cold piercing touch with a minor pain and there was a crimson trail flowing from my cheek.

Now, I never really wanted to die frozen like an ice cream and yes, I laughed.