CH2 The Girl in the White Summer Dress

Suddenly, a deafening, stomach-churning *thud* erupted from the front of the car. The force of the collision sent a violent jolt through the vehicle, knocking the breath from my lungs. The tires screeched more intensely as the car skidded uncontrollably. The world outside the windows smeared into a blur of colors, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to freeze.

Then, it happened—the car began to tilt, and everything was thrown upside down. The world spun around me in a slow, disorienting swirl, as if gravity had lost its hold. I felt as if I were floating in a nightmare where up and down no longer had any meaning. The nauseating sensation of tumbling head over heels filled me with deep, visceral fear. I glimpsed fragments of the chaos: a friend’s flailing arm, the crumpling roof of the car, shards of glass suspended in

mid-air like deadly confetti.

I was unable to scream. The terror had stolen my voice, leaving me only with the pounding of my heart, echoing loudly in my ears. My mind was a blank, overwhelmed and unable to

comprehend the situation. The sole thought that cut through the chaos was the grim realization that this might be the end, that survival seemed impossible.

I tried to gather my bearings. The car was completely still, but the interior was distorted— everything upside down and jumbled. I was alone in the vehicle, the once-lively atmosphere

now replaced by an eerie silence. My friends, who had been so full of energy just moments ago, were nowhere in sight. Fear gripped me as I realized the severity of the situation.

I fumbled with the seatbelt, my hands shaking as I tried to free myself. My fingers were clumsy and numb, but I finally managed to release the buckle. I tumbled down onto the roof of the car, landing awkwardly on what used to be the ceiling. The impact left me winded, but I couldn’t afford to stay still. I needed to get out, to find out what had happened.

I crawled towards the broken window, the jagged edges of the glass scraping against my skin as I pulled myself through the narrow opening. My vision was still doubled, the world outside spinning as I tried to stand. The ground felt unsteady beneath me, and I swayed, struggling to

keep my balance.

I attempted to call out, but my voice was weak, barely more than a croak. I began to walk, or rather stumble, down the road, every step feeling like I was moving through quicksand. The

darkness around me was thick, and it was hard to see anything beyond a few feet in front of me.

Then, in the dim light, I saw something—a figure lying still on the road a short distance away. My heart dropped into my stomach as I approached, dread clawing at me with every step.

When I got closer, I could make out the form of a woman, her body motionless on the asphalt.

I knelt beside her, my hands trembling as I reached out, hoping she would respond. But she remained still, unresponsive. Panic surged through me as I called out for help, but my voice

seemed to be swallowed by the night. There was no one around, no one to answer my cries. I was alone, with the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

I slowly opened my eyes and found myself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. As I shifted my gaze, I struggled to make sense of my surroundings.

Feeling slightly disoriented, I attempted to move my hands, only to discover they were

connected to a small tube with a clear liquid. The steady beeping of hospital equipment filled the room.

Oh right. I remembered now—I had been shot by that suspicious person.

As I continued to survey the room, I noticed a familiar figure sleeping beside my bed. It was Yumi.

She stirred, groaning as she began to wake up. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me with sleepy confusion.

"Ha! You're awake!" she exclaimed, startled by my sudden consciousness. "Ye-yeah..." I managed to reply weakly.

"Wait, I'll call the doctors and nurses," she said, quickly getting up and hurrying out of the room. I turned my gaze back to the ceiling and began to gather my thoughts.

How many days have I been here? Who was that person, and why did he try to kill me? What happens to me now?

These questions weighed heavily on my mind, with no immediate answers in sight. Determined to move, I tried to sit up in bed. Each motion brought a sharp pain, but I managed to lift myself. With effort, I stood up, dragging the IV pole along with me.

I shufled toward the window and pulled the curtain aside. The warm sunlight streaming in was refreshingly soothing.

Man, I must be one tough, lucky bastard. I muttered to myself, trying to find some solace in my situation.

Doctors and nurses rushed into the room, their hurried footsteps and quiet chatter filling the space as they began conducting tests on me. The sun continued to stream through the window,

casting a warm glow across the room. The medical staff efficiently checked my vitals, adjusted the IV drip, and reviewed my charts, all while keeping their professional demeanor.

Once they finished and left the room, the room was quiet again, except for the faint beeping of the heart monitor. Yumi was still beside me, looking relieved but visibly tired. She had taken a seat by my bed, her eyes showing a mix of concern and exhaustion. The air was filled with a tense silence as we both adjusted to the sudden quiet.

“Yumi, how many days have you been here?” I asked, trying to understand the extent of her commitment.

“Huh? Every day. Until you woke up,” she replied, her tone betraying her exhaustion. I was taken aback.

“You didn’t have to do that! Now you look worn out. You should get some rest. I’ll be fine. What about your school? Did you skip it just for me?” I asked, concerned.

“Um, no. I attend my classes as scheduled and come here as soon as they end,” she explained.

“Yumi, thank you so much for being here, but you didn’t need to go to such lengths. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but it wasn’t necessary,” I said, genuinely touched by her dedication.

“No, you saved my life. If you hadn’t insisted on kicking me out that time, I’d be in danger too,” she said with a worried expression.

“No. Anyone would have done the same. It just happened that I was there when that man showed up,” I replied, downplaying my role.

"Still—" she started to say, but I cut her off.

“You should go home now and get some rest. You owe me nothing, Yumi. Don’t feel guilty about it,” I said firmly, giving her a gentle but insistent look. I could see the dark circles under her eyes and the way her shoulders slumped slightly from exhaustion.

She hesitated for a moment, looking as though she wanted to argue, but then she sighed softly. “Hmm, sure. But I’ll be here when you’re discharged,” she replied with a small, determined smile.

I couldn’t help but feel a mix of gratitude and concern. The idea of her staying by my side day after day, sacrificing her time and energy, weighed heavily on me. But at the same time, I was moved by her kindness, a warmth spreading through me that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Alright,” I finally said, relenting. “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself too, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes softening. “I promise. But only if you promise to rest and not do anything reckless while you’re recovering.”

“Deal,” I replied, giving her a reassuring smile as she began to gather her things.

As she left the room, I watched her go, feeling a strange sense of relief and unease all at once. I wasn’t used to people caring for me like this, and it was both comforting and disconcerting.

Yumi’s kindness was something I hadn’t expected, and it left me wondering what I had done to deserve it.

It was the night before my scheduled discharge from the hospital, and I was lying in bed, restless and bored. While I was no stranger to being alone, something about the hospital made it feel different—less comfortable, more stifling. The sterile smell of disinfectant clung to the air, mixing with the faint scent of bland food that had become my daily sustenance. The thought of staying here any longer was unbearable, but thankfully, my body had been healing quickly, and soon, I would be free.

As I lay there, trying to pass the time, a loud growl from my stomach reminded me just how hungry I was. The hospital food wasn’t doing much to satisfy me, and I remembered seeing a vending machine near the lobby during one of my earlier walks. The thought of a quick snack, even one from a vending machine, was enough to motivate me to move.

With a sigh, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and carefully stood up. The IV pole wobbled slightly as I removed it, but I steadied it, and I made my way toward the door. The night was quiet, with only the occasional sound of footsteps or a distant voice breaking the

stillness of the corridor. The vending machine was my goal, and the promise of something more satisfying than hospital food pushed me onward.

I proceeded downstairs, careful not to make a sound, and began to stealthily navigate the dimly lit corridors. It felt like I was inside a stealth video game, where each movement had to be calculated and precise. I peeked around corners, making sure no roving nurses or guards were in sight, and tiptoed my way towards the vending machine. The thrill of sneaking around added a strange sense of excitement to the otherwise mundane task.

Finally, I arrived at the vending machine, its bright lights illuminating the various snacks within. I stood there, my eyes scanning the selection as I mulled over my choices. "Hmm, what should I get?" I mumbled to myself, trying to decide between the different offerings. After a moment of careful consideration, I opted for a snack with a rich chocolate filling and a can of soda to wash

it down.

With my snacks in hand, I leaned against the wall beside the vending machine, instinctively trying to stay out of sight just in case someone happened to walk by. It was a strange mix of

caution and rebellion, sneaking around the hospital at night, but it gave me a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in days.

The vending machine was situated in front of a small open garden, its greenery barely visible in the soft glow of the night. I turned my gaze upward, staring at the bright night sky as I munched on the chocolate-filled snack. The cool night air drifted in from the garden, a refreshing contrast to the sterile atmosphere inside the hospital. The stars twinkled above, distant and serene, and for a moment, I felt a sense of peace.

As I savored the snack, I couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant. Here I was, breaking the monotony of hospital life, sneaking around like a character in a game, and enjoying a forbidden midnight snack under the stars.

It was then that a familiar figure caught my eye, passing through the other side of the garden. She was wearing that same white summer dress, her long hair cascading down her back, almost floating as she moved. It struck me as odd—chilly as it was at this hour, she seemed completely unaffected by the cold. The hospital-issued clothes I had on were enough to keep me warm, but I couldn’t imagine how she wasn’t shivering in that dress.

Something about her presence drew me in, like a mysterious force I couldn’t resist. I hastily crumpled my snack wrapper and tossed it into the nearby trash bin, my mind racing as I decided to follow her. She moved gracefully; her footsteps almost soundless as she made her way

towards the staircase leading to the upper floors.

I hurried to catch up, my heart pounding not from the exertion but from a growing sense of urgency. Who was she? And what was she doing here at this hour?

She climbed the stairs with an almost otherworldly calm, and I stayed a few steps behind, not wanting to startle her. When she reached the top, she pushed open the door to the rooftop and stepped outside. The wind was stronger up here, whipping through the open space, and I

shivered slightly as I followed her onto the roof.

The night air was crisp, the city sprawled out beneath us like a sleeping giant, its lights twinkling like stars. But my attention was solely on the woman in the summer dress. She continued

walking, her steps deliberate, until she reached the very edge of the rooftop. My breath caught in my throat as I realized what she was about to do.

"Hey! Don’t do it!" I shouted, my voice breaking through the night. Panic surged through me as I instinctively sprinted towards her. Just as she began to lean forward, I lunged and grabbed her

by the arm, pulling her back with all the strength I could muster. We both stumbled, crashing onto the hard surface of the rooftop.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, my heart hammering in my chest. I reached out my hand to help her up, but she recoiled, her eyes wide with fear. She held her hands close to her chest, like a wounded animal unsure whether to flee or fight.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice gentler now, trying to reassure her. My heart was still racing, but I was more concerned about her.

She didn’t respond, her gaze shifting between me and the edge of the rooftop. Her eyes, filled with a mix of fear and sadness, seemed to pierce through me. The wind tugged at her hair and dress, making her appear even more fragile, like she might be blown away at any moment. I stayed where I was, not wanting to scare her further, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her,

wondering what had driven her to such a desperate act.

There was something hauntingly familiar about her, something I couldn’t quite place. The realization that I had seen her before—the same woman who had mysteriously vanished that night near my apartment—flooded back into my mind. But why was she here? And what was she running from?

"No, you shouldn't. I suppose you’re not meant to see me or touch me…" she broke the silence, her voice soft and distant, as if it came from another world.

"What do you mean I shouldn’t see you or touch you?" I asked, confusion lacing my words. I could still feel the warmth of her arm in my grip, and it didn’t make sense. She was right here— how could she say such a thing?

"We shouldn’t cross paths!" she said, her tone resigned, almost sorrowful. There was a weight to her words, as if they carried a hidden truth, I wasn’t ready to understand.

Before I could press her further, a wave of dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred, the world around me twisting and warping in strange ways. It felt as if the ground was slipping out from beneath me, and my knees buckled.

The next thing I knew, I was on the cold rooftop floor, my head spinning. It was as if reality itself had shattered, leaving me disoriented and weak. The night sky above me seemed to swirl, and I struggled to make sense of what was happening.

Why… again? I thought, frustration mingling with the confusion. Why did this keep happening? What was real, and what was a figment of my imagination?

As my consciousness started to fade, the last thing I saw was the woman standing over me, her expression a mix of regret and sadness. Her form began to blur, becoming less distinct, until she was nothing more than a shadow against the night. And then, everything went dark.

I felt something warm on my face and slowly blinked my eyes open. The golden rays of the morning sun filtered through the hospital window, casting a soft glow across the room. I sighed, the warmth easing me into wakefulness.

“Ah… it’s morning,” I mumbled to myself, the words barely escaping my dry lips. As the fog of

sleep cleared, I started to remember: today was the day I was finally getting discharged from the hospital.

“Hey, you’re awake now?” A familiar voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned my head to see Yumi standing beside my bed, her face a mix of relief and concern.

“Oh, right… it’s discharge day,” I muttered, still a little disoriented.

“Hmmm, you told me you’d take care of yourself, right?” Yumi said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “But why? Why were you sleeping on the rooftop last night?” she asked, her tone more curious than accusatory.

“Huh? Sleeping?” I echoed, confused. Then, in a rush, the events of the previous night came flooding back—the strange woman on the rooftop, her eerie calmness, and the way I suddenly lost consciousness. My mind raced as I tried to piece it all together. “Uh... Eh…” I stammered, completely at a loss for words. How could I explain what even I didn’t fully understand? “I really don’t know,” I finally admitted, rubbing my temples.

Just then, something caught my eye. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the same woman from last night—there she was again, floating silently near Yumi. She was exactly as I remembered: her long hair cascading like a waterfall, her white summer dress gently swaying as if moved by a breeze only she could feel.

“Woah, woah…” I muttered, unable to keep the shock out of my voice. The woman’s presence was surreal—she didn’t seem like a hallucination, yet how could she be real? I felt my breath quicken as panic started to set in. I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down, but my mind was reeling. Was I losing it? Was this some kind of lingering effect from the injury?

“Are you okay?” Yumi asked, her concern deepening as she noticed my sudden unease.

“Ahhhh… do you see something... unusual here? A person or… anything?” I asked cautiously, my eyes flicking between Yumi and the floating woman. My voice was shaky, the fear of sounding insane creeping in.

Yumi scanned the room, her eyes searching the air around us. She looked confused but shook her head. “Nope, nothing unusual. Just you, me, and this hospital room. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

But my eyes couldn’t tear away from the woman. She was floating just a few feet away, her gaze fixed on me, her hand raised in a gentle wave. She seemed almost ethereal, like something out of a dream—or a nightmare. My stomach churned with anxiety as I tried to make sense of it all. Why could I see her and Yumi couldn’t? Why was she here?

The woman’s serene smile never faltered as if she knew something I didn’t. A shiver ran down my spine as I wondered: What did she want from me?

"Yeah, I’m alright. No worries. It’s just… Ha, how do I explain this?" I hesitated, searching for the right words, but nothing seemed to make sense. I decided to let it go. "Nah, just forget it," I said, forcing a smile in Yumi’s direction.

She gave me a skeptical look, clearly not convinced but didn’t press further. "Alright, I’m gonna go to the office to meet with the manager and finalize your discharge papers. But don’t you

dare go wandering off again!" she warned, her tone half-serious, half-teasing. I chuckled nervously. "Got it. I’ll stay put."

With that, Yumi gave me one last concerned glance before she turned and left the room, leaving me alone with the strange, floating woman. The moment the door clicked shut, a heavy silence filled the air. The woman hadn’t moved—she was still there, her gaze now fixed outside the window. The soft light from the sun seemed to outline her form, making her appear even more otherworldly.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. This was insane—none of this made any logical sense, but I had to confront it. "Hey, so... Can I ask you some questions?" I ventured, my voice shaky but firm.

For a moment, she remained silent, as if lost in thought. Then, almost casually, she let out a soft hum in response. It was a sound that seemed to resonate through the room, gentle but filled

with an unsettling kind of knowing. Slowly, she turned to face me, her expression calm, almost serene, yet unreadable.

Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I felt as though she could see right through me—through my thoughts, my fears, my very soul. It was unnerving, to say the least, but I forced myself to hold her gaze. "Who… who are you? And why are you here?" I finally asked, the questions spilling out before I could stop them.

The woman remained silent for a few seconds, her eyes searching mine as if weighing whether to answer. The air between us felt thick with tension, and I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost melodic, but it carried an unsettling weight. "We shouldn’t have crossed paths," she said, echoing the words she had spoken the night before. "But now that we have, there’s no turning back."

A chill ran down my spine at her cryptic response. "What do you mean by that? Who are you?" I pressed, desperation creeping into my voice. I needed answers—I needed to understand what was happening to me.

Instead of responding immediately, the woman slowly floated down until she was seated in the chair beside my bed. She looked almost ordinary now, if it weren’t for the otherworldly aura that still clung to her. She rested her chin on her index finger, as if deep in thought. Her eyes, though calm, seemed to hold a thousand unsaid words.

"I don’t know," she finally said, her voice soft and almost childlike, tinged with uncertainty. "I really don’t have any clear answers. But I do know that you weren’t supposed to see me, and you shouldn’t have touched me. We weren’t meant to cross paths."

Her words left me reeling. "Huh?" I stammered, trying to process what she was saying. Nothing made sense. Why wasn’t I supposed to see her? Why wasn’t I supposed to touch her? And what did she mean by us not crossing paths?

My mind raced, searching for some logical explanation, but all I found was confusion and a rising sense of dread. "What the hell is happening?" I muttered to myself, feeling utterly lost. This was too much—too strange to comprehend. It was as if I had been plunged into some kind of surreal nightmare, where the rules of reality no longer applied.

"Are you a ghost or something?" I asked, trying to make sense of her presence.

She tilted her head slightly, as if contemplating the question. "Hmm, what can I say? Maybe I'm a ghost? Or perhaps I'm an extraterrestrial being, invisible to the naked eye."

Her response only added to my confusion. "What in the world are you talking about?" I demanded, frustration seeping into my voice. Her cryptic answers weren't helping me understand anything; they only deepened the mystery surrounding her.

"But I’m sure I was once like you—maybe in the time when I was alive? Though I have no

memory, even my name, I can’t remember," she replied, her tone carrying a hint of sadness.

"It was just one day," she continued, her voice wavering slightly. "I was standing on a busy street, people passing by me. I couldn’t touch anything. I screamed and screamed, but no one noticed me."

Her words struck a chord deep within me. I recalled the times I had begged for help, reaching out to family and friends, only to be met with indifference. The feeling of invisibility was all too familiar to me. I remembered those dark moments when overwhelmed by the sense of being unnoticed and unheard.

"So, I would like you to help me," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Maybe our paths crossed for a reason. I’d like to end this suffering. I’m so tired of being alone. If I’m already dead, then why am I still suffering like this?" Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, conveyed a depth of anguish that was almost palpable.

I sat there in stunned silence, grappling with the gravity of her words. Her pain mirrored my own experiences of isolation and rejection. There were times in my life when I had desperately sought help and been met with indifference, even by those I loved. The weight of loneliness and the fight to endure it on my own had been overwhelming.

Her plea for help touched something deep within me. I had longed to make a difference, to help others as a way to cope with my own scars and loneliness. It seemed that perhaps this was my chance to do something meaningful and to offer the support that I had once needed.

I may have been betrayed by some and found it hard to trust, but there’s something deep

within me that compels me to help. Despite my own scars and the difficulty I’ve faced in trusting others, I don’t want anyone else to experience the same suffering I’ve been through. The pain of feeling abandoned and unseen has left a mark on me, and I want to prevent others from enduring that loneliness. Even if my own ability to trust has been fractured, my desire to offer support and understanding remains unshaken. It’s a drive to ensure that no one else feels as isolated and forsaken as I once did.

"Alright, I'll do my best to help you," I finally said, feeling a sense of resolve.

"Really? Really?" She turned to me with a beaming smile, her eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope. "Yep. But what if we don’t succeed?" I asked, my voice tinged with concern.

"Hmm, maybe we’re bound together for eternity?" she replied with a light-hearted chuckle, though her eyes remained serious.

That’s quite a consequence. I thought to myself, considering the gravity of her words. At that moment, a knock on the door broke the fragile silence.

"Right, well, we’ll continue this later, okay? I might not be able to talk to you for a while,

because if I do, they’ll think I’m insane and might send me to a mental hospital," I said, trying to keep my tone casual despite the anxiety creeping in.

"You’re funny. But you’re right," she replied with a soft smile, as she drifted towards the corner of the room.

The door opened, revealing Yumi and the manager.

"How are you feeling?" the manager asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Yes, sir, I’m feeling better now," I replied, trying to sound more upbeat than I felt.

"I’m glad to hear that. I’m here to check on you and to give you this," he said, handing me an envelope. "It’s an award for your bravery in saving your co-worker. We need employees like you. All your hospital bills have been covered, and we’re granting you an additional week to rest."

I took the envelope and looked inside. The check read 100,000. That’s a lot of money. I thought, feeling a mix of shock and guilt.

"No, I can’t possibly accept this," I said, feeling uneasy about the gesture. "I didn’t do anything to be proud of."

"The upper management insisted on this," the manager said firmly. "They wanted to recognize your courage. Please accept it."

Reluctantly, I accepted the check. "Thank you," I said, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

After that, doctors and nurses conducted the final tests on me before discharging me.

By 5 p.m., we were ready to leave the hospital. The manager offered to drive me home, but I politely declined. I wanted to take a walk and clear my mind. Yumi, on the other hand, insisted on walking me home. I was too tired to argue, so I agreed.

We walked side by side in silence. The streets were bustling with people due to rush hour, and traffic jams added to the congestion. The din of the city felt oddly comforting compared to the sterile hospital environment.

“Hmmm, Yumi,” I said, trying to break the silence and get her attention. “Yes?” she replied, glancing at me.

"I just want to know, what happened to the guy who shot me?" I asked. "Oh, he was arrested," she said. "As soon as I exited through the back door, I saw a police car nearby, so I quickly went to them. He’s probably in prison now, so you don’t have to worry."

I felt a sense of relief wash over me. That’s kind of reassuring. I thought to myself. “Yumi, thank you,” I said, my voice sincere.

“No, I should be the one thanking you. You saved my life,” she replied earnestly.

"Alright, let’s call it quits," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. I didn’t want to argue anymore about who owed who.

“But—” Yumi started to protest.

“No buts,” I cut her off, glancing ahead. “Besides, we’re already here.” I looked at my front door, then back at her. “Uh… wanna grab some coffee or tea before you head off?”

She smiled but shook her head. “As much as I’d love to, I’ve got class at 6 p.m. Definitely next time!”

I nodded. “Alright, how about I walk you to school then?”

She laughed lightly. “No, of course you won’t. That would completely defeat the purpose of walking you home! I just wanted to make sure you got back safely.” She motioned toward the street. “I’ll just catch the bus to school.”

I didn’t push the matter any further and simply smiled. “Okay. Take care, Yumi.”

“You too! And don’t do anything reckless,” she teased before turning toward the bus stop.

I watched her go, feeling a strange sense of calm settle in. Things were finally starting to return to normal—well, as normal as they could be, considering everything.

I headed off to my flat, feeling the weight of the day catch up with me. As soon as I inserted the key into the lock, I heard a voice beside me, startling me.

"She’s pretty, isn’t she?" the voice chimed in casually.

"Oh, crap," I muttered under my breath, suddenly remembering the ghost. I had completely forgotten about her in the moment with Yumi.

“Whoa, you startled me!” I said, turning to see her floating right next to me, casually as ever.

"Oh. I’m sorry," she replied innocently, her legs crossed midair as if gravity didn’t apply to her. “I thought you had noticed me by now.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Guess I was lost in my thoughts again."

She floated around to face me, her eyes full of curiosity. "Are you and she... together?" Her question caught me off guard. "No, of course not!" I said quickly. “We’re just, uh...

acquaintances. Co-workers. She wouldn’t date a blunt guy with trust issues like me. Plus, she's... she's popular. I bet she has tons of admirers.” I dismissed the thought with a shrug.

The ghost tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "Is that what you think? Or are you just afraid to try?"

I paused for a moment, frowning. "I don't know. Relationships aren't exactly my thing. Too complicated, too... uncertain."

She gave me a sad smile, then floated closer, peering into my face. "It’s funny... I can see a lot of fear in you, but also a lot of kindness. Maybe that’s why we crossed paths. Fear and kindness

often come hand in hand.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just unlocked the door and walked inside, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

As I entered the apartment, I flicked on the lights, tossed my bag carelessly onto the floor, and slumped onto the sofa. It felt good to finally sit down after everything, but I couldn't ignore the fact that I wasn't alone. The ghost floated beside me, hovering like a quiet shadow.

"Uh... feel at home... or, you know, whatever," I muttered awkwardly. Honestly, how do you even welcome a ghost? I wasn't prepared for this.

She gave a soft, amused smile and gently lowered herself until she was sitting at the other end of the sofa, her feet hovering just above the floor.

"You really don’t remember your name?" I asked, glancing at her. I found it strange how comfortable I was starting to feel around her, despite everything.

"No," she said softly, a trace of sadness in her voice. "I really don’t."

I frowned, feeling bad for her. “It’s gotta be tough... I mean, it would be hard for me to call you something if you don’t even have a name.”

She shrugged lightly, her ethereal form shimmering faintly under the apartment’s dim lights. "I’ve been like this for so long, it doesn’t bother me as much anymore."

I leaned back, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. "Well, I think we should come up with one. It’ll make things easier. Besides, it might help us... I dunno, figure things out."

She tilted her head, looking at me curiously. “Like what?”

"Like why you’re here, why we crossed paths. Maybe remembering your name or having one could be the first step. Who knows?" I said, sitting up a bit. "We could start small. How about something simple? A name that feels right?"

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Alright. You pick."

I stared at her for a second, unsure where to begin. How do you name someone? A ghost, no less? My mind raced through random possibilities.

"How about... Aya?" I offered. It was the first thing that popped into my mind—simple, soft, easy to remember.

She blinked, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Aya... it sounds nice. I like it.” “Well, then,” I said with a smile, "nice to officially meet you, Aya."

I turned to Aya, and said, “Aya, I promise I'll help you regain your memories and figure out how to pass through this. But honestly, I have no idea where to start.”

Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her skirt.

“Do you remember where you first woke up?” I asked gently, hoping to spark some kind of memory.

Aya tilted her head, her brows furrowing as she tried to recall. “Hmm… It's all a bit hazy. I remember floating around aimlessly for a while before I found you, but before that…” She

paused, looking out the window as if the answer might be found in the morning light filtering through the curtains. “I think… I was in a park. Yes, that's right! I remember seeing a park bench and a big oak tree.”

I nodded, trying to piece together the information. “A park, huh? That’s something to go on at least. Maybe if we visit the park, it’ll jog more of your memories.”

Aya’s eyes lit up with hope, a rare glimpse of vulnerability crossing her usually confident face. “You really think that might work?”

I shrugged, offering her a small smile. “It’s worth a shot. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? We spend a day at the park?”

She chuckled, her usual playful grin returning. “And maybe I’ll get to scare a few pigeons while we’re there.”

“Just try not to make me look like a total lunatic, alright?” I replied, laughing along with her.

I looked at Aya and said, "Alright, starting tomorrow, we'll visit each park in town one by one."

Aya raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “You think that will help?”

“I hope so,” I replied. “If you remember where you first woke up, maybe something there will trigger a memory.”

She considered this for a moment before nodding. “Sounds reasonable. I guess it’s worth a try.” I sighed “Let’s get some rest. We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

Aya floated quietly, and I could tell she was deep in thought. The idea of searching through

parks seemed simple enough, but I was unsure of how much it would actually help. Still, it was a starting point, and that was something.

She then stopped floating and sat beside me, maintaining a respectful distance.

I glanced over at Aya, my mind wandering to the idea of floating freely. It seemed like a fascinating ability, even though it was something I could never experience.

As I looked up at the ceiling, my thoughts began to drift, and the weariness of the day started to catch up with me. I felt my eyelids growing heavier, and despite my attempts to stay awake,

sleep slowly took over.

I suddenly felt a cool breeze brushing across my face. Slowly, I opened my eyes, only to be surprised by Aya's face inches away from mine. She was blowing air gently onto my face, her eyes closed in concentration. She looked like a child trying to inflate a balloon, her cheeks puffing out slightly as she exhaled. The sight was so unexpected that I just lay there for a moment, trying to process what was happening.

She was making such a funny face that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. The urge to chuckle was strong, but instead, I decided to play along and see if I could surprise her. Keeping my expression neutral, I remained still, pretending to be asleep. Sometime later, I decided to wake up.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked so suddenly that Aya stumbled back, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh! I—uh, I didn't mean to startle you. I was just testing if you could still feel my presence." She averted her eyes as started floating back to her spot, looking a bit embarrassed.

I could sense the sadness in her actions. Watching Aya, I realized how isolating it must be to be a ghost, floating and wandering aimlessly with no one to talk to or acknowledge your presence. It struck me that in a way, we were similar—both feeling left behind, though for very different reasons.

I looked at Aya and said softly, “I get it now. We’re both felt left behind. Maybe that’s why we’ve ended up here together.”

“You think so?” she replied, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. I shrugged slightly. “Maybe?”

I glanced at the wall clock and saw that it was 4 a.m. “Wow,” I muttered, realizing I’d been out for so long. “I guess I was more exhausted than I thought. My body must still be recovering, and the bullet wound is still bothering me.”

Aya’s concerned expression softened as she floated a little closer. “I think you should get some more rest,” she suggested gently. “We can postpone going, you know.”

I shook my head and gave her a small, tired smile. “Nah, I’ll just get bored and head out later anyway, so it’ll be the same. Might as well stick to the plan.”

I stood up, my joints protesting a bit as I made my way to the light switch. The room flooded with a soft glow, chasing away the early morning shadows. With a sigh, I wandered over to the

refrigerator, hoping to find something to eat. As soon as I cracked open the door, a foul smell hit me in the face.

"Ugh, this smells bad," I groaned, pinching my nose.

"Uh, yeah. That’s definitely not good," Aya chimed in, floating just behind me, her face wrinkling in mock disgust.

It made sense, though. The food had been sitting there, unattended, for who knows how long while I was laid up in the hospital after... well, after everything that had happened. My

apartment hadn’t exactly been a priority.

With a resigned sigh, I started pulling out containers of spoiled food, and Aya hovered over my shoulder, helping me toss them into the trash. It was strange seeing her so involved in

something as mundane as fridge-cleaning, but I was surprised that she could not only touch things but she can lift it without any problems.

"I didn’t know ghosts could touch things," I said, watching Aya lift the trash bag full of spoiled food toward the trash bin with ease.

She looked over at me, a mischievous grin on her face. "Yeah, I can touch things, but only when no one’s watching."

I raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "But I can see you lifting that trash. Doesn’t that kind of invalidate your claim?"

She paused for a moment, then shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. "I guess you’re an exception. You’re the only one who can see me, so maybe that’s why you can also see me interacting with stuff."

I chuckled, shaking my head in disbelief. "Lucky me, I suppose. I get my very own ghost with special rules."

Aya laughed softly, the sound like a breeze through the trees. "Hey, not everyone gets to hang out with someone as cool and as pretty as me. You should feel honored!"

"Honored, huh?" I smirked. "Well, if being honored means getting help with chores, I won’t complain."

Aya floated over, her smile brightening. "See? I’m more useful than you thought!"

I nodded, pretending to be deep in thought. "True, but now that I know you can touch things, I might have to start assigning you some of the more tedious tasks."

She gasped, feigning shock. "You wouldn’t dare!"

I just grinned, enjoying the light-hearted banter. "You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?"

By the time we finished, the sun was peeking through the curtains, casting warm light across the kitchen. I glanced at the clock—6:30 a.m. It had taken longer than I’d expected, but at least the fridge was spotless now, and the lingering odor was gone.

"Well, that’s one chore down," I said, stretching my arms over my head. "Now, let’s see what else the day has in store for us."

**Grrrrrmmmmm...**

Suddenly, my stomach let out a low-pitched growl, breaking the silence. I blinked, realizing that I had completely forgotten my hunger. I’d been so engrossed in cleaning the fridge that I lost

track of why I even opened it in the first place.

"Oho... I can hear someone’s hungry," Aya said with a wide grin, clearly amused by my predicament.

I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. "Hey, give me a break. I haven’t eaten since yesterday." I shot her a playful look, trying to deflect my embarrassment.

Aya floated closer, her grin turning mischievous. "Hmmmm, well, I can cook for you if you want?" she teased, clearly enjoying the situation.

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Oh really? And you’re sure you’re not secretly whipping up a potion of poison?"

She gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest as if deeply offended. "Ha! Just wait until you fall in love with my cooking. You won’t be able to resist!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Alright, I’ll take my chances. But if I end up a ghost like you, haunting this place because of some cursed meal, I’ll be holding you responsible."

Aya laughed, the sound light and teasing. "Don’t worry, I’ve got some ghostly tricks up my sleeve. You’ll be begging for more once I’m done!"

"Alright then," I said, crossing my arms and leaning back against the counter. "Show me what you’ve got, Chef Aya."

Aya gave me a playful wink before floating over to the kitchen, her form somehow exuding confidence as she started gathering ingredients. I watched her, curious about what she would come up with—and secretly hoping that she wasn’t bluffing about her cooking skills.

Fortunately, there are still good meat in the freezer and the rice still not expired as well as some spices.

"Tada!" Aya announced proudly, holding up a plate as if she’d just conquered a kingdom. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, clearly eager for my reaction. I had to admit, seeing her so thrilled about something as simple as cooking was kind of endearing.

As she slowly walked towards me, I couldn’t help but notice how she was moving—normally. No floating, no ethereal drifting, just regular walking. And then there was the apron. My eyes widened slightly. Was she actually wearing an apron? And, wait a minute… was she wearing anything under it? I quickly pushed that thought away. No, no, definitely not going there. I’m not about to simp over a ghost in an apron.

“Hey!” I said, trying to keep my tone casual despite the curiosity bubbling inside me. “Where did you get that apron? I don’t remember buying it. And… you can walk normally?”

Aya stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing playfully as a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. “Oho, someone’s charmed by my looks, huh? Just don’t ogle me too much,” she teased, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on me.

I felt my face heat up, but I wasn’t about to let her get the upper hand. “I’m not ogling!” I protested, though I knew it sounded a bit too defensive. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. And a little suspicious. Where did that apron come from?”

Aya winked and twirled once, making the apron flare out slightly. “I have my ways,” she said mysteriously. “As for the walking, well, let’s just say I’ve been practicing. Can’t have you thinking I’m some kind of one-trick ghost, right?”

I shook my head, a reluctant smile creeping onto my face. “You never fail to surprise me, Aya. But seriously, what’s under that plate? Is it safe to eat, or am I going to regret this?”

She gasped dramatically, feigning offense. “How dare you doubt my culinary prowess! You’ll see. One bite and you’ll be begging for more.”

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “Alright, alright, let’s see what you’ve got, Chef Aya. Just don’t be too disappointed if I don’t fall head over heels for your cooking.”

Aya placed the plate in front of me with a flourish, her expression one of pure satisfaction. As I lifted the cover, a delicious aroma wafted up, making my stomach growl even louder. Whatever she’d made, it certainly smelled good.

I picked up a fork and hesitated for a moment before taking a bite. Aya watched me closely, her eyes twinkling with excitement. As the flavors hit my taste buds, I had to admit—it was actually pretty good.

I looked up at Aya, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Well?” she asked expectantly.

I took another bite and nodded. “Alright, I’ll give it to you. This is… surprisingly delicious. You’ve got some serious skills.”

Aya beamed, looking as pleased as if she’d just won a major cooking competition. “See? I told you! You’re not the only one with hidden talents around here.”

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Aya shrugged, still smiling. “What can I say? Life—or afterlife, in my case—would be pretty boring if I didn’t keep you on your toes.”

“Fair enough,” I said, taking another bite. “Just don’t expect me to start calling you ‘Master Chef’ or anything.”

Aya giggled, floating slightly off the ground again as she said, “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

I paused mid-bite, looking at Aya with a mix of curiosity and sympathy. "So, you don't actually eat... at all?"

Aya shook her head, her expression a little wistful.

"Nope. As much as I’d love to, I can’t. Anytime I try, the food just falls right through me, like it’s slipping through thin air." She mimicked the action, letting her hand pass through the table with a faint ripple in the air. I frowned slightly, feeling a pang of sadness for her.

"I didn’t know that. But seriously, this meal is amazing. How did you make it taste so good without even trying it yourself?" Aya grinned, a bit of pride in her eyes.

"Well, I didn’t taste it at all, actually. It’s weird, but I just… knew how to make it. Like this recipe was etched in my mind somehow. Maybe I was a chef when I was alive." She gave a small, thoughtful smile. "But even if I can’t taste what I cook, I can taste it if I’m touching someone who is eating."

"Eh, it’s not so bad. Seeing you enjoy it is enough for me. And besides," she added, her voice dropping to a more playful tone, "When I touch someone while they’re eating, I can sort of taste it through them."

I took another bite, feeling her light touch on my arm as she hovered closer. It was an odd sensation, knowing she was experiencing the meal in some way through me. But I couldn’t help but smile at her resourcefulness.

"Well, if you keep cooking like this, I don’t mind sharing my taste buds," I joked, trying to keep things light.

"Just don’t make a habit of sneaking up on me like that, okay?" Aya laughed, the sound like a soft, warm breeze.

"No promises! But I’ll do my best. After all, you’re the only person I’ve got to taste my cooking. I wouldn’t want to scare you off."

Aya’s smile softened, and for a moment, it felt like there was something more she wanted to say. But instead, she just floated beside me, watching quietly as I finished the meal she’d so carefully prepared.