othrwrld_pb

“So you want us to go fix a potentially haunted mansion?” “Yes!” Kazuya’s eyes sparkled with a suspicious amount of excitement. “No.” Rayne deadpanned.

Rayne Atlas never imagined he'd trade sun-soaked days at the beach for a summer in Transylvania, but here he is.

Dragged by his less-than-convincing friends, he's about to spend a week fixing up a decrepit mansion that could double as a set for a horror movie. This summer, what was supposed to be a mundane repair job spirals into an adventure, and they discover that some places hold more than just memories... they harbor grudges.

It was definitely a bad idea.

Rayne was already regretting letting Elena pick the attic.

If the creaking of the rotting wooden stairs hadn’t been enough to throw him off, the attic door being bolted shut with three different locking mechanisms sealed the deal. Rayne stared at the door cautiously, cursing every decision he’d made to end up here, which really was just one.

“This thing’s been shut for a reason, don’t you think?” Elena pursed her lips in obvious discomfort. “Maybe this is a sign we should leave.”

“Everything here is a sign we should leave,” Rayne muttered.

He grips the handle, scowling at the rust that coats his palm. Elena stops him with a hand on his forearm, making Rayne turn to look at her in confusion.

“What if we open this door and release decades-old ghosts who make us play truth or dare, smiling like psychopaths while we die one by one and they suck on our souls?” Elena says, not stopping to take a breath.

Rayne shot her a glance, somewhat amused. “You’ve watched too many horror movies for a scardy-cat, Eli. Ghosts aren’t real.” He turned back to the door, pulling it, and the three locking mechanisms fell apart, too rusted to hold. The door screeched in protest.

The attic was everything Rayne had thought it would be: dusty, smelly, and covered in antiques that would probably sell for shitloads of money. 

The floor was littered with broken furniture, old trunks, and boxes that looked like they hadn’t been touched in ages.

There were bookshelves filled with hardcover books, trinkets that seemed like they could have belonged to nobility, and even a fancy grandfather clock that Rayne was tempted to lug back home to Brooklyn. 

But then again, his mother might disown him if he brought home another useless thing.

Rayne steps in. “How… pleasant.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair vigorously when his head got caught in a coweb. He dumped the bucket of water in the middle of the room, looking around, lost as to where he should start.

Elena stepped in behind him after she was completely sure that she wouldn’t be swarmed by the undead. “Well,” She starts, grabbing a clean rag. “Time to get started.”

They worked in silence for a while, one that came with years of knowing each other, the bubble only breaking when one of them found something stupid, laughter muffled into their clothes.

Elena tried on a crown with blue jewels, turning her head to the right and posing like she was in a medieval portrait, and Rayne chuckled, lips quirking over how the blue really brought out her eyes.

“Hey,” Rayne said, dusting off a cowboy hat he found, a smirk forming on his lips as he set it on his head. “Now all I need is to sit on a horse and yell ‘Yeehaw!’”

Elena couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, watching the old hat flop aimlessly to one side, almost covering one of Rayne’s eyes. Rayne followed her gaze before tipping his head to the other side, straightening it. Elena’s grin only widened. 

“You look ridiculous,” she teased, voice light and playful. 

“I don’t know, I think I could pull it off.” Rayne adjusted the hat.

Elena giggled one last time before her gaze fell onto the room behind Rayne. It was immaculately clean, the wood gleaming like it had been polished, even though they hadn’t bought any polish along. It was nothing like how it looked when they walked in.

She looked back at her half of the room, barely cleaned, before turning her attention back to Rayne. “You still haven’t gotten to the clock,” she nitpicked, pointing at the old grandfather clock that stood in the corner.

“Maybe you could even get that working again. Could be fun.”

“Hell no.” Rayne declared. “Cleaning this haunted-ass mansion is as far as I go. And if this is your way of making me do your part, you aren’t fooling anyone.”

“Aw, I really thought it was.” Elena sighed, pouting dramatically.

“You really think I’d fall for that?” Rayne asked, his tone teasing.

“You did once,” Elena shrugged.

“I was twelve!” Rayne raised an eyebrow, giving her a look of mock disbelief. “Do I look like I’m still twelve?” 

“Add two zeros to that, and you’ll be fine, old man.” Elena joked, her voice light.

Rayne laughed, pushing her gently to the side. “Get back to work.”

“Hey, how’s your back? Still hurting?” Elena asked, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“Har har. Very funny.” Rayne shot her a playful glare.

Elena shoved him back in return, sending him stumbling into the old grandfather clock. The dust that had settled on it erupted into the air, clouding the space around them.

“Elena!” Rayne groaned, dusting off his shoulders as he coughed. “You did that on purpose.”

“Sorry,” Elena muttered, trying to stifle a laugh as she walked to the other side of the room to continue cleaning. “I need to get back to work, remember?” Elena giggled.

“Oh, now you listen to me?” Rayne groaned, throwing a look at the dust beneath his feet that Elena conveniently ignored. He glanced back at the clock, noting the small crack he had accidentally made in the glass when he slammed into it. 

He hoped Kazuya wouldn’t notice.

Elena turned away from her task, glancing over her shoulder. “I was just helping out. Not my fault that you’re too clumsy.”

Rayne rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he carefully dusted off the clock, making sure not to disturb anything too much. Once he was done, he sighed, moving away.

Just as Rayne moved on to inevitably help Elena, the second hand of the clock twitched slightly, almost imperceptibly, before it began to move, very, very slowly.

But neither Rayne nor Elena noticed.

An hour later, when the two of them left the attic, the clock was ticking.

Downstairs, far from the dusty attic, Kazuya and Mallory stood in front of the grand old fireplace, with slightly burnt wood remaining from a fire probably set eons ago.

“This is gonna be awesome,” Kazuya said, rolling up his shirt sleeves as far as they would go. “I bet we could find a secret passage. Or a half-burnt will.”

Mallory rolled her eyes, crouching in front of the fireplace to observe the stonework. She traced a finger along the intricate carvings on the stone, wincing at the soot that came away black when she pulled it away.

“I think the most you’d find is a skeleton,” she muttered.

Kazuya blinked at her. “Why would there be a skeleton up a chimney?” 

“I don’t know, maybe Santa got stuck on his way down?” Mallory tried her hardest to keep her face stoic.

Kazuya stared at her for three full seconds.

“How are we friends?”

“I have no idea,” she replied, shrugging and standing up.

Kazuya sighed, a little like the weight of the whole world was upon him, kneeling in front of the fireplace while pulling on his gloves. “Imagine if we do find a skeleton. ‘Local teens find old skeleton up a chimney, accidentally solve fifty-year mystery.’ We’d be, like, famous.”

Mallory laughed, leaning against the wall and watching Kazuya pull out old, burnt logs. “Sure, if we’re not arrested.”

“Why would we be arrested? It’d be like we’re shooting a crime documentary–oh!” Kazuya pulled out what looked like a crowbar, a design of a snake twisting up the rod. “You wouldn’t find this at IKEA.”

“Absolute treasure,” she grinned.

Kazuya laughed, leaning up the chimney, one knee in the fireplace. “Say, do you think I’d fit in here?” His gaze roamed around the chimney, covered in soot so black he couldn’t see how far it went.

Mallory whipped her head toward him. “No. Kaz, just no.”

“Why not?” Kazuya asked, one hand already reaching up.

She grabbed Kazuya’s arm, leveling him with a look. “If you go in there and get stuck, I am not explaining to Rayne that you died trying to find a dead man.” 

“I wouldn’t die. I think. Rayne can just come pull me out himself.” Kazuya contemplated, nodding after a second like he’d just won a fight against himself.

“He’s gonna laugh at you.”

“He always laughs at me,” he grinned, excitement shining in his eyes as he slipped out of Mallory’s hold and stood, slowly easing into the chimney. He took his serpent crowbar with him, poking at whatever was above him.

For a second, all he could feel was brick and mud. He reached deeper, closing his eyes when the mud dislodged slightly and drizzled onto him. And suddenly, clink.

Kazuya’s eyes shot open, meeting Mallory’s shocked ones.

“That did not sound like brick,” she noted, inching closer.

“Nope. Definitely not.”

Mallory studied Kazuya for a second, who was staring back at her with the crazed recklessness that always occupied his eyes. “Kazuya,” she said, “If you pull out a cursed doll, I’m leaving you here to die.”

“Not a cursed doll,” Kazuya promised. “It feels more like… metal?”

“That’s even worse.” 

“We won’t know unless we try,” he grinned, shoving the crowbar a little higher, with more force. “What if we find the metal joints of an old man who died decades ago–”

Before Kazuya could complete his sentence, all hell rained down on him.

“Oh, shit–”

Something gave way above, and suddenly, all the mud, bricks, and everything else stuck in the chimney dumped itself straight onto Kazuya’s head, covering him in soot and what was possibly an old man’s remains.

Mallory shrieked and stumbled back as the dust hit the fireplace, closing her eyes and coughing, violently waving her hand around the black cloud that surrounded her. 

For a solid five seconds, there was nothing but chaos.

“Kazuya?” she shouted, squinting her eyes to spot the cause of this mess. 

“I’m not dead!” Kazuya shouted back, his voice muffled and wheezy from somewhere inside the fireplace. “I think–” 

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, creaking dangerously in some places, as Rayne skidded into the room, Elena not far behind, disheveled as if they’d run down all those flights of stairs.

“What happened? We heard a scream, and–”

Rayne froze, like someone had hit the stop button, taking in the scene in front of him. Elena almost crashed into his back, catching herself on his arm before looking up, and oh.

Mallory was covered in black, like someone had thrown paint over her. Behind her, the cloud of ash cleared, and something resembling Kazuya climbed out of the fireplace, stumbling wildly.

He looked absolutely horrendous. While Mallory was only painted black, Kazuya looked like he had been dunked in a vat of tar, leaving only his eyes and stupidly bright smile. He regained his balance before making eye contact with Rayne.

“...Hi.” Kazuya breathed.

Rayne breathed in deeply, grabbing onto the hem of his hoodie to keep him from doubling over. “Did you try to climb the chimney?”

“It seemed like the best move at the time.” Kazuya shook his head, dust coming off him in waves.

Elena shrieked, moving back to hide behind Rayne. “Stop moving! You’re spreading ghost particles all around,” she shoved Rayne forward like a human meat shield.

“They’re not ghost particles–”

“You don’t know that.”

Rayne grabbed the somewhat clean rag that Mallory and Kazuya were supposed to use and threw it onto Kazuya’s face. “Stay six feet away from me until you clean yourself up.”

Kazuya grabbed the rag and swiped it over his face, only succeeding in smearing the dust in places it hadn’t been before. He looked less like a person and more like someone’s failed charcoal sketch.

Mallory doubled over in laughter, clutching her middle. “Oh my god, you look like a haunted mop!” 

Rayne tried to keep it in, he really did. But one look at Kazuya’s face and he lost it. He burst into laughter, shoulders shaking, head ducked down like he was trying to hide it from Kazuya. 

Elena joined in, cackling gleefully at Kazuya’s misery.

“Shut it, Rayne.” Kazuya groaned.

“I told you he’d laugh at you.” Mallory giggled.

“Somehow, this feels like betrayal,” Kazuya muttered.

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“So you want us to go fix a potentially haunted mansion?” “Yes!” Kazuya’s eyes sparkled with a suspicious amount of excitement. “No.” Rayne deadpanned.

Rayne Atlas never imagined he'd trade sun-soaked days at the beach for a summer in Transylvania, but here he is.

Dragged by his less-than-convincing friends, he's about to spend a week fixing up a decrepit mansion that could double as a set for a horror movie. This summer, what was supposed to be a mundane repair job spirals into an adventure, and they discover that some places hold more than just memories... they harbor grudges.

“Ain’t this exciting, Ray-ray?” Kazuya Ren grinned in excitement. 

“Yeah. Thrilling.” Rayne snarked back.

Rayne should have known everything was going to go sideways the moment Kazuya said, ‘I have an idea,’ with a straight face. 

The last time his dear friend had an idea, it ended with a laboratory burette flying out of the university’s window, a burning dumpster rolling down the street, and the neighborhood suicide prevention line being alerted.

Their Chemistry professor had way too much to say about that incident, something along the lines of, “If Mr. Ren here is the voice of reason in any situation, then the world might as well be doomed,” and now, Rayne could wholeheartedly agree.

“You weren’t lying when you said this place was abandoned,” Mallory muttered, astonishment evident in her voice as she watched the houses lining the sides of the road slowly blur into trees, dead and desolate. 

One house sat upon the end of the road, only, the house in question, as Rayne very belatedly realized, was as much a house as a castle was a building.

The car slowly came to a stop in front of the closed gates, rusted beyond identification, tyres cracking with the bits and pieces of stone on the driveway. 

Rayne got down from the car, throwing the gates open slowly, with less effort than it would have needed if the gates were in pristine condition. He walked in, eyes rushing to take in the scenery in front of him. 

The mansion wasn’t in ideal condition.

It was falling apart, or rather, had already fallen apart.

The once-pristine walls of the towering mansion were covered in vines, leaves, and creepers, dead and dull brown.

The windows were boarded with wooden planks, and those that weren’t covered in pieces of wood were shattered beyond repair. 

Overgrown weeds hit his legs with every step he took, and Rayne thanked himself for wearing full-length pants. The whole place reeked of something rotten, something dead.

Rayne pulled off his glasses, wiping away the few raindrops that sat on them with the hem of his black hoodie, before sliding them back onto his face. 

Ironically enough, he had laughed at the people in horror movies a few too many times for it to be sane, and here he was, walking into a house which had ‘Haunted’ written over it in dark red ink, circled and underlined twice. 

A dull thud of a door slamming shut echoed behind him, making the black-haired boy turn toward the source. Kazuya was already on the ground, examining the scene with a wavering frown.

“This,” Kazuya murmured. “Might take longer than I thought.”

Rayne had to physically hold himself back from saying something sarcastic. 

Mallory stepped out carefully, boots crunching over gravel and broken glass. Her nose wrinkled at the stench. “Smells like something died in there. Recently.” 

“Could be anything,” Rayne muttered, though the stiffness of his lips betrayed his amusement. “Or anyone.”

Elena snapped her head toward him, thinly-veiled horror painting her features. 

“I’m kidding.” Rayne relented, hands up in the air in surrender. “It’s probably just the rotting wood.” 

Elena narrows her eyes onto him, before looking away, letting out a little ‘eep’ when a little too tall weed brushes against the skin of her legs unprotected by her shorts. 

They four stepped forward together, the gate creaking behind them as it slowly swung back toward its frame. Rayne glanced over his shoulder, watching it inch closed like it had a mind of its own. 

“That’s not ominous at all,” Mallory muttered under her breath. 

Kazuya stepped up to the front door, huge in how all Neo-Gothic buildings were built. 

“Wait,” Elena protested, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t you need a key to–” Before she could finish her sentence, Kazuya placed his palms flat against the doors and pushed, the wind pushing the dust below the doors inward.

Rayne turned to Elena to give her a look, saying ‘Oh, well.’

Mallory met his eyes as he turned back, lips pressed tight. “Remind me again why we’re here?” 

Whatever Rayne was going to reply with was lost in the breeze as Kazuya stepped forward, making the soft wooden floorboards creak, like it was giving way. 

“Nope. Nope. I want it on the record that I hate this already.” Elena jumped, spinning around with her eyes squeezed shut, like she was scared to see something she wasn’t supposed to.

Mallory hovered at the doorway, one foot inside. 

“This place has horror movie energy.” She notes, making Kazuya frown.

“Come on, guys. It’s not that bad. You’re making Aunt Margaret turn in her grave.”

Rayne snorted. “Maybe Aunt Margaret could call the police for us when we get killed by the ghosts.”

Kazuya shot him a look over his shoulder, but there was no real heat behind it. He continued walking forward, his boots stirring up dust as he passed the threshold. 

The foyer opened up into what must have once been a grand entrance hall. An example of something not aged like fine wine.

The floors were covered in a carpet that might once have been red, now covered in fine dust that swirled every time someone took a step.

A chandelier, half-broken, hung above, tilting to the side at a grotesque angle, as if something had crashed into it long ago. 

Right below the chandelier stood a statue, covered in the same yellowed white sheet as everything else, a pair of magnificent staircases curving around the sides like a protective covering.

Mallory stepped forward, inching toward the covered statue softly, like she was going to do something stupid.

Her red-streaked-black hair fluttered behind her as she settled her hand on the fabric, hold crumpling the sheet in a way that hinted at her intention. 

“Don’t you dare!” Rayne called, alarmed, just as she pulled at the sheet softly. 

“Mal.” Kazuya screeched, lunging forward to stop her. 

The yellowed sheet slowly began to slide off the top of the statue, making the quartet cough when the dust fell onto them, catching in the soft light that filtered through the boarded windows.

Thankfully, Mallory hadn’t put in enough strength to pull down the whole sheet, the corner catching onto something sharp on the statue’s head, possibly a crown. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Mallory grinned, unapologetically shrugging.

Kazuya sighed like he’d lost years of his life by being here.

“Alright. Throw your bags into whatever room you want, and come down to the kitchen so we can find some cleaning supplies and start tidying up the place. Fine?” Kazuya pleaded, voice reverberating through the empty halls. 

“Sounds perfect,” Rayne raised an eyebrow. “If I come across a ghost sitting in a chair, do I ask it to scoot over, or do I just mop around it?”

Before Kazuya could chew him out, Mallory interrupts.

“I want food first,” Mallory grumbled, arms crossed as she eyed the staircase distrustfully, like she was wondering if it could hold her weight.

“And a shower,” Elena whined, toeing at a particularly suspicious patch of the carpet.

“I want to go back home,” Rayne sighed dramatically, arms limp at his sides.

“Yes to everyone but you, Rayne,” Kazuya chimed in cheerfully. He slung an arm around Rayne’s shoulders with a grin. “How would I ever survive without you?” 

“It could be practice for when I die,” Rayne muttered, craning his neck to glance down the dark hallway lined with rooms, each door half hanging off its hinges, rusted and creaking in the soft breeze.

“I’ll probably die before you, Ray,” Kazuya replied, giving his friend a nudge. 

“If you keep being as reckless as you are, it won’t be a probability.” Rayne scoffed, following his friend’s path up the staircase, dust flying with every step.

“Where’s the fun in following the rules?” Kazuya jested, making Rayne pause, frowning, only for Kazuya to roll his eyes and shove him through the second door on the right.

“Now take a shower, lie down, scream into a pillow, whatever it is you introverts do. Be downstairs in thirty minutes,” Kazuya instructed with a grin, already backing away toward another room.

“What if I come a minute early?” Rayne called out after him.

“Just don’t be a minute late!” Kazuya cackled, ducking into a room a few doors down.

“And what if I–”

“Shut up, Ray!” came Elena’s voice from what must have been the bathroom, muffled slightly by the gurgle of ancient plumbing.

‘Whatever it is you introverts do’ turned out to be sitting on the creaky old couch near the window, headphones on, listening to upbeat songs with devastating lyrics.

Rayne wasn’t sure if he should bop his head to the beat or fall into an existential crisis.

But thirty minutes was enough time to clean up the room somewhat, by which he meant shoving the sheet off the bed and hoping no bugs were under it, and taking a shower that paused every other second, in rhythm. 

Right on cue, the ‘Gummy Bear’ song blared from his phone.

Of course, Rayne was the first one down.

Mallory skidded into the room moments later with a triumphant, “Yes! I’m first!” then immediately faltered when she spotted him. “Okay, fine. You don’t count. You were always gonna be first.”

Kazuya burst in a second later, slamming shoulder-first into the doorframe, followed closely by Elena, who nearly face-planted trying to stop in time.

“Eli’s last!” Kazuya wheezed, still catching his breath. “Dinner-choosing privileges revoked!”

“What?! That’s not fair!” Elena huffed, arms crossed in protest. “No one said being last had consequences!”

“We all knew,” Rayne chimed in from where he leaned against a sheet-covered table. “It’s one of the ten commandments of chaos. Keep up, El.”

“Now you’re just gloating about being first.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

Rayne grinned. “Mallory said she was first, so technically I’m… zero-eth? That’s a number, right?” He held up his fingers like he was trying to explain complex math. “It’s the number before one. You wouldn’t understand, very advanced.”

Mallory snorted. Elena just rolled her eyes.

“Rayne, if you don’t shut up right now, you won’t have a mouth left to shut,” Elena threatened, her glare sharp enough to draw blood. 

“That was actually a good one, Eli! You’re getting better at this,” Mallory grinned, reaching out to ruffle Elena’s hair like a proud older sibling.

Her hand barely made contact before Elena swatted it away with the speed of vengeance. “Don’t you start, Mal. I still remember the girls’ washroom. Ninth grade.”

Mallory’s smile vanished instantly, like someone had hit a mute button on her soul.

“What happened in the girls’ washroom, ninth grade?” Kazuya stage-whispered, eyes lighting up with far too much curiosity. 

Rayne made a face. “I don’t know if I want to find out.” 

Kazuya cackled, already nudging Mallory for answers while Elena looked smug and slightly terrifying. “Speaking of cleaning up–” Kazuya began, only for Rayne to cut in.

“We weren’t speaking of cleaning up.”

“–I found this stuff in the storage,” Kazuya continued, unfazed and absolutely ignoring Rayne, dropping a dusty box onto the kitchen table with a thud. 

Inside were brushes, old rags, half-used bottles of cleaning agents, and a couple of sad-looking brooms. “And there’s more in the car. Window cleaners and stuff. Should be enough for today.”

“Perfect,” Rayne sighed, drawing a chorus of groans from the others.

“Come on now, you knew what you were signing up for,” Kazuya said cheerfully, picking up a broom and chucking it at Mallory with the grace of a vengeful janitor. “Pair up and get to it!”

“Okay. Elena can come with me–” Mallory started, only to be swiftly interrupted.

“I’m going with Rayne,” Elena declared, already grabbing a cloth and bucket. She marched to Rayne’s side and latched onto his arm with the desperation of someone trying to avoid war. 

“At least he won’t throw a cockroach at me,” she muttered, glaring at Kazuya and Mallory like they were serial insect offenders.

“I’d throw you out the window before I throw a cockroach,” Rayne mumbled dryly, only to get an elbow jabbed into his ribs.

“Come on, Elena, that was one time!” Mallory whined.

“Two times,” she corrected.

“It was actually four,” Kazuya offered far too helpfully.

“Shut it,” Mallory snapped, shooting him a death glare.

“Anyway, it was dead, okay?” Mallory argued, holding up her hands like that somehow made it better.

Elena stared at her like she’d grown another head. “And that’s supposed to make it better?”

“A dead cockroach is ten times more contagious than a live one,” Rayne said absentmindedly. The room fell into silence for half a second before both girls turned to him in perfect synchronization. 

“Shut up, Ray!”

He wisely did. His phone, however, did not get the memo.

“I’m a gummy bear. Yes, I’m a gummy bear! Oh, I’m a yummy, tummy, funny, lucky gummy bear–” blared from his pocket.

Rayne yanked out his phone and shut the alarm off before Kazuya could start vibing. He could see it in the man’s eyes. 

“Seriously?” Mallory deadpanned.

“What? It’s cute,” Rayne defended.

“What was the alarm even for?” she asked, folding her arms. 

Rayne raised an eyebrow. “To remind us to stop procrastinating and start cleaning,” he replied flatly. Mallory looked to the side, and Rayne took it as a sign of surrender.

“At least someone’s taking this seriously.” Kazuya cheered, tossing a rag at Rayne’s head and missing. Rayne throws a soap bar in return, and, well, he didn’t play Baseball for the entirety of high school to miss a simple shot. 

“Have fun cleaning the chimney, Cinder-Elena!” Kazuya called after them as the pair headed upstairs.

“You clean the chimney,” Elena shot back. “We’ll take the attic.”

Rayne sighed as she shoved him up the stairs way too harshly. 

‘Let’s just hope this isn’t a bad idea.’

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It wasn't a sunny day.

Not by a lot.

The winds blew harsh, and not even the tall, stone walls of the Manor could hide the dark clouds looming in the sky, waiting, screaming to let the rain down, washing away all that the world needed to hide.

All the pain, all the sadness, all the hurt.

But it stood. It stood scarily still, as if the world was on pause, and once someone hits the button, the sky would shatter into pieces.

The pieces would fall, stabbing through each one's heart, ripping their soul out. The pain would overflow and spill, like a dam once broken.

The streets would run with blood, red, dark, corrupted. Screams would do nothing but echo through the wind, lost, forgotten.

Desperate wishes would ring silent, and the monster created by this war will thrive. And from the chaos, he would rise; like a phoenix out of ashes, an angel with no wings, he–

"–ira? Akira?"

The ravenette snaps his head to look at the woman who'd called his name. "Yes, mother?" he answers, voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

"Were you listening to the conversation?" his mother asks, amused by the situation.

"Of course." Akira replies with a tight smile, his once dazed eyes now focused on her.

Laughter bellows from a boy sitting next to him.

"Lies, mother. Just look at him, plotting conspiracy theories again." his brother spoke, a cheeky smile lingering on his face.

"Shut it." Akira whispered to his brother, kicking him under the table for good measure.

"This isn't the first time he's zoned out at dinner, is it, love?" his father spoke, eyes smiling as he jested. His mother nudged his father softly.

Kaito's eyes twinkled with mischief.

"We were talking about how dad's gonna give me the company." Kaito supplied, to which Akira replied with an 'Oh.'

His father burst out in laughter as he heard his son's confused reply.

"I told you he wasn't listening!" Kaito said, grinning.

"Kai! Stop teasing your brother, oh lord." their mother said, although the smile on her face betrayed her actions.

"What was it this time, son? Did the Azrael's rule the world? Or did the volcano in Japan blast? Or did the sky fall down?" his father asked, chuckling.

"Neither." Akira replied, scoffing at his family. He was absolutely not going to admit that he was thinking about the sky falling down.

"Quiet down, Caelan." his mother reprimanded his father. "The boy has a creative mind; do not jest him for that." she said, making the old man sulk.

A slight breeze blew past them.

"I said nothing!" his father denied, making the sons giggle.

"We were talking about your first day at school, child. None of this hogwash these two are spewing." his mother said, rolling her eyes at his father.

"What? Miriam!" his father hissed at his mother, who was ignoring him.

"Ah, first day." Akira muttered under his breath, making Kaito grin even wider.

"Aki." he whispered to the ravenette. Akira turns to look at his brother.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Kaito asked, making Akira kick his brother again.

"Oww." Kaito hissed in pain, making their parents stop their squabble.

"Akira Azrael! Stop harassing your brother." his mother said, making Kaito snort in laughter, but after seeing Akira's glare, he tried to cover it off as an exclamation of pain.

Akira opens his mouth to protest against the injustice, but promptly shuts it when he sees the clock behind his mother.

Eight in the morning, about ten minutes before the bus stops in front of their manor.

Caelan follows his son's line of sight, eyes bulging out of his sockets in shock. "You're going to miss the bus, son. Run along!"

And that was enough of an invitation for Akira to start running up the stairs in a hurry.

He exchanged his slippers for running shoes, shoving his charger and a few pens into his bag before barreling down the stairs at record speed. Record speed being– 7 minutes.

"Bye mother! Bye father!" he shouted, as he passed the dining hall.

"All the best!" That was his father.

"Have a good first day!" That was his mother.

"I hope you trip and fall!" And in case you haven't guessed, that was his brother.

'Have a good first day', my foot.

Akira slammed into the bus right before it left, heaving hard as he scanned his bus card. He plopped into a seat on the bus, not in the back, not in the front, but somewhere in between.

Akira couldn't understand the concept of celebrating the 'first day' back in school.

Nothing would have changed– the bells would still ring, lunch would still be served, sports would still be played, and studies would still go on, just with a few new chapters.

Everything would be the same.

Even his place on the bus was the same, the ravenette noted, sighing.

As the bus began moving, he started rummaging through his bag to find his headphones– the only way to shoo away boredom during a forty five-minute journey to school.

As he found the headphones lying in the complete bottom of his bag (god knows how it got there in the first place), a stray pen he'd shoved inside his bag in a hurry dropped onto the floor of the bus, rolling away from him.

"Damn it."

The ravenette sighed at his own misfortune, hanging his headphones around his neck and zipping up his backpack.

Shoving the backpack onto the seat next to him, he tried to reach for his pen. Although Akira thought his arms were quite long for a seventeen-year-old, he couldn't reach the pen.

As the bus lurched backward, the pen rolled under a seat two rows away.

A seat, occupied by a girl. Akira once again cursed himself for being so clumsy, before reaching for the seat once again, failing.

"Um, excuse me." Akira whispered to the girl, although it seemed as if the girl didn't hear him at all.

"Hello? I'm sorry, but I dropped my pen and–" he cut himself off when he noticed she wasn't listening to him. Was she ignoring him? Akira scoffed; rude, he thought.

"Hey." the boy hissed, this time a little louder. "Excuse me–"

And just as he was about to raise his voice even louder, the girl turned toward the window, tucking her light brown hair behind her ears.

And that was when Akira noticed that she was wearing earpods.

Heat rushed up his face as Akira turned red in embarrassment. 'Genius.' he thought. 'You thought she was ignoring you. Ego much?' Akira scoffed at himself in his head.

The boy contemplated just reaching out to her once again, but embarrassed by his previous actions, he turned away.

Akira shoved his headphones onto his ears, playing a song on his phone at high-volume. 'It's just a pen.' he thought. He decided that he'll get it back when the girl gets down.

This wasn't a school bus, it was a public one, she'll get down at her stop.

Akira sighed, leaning back into his seat and shutting his eyes.

Unlike what Akira thought, the girl didn't get down at all.

He opened his eyes a few times to see if she got down, but she still sat there, eyes focused on the scenery and hair falling onto her face. Akira frowned, shifting his own sight to the landscape outside.

He didn't mean to fall asleep.

But the seat was too comfortable, the song just too beautiful, the world just too silent, as Akira let the wind lull him to sleep, slowly, softly.

The spring breeze blew through his hair, patting him into a deep sleep, one which none would wish to wake up from.

The next time Akira opened his eyes, the girl was gone.

The bus stopped at his school with a jerk, waking him up not so gently. His school was the bus' last stop, being far away from human civilization, just as the teachers here preferred.

Akira pulled his headphones off, eyes immediately averting to where the girl was sitting.

She was gone, leaving no trace of her presence.

It looked empty, the seat, he thought, without her hair that carried the wind, and eyes that swallowed the outside world.

Shaking his head at his thoughts, he stood up, scouring the floor for his precious pen, the one that caused this mess.

He found it easily, fallen right below the ridge of the window. He bent down to pick up the pen, standing up with the help of the seat.

Akira frowned; the seat was cold. The seat where the girl sat was devoid of warmth, and Akira concluded that her stop came far early.

Akira rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. 'You can become a detective at this rate.' he jested himself, chuckling.

Maybe he might consider it, becoming a detective, should his father's company (which he was to take over), ever ran itself into the ground.

For now, he better get to Business Administration class fast.

Before he scores detention on the first day.

We don't want a repeat of last year, after all.

The second time Akira met the girl was about three days into the semester, given that he'd missed the bus continually for the past two days, opting for his bike.

He had run onto the bus with barely a few seconds left, god forbid he misses the bus again.

Akira, with a brain that still hadn't started functioning (he'd woken up late that day), forgot to scan his bus card, earning him a few shouts from the conductor.

His unkempt hair, with his messy appearance and forgetful actions, had elicited a few laughs from the passengers.

Utterly embarrassed, the boy walked over to an empty seat, and since all the world's luck belonged to him (it did not), the bus suddenly came to a halt, throwing him backward harshly, like someone had socked him in the face.

The halt had Akira reeling back fast, as he almost slammed into a seat. What seat, you ask?

The same seat his pen had rolled under, the same seat which was empty the last time, the same seat which was occupied by the same girl, pretty brown hair now in a ponytail.

Only difference– she was looking at him.

Oh, she was looking at him.

She was looking at him?

Realization slammed into him, hard.

Almost as hard as the bus did, Akira noted. His cheeks flushed pink as he met her bold green eyes, almost as enticing as the forest outside.

The girl seemed confused as she stared back, shaking her head and turning away.

Akira noticed too late that he had been standing there for too long, and turned away, occupying a seat two rows behind– his seat, if the small carving in the metal saying 'Akii' had anything to say about it. (don't blame him, he was in 5th grade and carving names was all the trend).

The ravenette sat down, shoving his bag onto the seat, just as he had a few days ago. He pulled out his headphones, shoving it onto his ears.

Everything was the same– except, there was no pen rolling around, there was no embarrassment, and most importantly, Akira, who shut his eyes last time, now couldn't take it off the girl.

'She'll love you, if you love her...' And if the whole scene couldn't be more cliche, Akira's headphones were now playing background music, as if it was a romance drama and he was the second male lead.

Why the second male lead, you ask? Because the second male lead never gets the girl, of course, and from there, the girl seemed impossible to reach.

'Damn it.' Akira cursed in his head, for the umpteenth time since the morning, slamming the skip button so he could listen to some noise music, rather than letting the ballad feed to his delusions.

Funny thing, Akira noted, was that the girl never once turned away from the window. Even when the bus lurched, even when people got on, she never turned. Never.

Soon enough, they had reached Akira's school.

And the girl hadn't gotten down.

Akira frowned, eyes slightly red, the boy having deprived them of closing for a while. He had been staring at the brunette since then–'Like a creep', his mind pitched in– to see where she would get off.

He wasn't being weird, no. He was just curious. At least, that's what he told himself.

As the other students got down from the bus, Akira watched as the girl stood up too, swinging her bag over her shoulders and getting off.

And all his dreams of becoming a detective vanished, seeing as his deductions, (which he thought were awesome back then), were completely off point.

Akira stood up in a flash, running behind the girl. 'If not anything, I shall learn her name today.' he decided.

The girl had made him curious, more than he had ever been. And if she calls him a creep and runs away, he wouldn't take it to heart. Not when he knew he deserved it.

As Akira bounced down the last stair of the bus, he noticed that the girl was almost inside the gate. 'She's fast.' he noted, watching as her brown hair threatened to fall out of her ponytail as she walked, or to say, almost ran.

Akira tried to follow, but with all the people and the vehicles that crowded the gate, he lost sight of her.

She was gone, for the second time.

Lost in the wind.

Like a dream meant to be forgotten.

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒏

"ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪꜱᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ."

Akira’s days are predictable until a girl on his daily bus ride changes everything. Illiana is quiet, observant, and impossible to read, yet their small moments begin to matter more than he expects.

In the middle of all of this, Akira still needs to get to his Business Administration class. Before he's late. Again.

ＣＨＡＰＴＥＲ ＬＩＳＴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 - ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴋʏ ꜰᴀʟʟꜱ ᴅᴏᴡɴ

“So you want us to go fix a potentially haunted mansion?” “Yes!” Kazuya’s eyes sparkled with a suspicious amount of excitement. “No.” Rayne deadpanned.

Rayne Atlas never imagined he'd trade sun-soaked days at the beach for a summer in Transylvania, but here he is.

Dragged by his less-than-convincing friends, he's about to spend a week fixing up a decrepit mansion that could double as a set for a horror movie. This summer, what was supposed to be a mundane repair job spirals into an adventure, and they discover that some places hold more than just memories... they harbor grudges.

Rayne Atlas did not know the reason he agreed to this trip.

It was not because his friends were a convincing bunch; they were a bunch of idiots who would try to convince a chicken that it was a duck and come back convinced they were flamingos, set on a mission for world domination. 

It couldn’t have been for the place because no one would want to go to Transylvania in the middle of summer to help fix up his friend’s great-great aunt’s house. 

‘It was because of the weather,’ Rayne tried to reason with himself. He was conventionally wise–or so they say, so he couldn’t have signed himself up for a summer of pure work if there wasn’t an upside to it.

Brooklyn got crazy hot in the summer, like the universe just decided ‘Screw it’, and turned up the heat in the boiler. And as much as Rayne would love to spend his summer marinating in the bathtub, Transylvania must have sounded more appealing to his heat-muddled brain when his friends pitched their idea.

“I have an idea,” Kazuya announced, slamming open the bathroom door like the concept of knocking was beneath him, after he’d barged into Rayne’s house, like he wasn’t in the middle of taking a bath. 

“And it couldn’t wait five minutes?” Rayne screeched, trying to submerge his body deeper into the water-filled bathtub. “Good ideas don’t wait, Ray-ray.” Kazuya tutted, crouching next to the tub like they were about to plot a heist.

Rayne reached for the nearest object, his half-empty shampoo bottle, and threw it at Kazuya. The bottle bounced off his friend’s shoulder with a dull thud, sending a few droplets flying. 

Kazuya, ever unbothered, caught the bottle mid-bounce and set it gently on the sink. Rayne closed his eyes and took a long breath through his nose. “This better not involve farming. Or chickens. Or farming and chickens.”

Kazuya’s grin only widened. “Better. You, me, Elena, and Mal. Transylvania. A crumbling old house and enough creepy vibes to shoot an indie horror film. All expenses paid.” 

Rayne peeked through one eye. “You lost me at ‘horror film’, but ‘all expenses paid’ caught me. Elaborate.”

“Some great-great aunt of mine died recently,” Kazuya started. “Her last words were to take care of this mansion she bought in the middle of god-knows-where and left it to simmer in the chill of Transylvania for a few decades.” Kazuya flicked some water onto Rayne’s face. 

“So you want us to go fix a potentially haunted mansion?”

“Yes!” Kazuya’s eyes sparkled with a suspicious amount of excitement.

“No.” Rayne deadpanned, wiping the water off his face.

“Come on, Ray-ray. Think about it,” Kazuya tried to convince, donning his best version of puppy eyes. “No Brooklyn heat waves. No angry mothers trying to kill you for not doing the laundry. Just chill weather and an even chiller job.” Kazuya leaned in closer, whispering. 

Rayne stared at him. Then sighed.

“I swear to god, if I get possessed this summer, I’m haunting you first.”

Kazuya beamed. “So that’s a yes?”

“It’s a maybe.” Rayne agreed, hesitance evident in his voice. 

“He said yes!” Kazuya clapped his hands and stood up triumphantly. “Time to go on a road trip to a haunted house!” He said brightly. 

“Don’t call it that,” Rayne muttered, sinking back into the water. 

“And shut the door on your way out.”

Kazuya didn’t. Of course.

And that was how Rayne Atlas found himself going through customs at an airport two weeks later, holding a backpack, a suitcase, and a growing sense of dread.

“Sometimes–” A voice huffed, body slamming down onto the wooden bench next to Rayne. “–I wish I were an octopus. So I could slap eight people at once.” 

Rayne snorted. “Who was it this time?” He asks, flinching when the wind blows his jet-black hair right into his face. 

Elena Hale, a long-time friend, and a personal hater of all Rayne’s life choices, narrowed her icy-blue eyes, scoffing. “Rachel,” She hisses like the name was supposed to mean something.

It didn’t.

A beat of silence passes between them. Rayne rolls his eyes when he realizes Elena isn’t going to elaborate. “Are you going to tell me who Rachel is?” Rayne asks, tired gray eyes looking at the road ahead. 

The streets weren’t crowded, and neither was the airport. People weren’t usually looking to visit the horror capital mid-summer.

A shadow blocks the barely visible sun, black hair fluttering around in the Transylvania breeze. “Rachel was the lady sitting next to Eli on the flight.” A voice says, breathy, amused. 

Mallory Lorien hands Rayne a bottle of water, eyes gleaming in mischief as he almost drops it, surprised by the nail-biting chill that runs up his arm. “Eli decided she hates the woman.”

“Screw you.” Rayne hisses, frowning, before taking a huge gulp of the ice-cold water, shuddering. Whatever it took to quench his hour-long thirst because Kazuya was taking way too long to rent a car, that useless thing.

“With valid reason!” Elena defends, whipping her head to face Rayne, blonde hair falling out of her messy bun. “Rachel,” She spits out with venom. 

“Is a self-righteous piece of–ugh! She sat in the window seat, you know, and blindfolded herself because apparently, she was scared of heights, but when I offered to switch seats with her out of the kindness of my heart–”

“There is no kindness in your heart.” Mallory interrupted.

Elena glared at her. Mallory made a zipping motion with her hands. “–out of the kindness of my heart,” Elena repeated, insistence coloring her voice. “She started lecturing me on the importance of booking your flight seats and not bothering other people like her to exchange seats because everyone should sit in the seats they paid for!”

Rayne tried his best to stifle the laughter threatening to burst out of him, but he could swear Mallory noticed. 

“I don’t get it, I mean, all the seats are the same price!” Elena huffed, pulling the branded denim jacket closer to her body. Mallory nodded along to Elena’s whining, somewhat like she was indulging a child’s tantrum.

“No sign of Kazuya?” Mallory whispered, eyes scouring the entrance to the airport for any indication of an unmannered idiot with dark brown hair, possibly sticking his head out a window and driving with one hand. 

“No.” Rayne ran a hand through his hair, leaning back further on the bench, and shutting his eyes. “At this point, we might as well lay a tent here and camp.”

Mallory laughs, all sudden and unrestrained, like it had burst out of her. 

“Right, Kazuya,” Elena snapped her fingers in realization. “What’s the point of being rich if he can’t even travel business class?” Mallory rolled her eyes, sharing a glance with Rayne.

“Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to use it,” Mallory states, eyes narrowing onto Elena in more amusement than annoyance.

“I mean, look at Rayne.” The black-haired woman points, making the said boy shrug. “He’d be dressing like he’s homeless if Kazuya wasn’t helping him shop.” Mallory articulated. 

Rayne opened one eye, peeking and nodding his head in agreement. 

Elena pouted, mirroring Rayne’s position, more hair falling out of her bun and rendering it practically useless. Not that it was particularly useful in the first place, her wavy blonde hair falling only to her shoulder.

“You’re just mad Rachel stole your window seat.” Rayne chided.

“I hope Rachel forgets her passport in her hotel and misses her flight back.”

Mallory looks Elena right in the eye, face emotionless and deadpanned, “Poor Rachel.” 

Rayne had to pretend to yawn to stifle the laugh that threatened to burst out of him. Elena glared at Mallory, pulling the hair clip out of her hair to pull it back into a fashionable half-ponytail.

“Who's Rachel?” A voice piped up, startling Rayne’s last two living brain cells out of him.

“Holy shit!” Mallory screeched, jumping a whole meter back in fear, calm demeanor be damned. Elena was clinging to Rayne, horror evident on her face as she stared at the newcomer, first in shock, and then in annoyance. 

Rayne, on the other hand, hadn’t moved an inch, except for flinching when Elena’s manicured nails pierced crescent-shaped dents into his arm.

“Kazuya!” Elena chastised, lips pulling into a pout. 

“We need to put a bell on you,” Mallory muttered under her breath, gasping as Kazuya elbowed her jokingly. “I called your names like, twice.” Kazuya defended, a smile never leaving his face. 

“It’s not my fault you were too invested in Rachel–wait, who’s Rachel?” He asks again, untangling a strand of his hair from where it was intertwined with his earring.

“Rachel,” Rayne starts, standing up and abandoning his very comfortable position on the bench. “Will be the first one to throw dirt on your coffin if you don’t get your ass to the car right now.” 

Rayne’s almost-translucent grey eyes glare into Kazuya’s brown ones, watching as the almost six-foot man wilts away from him.

“Yes, sir!” Kazuya says, words hurried as the syllables all blur together.

Mallory trails behind Kazuya to help him load the luggage into the car he had rented out for the next two or more weeks, as Rayne rolls the suitcases over. 

“What took you so long?” Rayne muttered to his friend once the girls got comfortable in the backseat. 

“Oh.” Kazuya let out, sheepishly, like he hadn’t expected the question. “My sugar levels were running quite low, so I had to suspend my proceedings to replenish them by consuming some content with high sugar. To, you know, prevent hypoglycemia.” Kazuya states.

Rayne blinks. Once. Twice.

“...You were hungry, so you stopped for donuts.” 

“Yeah, I stopped for donuts,” Kazuya confirms. 

Elena smacks him in the head.

​🇳​​🇪​​🇽​​🇹​ ​→

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒕𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕ᵗᶜ

Rayne Atlas never imagined he'd trade sun-soaked days at the beach for a summer in Transylvania, but here he is.

Dragged by his less-than-convincing friends, he's about to spend a week fixing up a decrepit mansion that could double as a set for a horror movie. This summer, what was supposed to be a mundane repair job spirals into an adventure filled with laughter, danger, and a haunted house that promises a week Rayne will never forget.

As Rayne, with the eccentric Kazuya Ren, sarcastic Elena Hale, and unpredictable Mallory Lorien by his side, peel back the layers of dust and history, they discover that some places hold more than just memories–they harbor grudges.

𝖱𝖠𝖸𝖭𝖤 𝖠𝖳𝖫𝖠𝖲

“An apple a day keeps anyone away if you throw it hard enough. If it still doesn't, you should consider murder.”

𝖪𝖠𝖹𝖴𝖸𝖠 𝖱𝖤𝖭

“Hypothetically, at what point does fire become too much fire? Asking for a friend.”

𝖤𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖠 𝖧𝖠𝖫𝖤

“Darling, I chase goals, not people. Besides, I'm everyone's type.”

𝖬𝖠𝖫𝖫𝖮𝖱𝖸 𝖫𝖮𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖭

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised with a lighter. What was I going to do, not switch it on?”

ＣＨＡＰＴＥＲ ＬＩＳＴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1: ɪ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʏᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴛʜᴛᴜʙ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2: ᴀᴜɴᴛ ᴍᴀʀɢᴀʀᴇᴛ'ꜱ ᴄᴏꜰꜰɪɴ-ʀᴏʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍɪꜱᴇʀʏ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3: ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀᴇᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ꜰɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋ