#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.

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.

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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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