Mysterious Awakening

Miles had been stationed by the window for a significant amount of time. It wasn’t until the ghostly grey realm had fully dissolved from view that his rigid posture began to soften.

“We got lucky,” he murmured, “It was just drifting past. Otherwise, I would’ve been forced to retreat. An apparition of that potency would mean certain death to anyone who dares to face it. And judging by its appearance, despite not being confined or imprisoned, it appears to be under some form of constraint. That explains the deliberately folded hands around that gold candleholder, a technique the ghost tamers probably discovered to suppress its lethal means.”

But then his brow suddenly knitted together, “But is it the candlelight that’s affecting the ghost? Or is it the candleholder itself?”

Miles sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer: “The world of ghost tamers holds too many secrets. It seems that they’ve uncovered some effective strategies to deal with these spirits. Is it because my rank is low that I’m oblivious to these methods? Or are various nations deliberately suppressing this knowledge?”

Then he scoffed at how ridiculous human beings are, “In the face of such a global catastrophe, are we still in a state of competition and conflict?”

Miles found himself lost in thought. Survival wouldn’t be achieved by casually taming ghosts. He was certain that Ethan’s way was flawed. Survival required striving for a higher position, enhancing status, and possibly even accumulating power. This was the only way to reveal more secrets and information that was out there.

Miles did not wish to remain in ignorance, waiting for an inevitable end. As he contemplated this, his eyes fell on the parchment of human skin on the table, held down by a golden box. It was as if all secrets were etched onto it but at an exorbitant cost. It wasn’t going to part with crucial information easily.

After a few moments of deep thought, he had a clear plan of what was next. He turned to River, “Stop staring at me as though you’ve been orphaned. It was just a wandering spirit outside; we’re safe now. Did you bring the fried rice I wanted? I plan to eat and then rest.”

River responded with a shaky voice, “It’s in the bag.”

“Thank you,” Miles said, proceeding to eat nonchalantly. His ability to maintain composure was uncanny, making him believe he could still have his meal, even if surrounded by corpses. Was this a sign of psychopathy?

As River watched Miles eat with an appetite, she felt a sense of reassurance. After a relieved sigh, she muttered, “I’m going to take a bath. If something happens, remember to come in and save me. I promise to be good.”

“Don’t worry,” Miles replied without missing a beat, “If anything happens, I’ll cover your cremation expenses.” He continued eating as if nothing had happened.

River fell silent…

Miles couldn’t guarantee her safety. If confronted with a high-level ghost, his instinct would be to flee without a second thought. At most, out of respect for their shared experiences, he might return to collect her remains once the danger had passed.

“Don’t worry, everything will be okay. I will survive,” River whispered to herself during her shower, patting her cheeks in a gesture of self-encouragement. “I’ve lived through that nightmarish mall incident, what else can intimidate me? I’ve faced a ghost already. As long as Miles is by my side, I don’t fear them. He may not say it outright, but I can tell he’s trustworthy.”

“Firstly, I need to become his girlfriend so that he has a reason to protect me. Being his mistress would suffice too.”

She blushed at her plan, feeling slightly audacious trying to seduce an eighteen-year-old. It felt borderline illicit.

“But it’s alright,” she reassured herself, “since I’m a woman. It would be a different story if the roles were reversed.”

Once she finished her bath, River dried her hair and freshened up in front of the mirror. Her reflection glowed, her face playful, and her bath towel accentuated her mature figure. River was confident in her allure, having been pursued by many admirers since her university days.

She was a pragmatic woman who viewed love and marriage as strategic investments. In her opinion, there was no better investment than a promising prospect, which was how she viewed Miles.

“I’m out now! You must have been waiting anxiously,” she called out seductively as she stepped out of the bathroom.

Yet, silence filled the room.

A glance at the empty food container on the table and a quick peek upstairs confirmed her suspicion. Miles had retired to bed.

“He couldn’t even wait for me,” she sighed, wrapping her robe tighter around her as she ascended the stairs.

Upon seeing Miles sprawled across the entire bed, she rolled her eyes at his emotional obliviousness.

“Miles, are you asleep?” she asked, snuggling into his arms.

“No,” Miles answered, opening his eyes.

River chuckled, “I knew you weren’t asleep. How long have you been waiting? Are you hungry?”

“I’m not hungry, I’ve already eaten,” he said.

Ignoring his response, River looped her arms around his neck. “Food is routine. Haven’t you heard of a feast for the eyes?”

“Please, stop moving. I’m feeling a bit under the weather,” Miles admitted, a thin sheen of cold sweat forming on his forehead.

Once again, the side effects of controlling a malevolent ghost were manifesting. His body was growing increasingly immobile, yet he could feel the restless stirrings of the hidden ghost’s eye within him.

“Are you feeling unwell? Can I check?” River inquired, her tone laden with seductive undertones. Leaning in, she gently kissed his cheek, “Did that make you feel a bit better?”

As she pulled away, an eerie, crimson eye peered out from a sudden slit in Miles’s face.

“Ah!” River cried out, almost leaping off the bed in surprise.

“I warned you to stop moving around,” Miles stated flatly, “I’m not fully in control of the ghost within me right now. If it seeks to harm you, I won’t be able to prevent it.”

“Wha… how is that possible?” River gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

“I can confront ghosts because I’ve partly become one,” Miles clarified, “What do you think empowers us to face such entities? Intelligence? Courage? Or do you actually believe in psychic abilities, Taoist magic, or witchcraft?”

“Drawing power from a ghost has its price, and this is part of it.”

“Getting close to me won’t be beneficial for you. I’m merely taking temporary shelter here. Once my affairs are in order, I’ll move on without disrupting your life or work.”

River appeared stunned, processing Miles’s true nature.

“Will you continue to protect me then?” After a moment of hesitance, she considered leaving but found herself unable to detach from him.

“No,” Miles replied frankly, “I don’t have a duty or obligation to save you. This applies to everyone, not just you. Your survival at the mall was sheer luck because I happened to be there on a paid paranormal assignment.”

“But I… I don’t want to die. I want to live and live well,” River murmured, cautiously leaning into Miles’s arms, “Will there be more ghost incidents in the future?”

“Yes, paranormal activities will likely increase,” Miles admitted without sugar-coating, “Soon, everyone worldwide will be aware. As of now, the majority are oblivious. Death could come unannounced. It could be a phone call, a knock at the door, or even while they’re sleeping.”

“If I were to share your bed, would you protect me then?” River asked tentatively, avoiding the ghostly eye.

“No,” Miles responded bluntly.

“What can I offer for you to agree to help me?” River asked.

“If you prove yourself useful, aid me with certain tasks – much like you did back at the mall by monitoring the surveillance footage – then I’d consider protecting you. It would be an equivalent exchange,” Miles stated, turning to face her, “Rescuing people without good reason only puts oneself in danger.”

“In that case, I can be your personal assistant. As an accountant, I have a wide range of skills.”

“Do you have any knowledge of finance, specifically stock trading?” Miles inquired.

“Yes, I gained practical experience during my internship,” River confirmed.

“Can you handle high-profile clients?”

“Yes, I have access to numerous quality client resources. If you’re considering a paranormal venture, I can provide assistance.”

“And what about translations?” Miles asked.

“I’m proficient in English translation,” River assured.

“You seem quite adept in your professional skills?” Miles said, sounding somewhat impressed.

He had to concede that River was more capable than he had initially perceived. Although, he was cautious not to disregard the possibility that she might be overselling her abilities.

“If you’re not prepared to return to your regular work, you could consider working for me. I do have certain tasks that need attending to. In addition to your salary, I’ll provide you with protection,” Miles proposed in all seriousness.

He could consider assembling a core team.

If he planned on becoming a ghost tamer in the future, solo operations wouldn’t be sustainable.

“Really?” River exclaimed in surprise.

It appeared that Miles wasn’t as hard to deal with as she had imagined.

“It’s only a trial run. I don’t have prior experience in managing a team,” Miles clarified. “It’s quite late, I need to rest.”

His paralysis finally subsided, and the situation was more bearable than in the previous instance. It appeared that the red paper was still functional. However, the mental fatigue quickly lured him into sleep.

River glanced at Miles, puzzled by his thoughts, and eventually drifted off to sleep nestled in his arms.

Meanwhile, as Miles slumbered, Master Catch, who had just given his statement, emerged from the station with his surviving disciple and the driver who hadn’t entered the mall.

“Damn, talk about a run of bad luck. After over a decade in the feng shui business, we finally encounter a genuine ghost. Not only did we not earn anything, we had to shell out from our own pockets. What a rip-off! Plus, we can’t return for a month and need to report daily,” Master Catch grumbled.

“Let’s find a hotel to rest,” he suggested.

En route, the driver suddenly queried, “Hey, how’d you get that scar on your neck?”

Master Catch’s disciple reached for his neck, feeling the sensation of his skin splitting open, exposing raw flesh underneath.

“No, it’s nothing. I must have accidentally scratched it,” he responded nonchalantly.

“Oh,” the driver didn’t probe further and focused on the road.

As the driver turned away, the disciple’s eyes grew dull and lifeless. His complexion, once vibrant, now appeared as pale as a ghost, completely drained of color.