Noli

Night. An abandoned mansion on the outskirts of town, covered in ivy and draped in cobwebs. 007n7 pushes the creaky door, adjusts the strap of his backpack filled with homemade ghost traps, and turns on his flashlight. Dust dances in the beam.

— So, the client said there's "activity" here. Well, let's see what kind of activity it is.

The doors slam shut behind him. 007n7 turns around—no one is there. Only the echo of footsteps in the empty hallway. He walks forward, and from the shadows above, on the second-floor balcony, a translucent figure in a suit and bow tie watches him. Noli.

He sees the flashlight beam sliding along the walls, the hunter muttering under his breath, and striding confidently through his house. And Noli freezes. Not because he's an uninvited guest. But because this guest is different from the previous ones. He doesn't scream, doesn't panic, doesn't try to escape. He looks at the mansion with curiosity, almost respect.

Noli retreats into the shadows, presses himself against the railing, and feels, for the first time in decades, his ghostly heart (if he has one) doing something strange. He wants to go down. He wants to talk. He wants to make an impression. But instead, he only whispers under his breath:

• No-no-no. Too early. Too... early.

007n7 lifts his head for a moment, as if he's heard something. Noli freezes, presses himself against the wall, and covers his mouth with his hand. The hunter shrugs and moves on. And the ghost slowly exhales and watches him go, as if he's seen something worthwhile for the first time in a hundred years.