The apartment door creaked open with a soft groan.
Cassie stepped inside, her arms still sore from helping push that rickety cart up the alley slope. She let out a tired sigh, dropped her bag by the shoe rack, and toed off her sneakers with half her usual flair.
"…Mr Death?" she called softly.
Silence.
She blinked. "Mr Death, I swear if you're pretending to be a ghost to spook me again, I'll light every stick of incense I own and chant out of tune just to make you suffer."
No reply.
She frowned.
That was odd.
Usually by now, he'd be perched on the window ledge with that same annoying cup of black coffee, looking like a noir film villain with resting judgmental face. Or sprawled out on her second-hand couch like he paid rent and had just returned from a ten-hour shift haunting Wall Street.
But tonight, nothing.
The apartment felt… emptier.
Cassie paced into the living room and peeked behind the curtains. "You know, this whole mysterious-yet-ever-present grim reaper routine only works if you show up occasionally."
Still no response.
Cassie paused, staring at the moonlight spilling across her cluttered coffee table, the sketchbook she'd left open, a worn-down eraser lying on its side like it had collapsed from exhaustion.
A strange little ache bloomed in her chest.
She got up to go check outside her room, her brows knit together as she stared at the door across the hall.
His door.
That one door in the complex that never had packages outside, never emitted sound, never saw visitors. He never confirmed if he even lived there but he always came from that direction, didn't he?
Cassie hesitated.
Then padded across the hall in her socks.
She stood in front of it. Knocked twice. Lightly.
"…Mr Death?"
Nothing.
Her fingers curled into her sleeves. "Are you ignoring me? Did I offend your otherworldly pride or whatever it is you base your entire personality on?"
Still nothing.
Cassie leaned her head against the door and muttered, "I thought you were supposed to be my unskippable tutorial ghost."
She laughed, but it came out quieter than expected. The silence swallowed it fast.
Truthfully, she'd expected to find him waiting. After all, she'd just done something stupid and reckless again. She'd nearly died. That was usually the part where he'd appear like clockwork, scold her with the emotional range of a fridge.
But now…
Now she just felt cold.
Alone.
She took a step back from the door, arms wrapping around herself.
"Fine," she muttered, brushing her hair behind her ears with more force than needed. "Go off and do your mysterious shadow realm errands. See if I care."
But the words didn't have their usual bite. Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
Cassie turned and shuffled back to her own apartment, closing the door behind her with a sigh that felt far too heavy for such a small space.
She tossed herself onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the ceiling fan to blink or shift like it sometimes did when he passed through.
Nothing.
"…stupid grim reaper," she mumbled, "you didn't even say goodnight."
She pulled a throw blanket over herself and closed her eyes, trying not to admit how strange the emptiness felt without him.
Trying not to feel the absence of a shadow that had never been hers to begin with.
The day of the Fan Event
Cassie stood in front of her tiny mirror, biting her lower lip as she dabbed on a bit of blush.
"This is a waste of concealer," she muttered to herself. "It's not like Liya is going to hand me a golden opportunity for having symmetrical eyeliner."
Cassie stared at the invitation card again for the fifth time that morning. "Special Guest Entry - Fan Celebration for Liya Ross: A Night of Stardust."
The gold embossing sparkled under the weak sunlight from her cracked apartment window, but no matter how pretty it looked, Cassie still felt like she was walking into a lion's den.
"Why am I even going?" she muttered, tossing it onto the bed and rifling through her small wardrobe.
Adrian still hadn't shown up. It had been two days.
Cassie couldn't show up to a glamorous fan celebration in her pizza-delivery hoodie and ripped jeans.
She finally settled on a simple but flattering black dress she'd only worn twice before. It hugged her waist and flared around the knees. Modest, but nice.
She looked… presentable.
Not that she cared. Not really.
But still.
This was Liya.
Superstar. Fashion icon. Everyone's dream girl.
And Cassie? She was just the struggling artist who somehow managed to get an invitation after tailing the woman like a lunatic and then getting smiled at like she was a lost puppy.
"I don't trust her," Cassie muttered, grabbing her canvas bag and checking if she'd packed her sketchbook and pepper spray. "But I'll be damned if I'm not curious."
With a final sigh, she locked the door and headed out, the hallway unusually quiet.
Meanwhile…
Liya's hotel room overlooked the glittering cityscape like a goddess perched atop Olympus. Towering glass windows reflected the twinkle of neon lights, and soft jazz floated from hidden speakers across the pristine marble floors.
Liya Ross sat silently in front of her mirror.
The event was hours away, but her stylists had been dismissed.
She liked the quiet before the storm.
A white silk robe draped over her body like a queen's mantle. Her hair was wrapped up in soft curls, her skin flawless even without foundation. In the mirror, she looked angelic.
Radiant.
Perfect.
Her lips curled into a slow, small smile.
The dressing room was silent.
Liya sat in front of the grand vanity framed in bulbs, her reflection staring back with a practiced smile. Her flawless skin gleamed beneath powder and blush, lashes curled to perfection. Behind her, a rack of glittering gowns stood in silent vigil - testaments to her status, her control, her perfection.
Everything was perfect.
And yet…
A draft crept along the back of her neck.
Her fingers, holding a makeup brush, paused mid-stroke.
The lights flickered.
She turned slightly, scanning the room. Nothing but her reflection, the waiting gowns, and the heavy silence of a room used to worship.
Then
A shadow flitted across the mirror behind her.
Liya's hand jerked, dropping the brush.
She stood up, breath quick, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor as she looked around.
"Who's there?" Her voice was steady, sharp, used to commanding attention.
Silence.
She exhaled sharply and scoffed. "Get a grip."
But as she turned back to the mirror
The lights above her head buzzed, then dimmed unnaturally. One by one, the bulbs around the mirror winked out, until only a dull golden haze surrounded her.
Her reflection smiled.
Liya did not.
Her heart dropped and her eyes widened in horror.
The reflection tilted its head, her own lips twisting into a slow, mocking smirk that she hadn't made.
"No," she whispered. "Not today."
With firm determination,she turned back to the vanity, deliberately brushing her long lashes with a light hand. "You don't get to ruin today."
The lights flickered again. The shadows stretched along the wall like long fingers, twisting, reaching.
The temperature dropped.
Her mirror fogged at the edges despite no heat in the room.
Then, in the corner right where her perfume bottles sat neatly in a row, a flickering black figure shimmered like a heat mirage, smoky and alive.
Then the whisper came.
"Greedy little thing…"
"You took and took… didn't you…"
"Look what you've become…"
The shadows surged forward, slithering beneath her skin. She screamed and staggered back from the mirror, clawing at her arms.
Liya's hand trembled as she reached for her trinket, the charm she always kept close. She clutched it tight beneath her robe, as if the thin chain could protect her.
But the shadow came closer.
Right behind her.
She didn't need to look. She felt it. Cold breath against her ear. Her heartbeat slowed unnaturally.
"I've given you so many lives," she hissed, her eyes red with tears. "I gave up my childhood! I gave up my name!I worked harder than anyone else! I...I just wanted to be seen!"
The darkness didn't flinch.
A smirk twisted her lips, bitter and proud all at once.
"They were meant to burn out," she whispered. "I just… helped them go faster. I deserve this life."
The shadow pulsed behind her.
Her voice dropped, more desperate now, her eyes darting around fiercely, "Don't take it back. Don't...you can't. I'm not done yet. I still have more to be."
For a moment, the lights went out completely.
Then flickered back on.
The shadow was gone.
The room was quiet again.
But Liya didn't move.
She stared at her reflection; her beautiful, perfect, enviable face and suddenly slammed the hairbrush into the glass.
The mirror cracked like a spiderweb across her face.
She let out a single breath.
Smiled sweetly.
"Fix the mirror," she called out to no one. Then, softer, "I have fans to charm tonight."
Meanwhile
Cassie tugged at her hem, staring up at the massive venue where the fan celebration was being held. There were lights, music, and screaming fangirls all around. The energy was infectious.
"Alright, Cass," she muttered. "Try not to get possessed tonight. And don't eat anything suspicious."
With that, she slipped past the press barriers, waving her special invitation badge like it was a shield.
She didn't know what this night would bring.