Before I could speak, the lights went out. Everywhere became total darkness. When the room lit up again, the figure was gone.
The apartment stayed silent for long after the figure disappeared. The silence was not normal, it felt aware like the walls themselves were listening to see what I would do next.
I stood frozen in the middle of the living room, staring at the empty space near the kitchen where the thing had been standing seconds ago. My pulse still hadn’t slowed down. The lights above me buzzed weakly like they were recovering from something.
Then behind me I saw Ren flicker again. The movement dragged my attention towards him immediately. He wasn’t looking good. He looked worse than before.
Not physically injured exactly — ghosts probably didn’t get bruises but they were unstable. The edges of him blurred for half a second before sharpening again, like reality kept losing its grip on him.
My exhale came out unsteady. “Okay,” I said slowly. “I think we are past the point where you get to say mysterious things and then stare into corners dramatically.”
Ren didn’t answer immediately, that alone annoyed me.
“You owe me an explanation,” I continued. “A real one this time, no cryptic nonsense, no pretending I’ll ‘understand later.’ I live here. Apparently I’m spiritually married and a demon accountant just walked into my apartment and threatened your existence. So start talking.”
His eyes lifted to mine slowly. “He is not a demon”
I gave him a side eye. “Fantastic”, I said flatly. “That somehow made me feel worse.”
Something almost amused flickered across his face before it disappeared again.
“He is called a Broker,” Ren explained quietly. “An enforcer of spiritual contracts, older than most things you would understand how to name. He collects unresolved souls tied to unfinished agreements.”
The cold in the room suddenly felt sharper somehow.
“He collects souls?” I repeated. The word sat wrong in my mouth.
“He does not see himself as cruel,” Ren said quietly. “To him this is a procedure. A contract exists. The terms are fulfilled or they are not. He takes what remains.”
“And he's never failed”?
“No.”
“Not once in centuries?”
“No.”
His response landed heavily in my head. I took a step back and slowly sat down on the floor. That answer disturbed me more than anything else so far.
Not because of what it meant for the broker but because of what it meant for Ren.
I looked at him again. Really looked this time.
The flickering had stopped for now, but he still looked strained around the edges somehow. Like holding himself together required concentration.
“You said I’d find out soon enough,” I muttered. “What exactly happens if this contract fails?”
He kept silent for a minute. I was already anxious because of the way he kept silent. Then he spoke.
“I disappear”
I remained still. He said it calmly, too calmly. Like someone talking about weather instead of his own existence. I hated that immediately. I stood up immediately and started pacing around.
“This is insane,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t asking for agreement.”
“I know.”
That dry response irritated me enough to stop me spiraling completely.
“And somehow you are the Broker’s oldest case.”
Something unreadable crossed his face.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He paused for a second then spoke. “Because I have lasted longer than anyone expected.”
That answer told me absolutely nothing and somehow too much at the same time.
I frowned immediately “You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?” he asks.
“Answering questions without actually answering them.”
For the first time, Ren looked faintly uncomfortable.I noticed it immediately. A heavy silence settled between us, and was broken by the soft rain tapping against the windows.
Then I asked the question that had been sitting heavily in my chest since all of this started.
“My grandmother,” I said carefully. “What exactly did she know?”
Ren’s expression changed so slightly most people probably wouldn’t have caught it.
I did.
His shoulders tensed a little, barely noticeable. He looked away for a moment, then back at me.
“She understood the contract,” he said slowly.
“That is not what I asked.”
There was another long silence. I watched him think before he spoke, like he was being careful not to step on something he couldn’t see. Even without words, I could tell he wasn’t telling me everything he was holding parts of it back on purpose.
And the worst part was the feeling that it wasn’t just a little more he was hiding… it was a lot more, the kind that could change everything if I ever managed to pull it out of him.
I got angry. “You knew her before she died.”
“Yes.”
“And she planned this.”
“She believed she was helping.”
I laughed softly under my breath, but there wasn’t anything funny in it.
“That seems to be everyone’s favorite excuse lately.”
Ren didn’t respond. I stopped pacing then and looked directly at him.
“Listen carefully,” I said. “I do not care how old this contract is. I do not care how powerful that thing was. If I’m trapped in this situation, then I deserve the truth.”
His gaze stayed fixed on mine.
“You do not get to manage me,” I continued. “You do not get to decide what information I can handle while supernatural disasters casually happen in my apartment.”
Something shifted in his expression, not annoyance, not the careful blankness he wore. Relief. Like he had been carrying something heavy for a long time and had just been given permission to set it down.
“I understand,” he said quietly.
His voice sounded too sincere, and it caught me off guard more than I wanted to admit. I looked away first.
After that, the apartment went quiet again, less hostile somehow. I was on my way to my room when exhaustion hit me all at once.
Without another word, I crouched beside the bed and grabbed the wooden box, intending to shove it back underneath and pretend my life hadn’t collapsed in the span of forty-eight hours.
The wood scraped softly against the floor as I pulled it closer. That’s when I noticed something tucked underneath it.
Frowning, I pulled it back toward me. There was a tear in the inner lining near the bottom corner.
I pushed two fingers carefully into the gap. There was a paper.
My stomach tightened immediately. Slowly, I pulled out a second envelope hidden beneath the lining of the box. It was older than the others and thinner. The handwriting across the front wasn’t my grandmother’s.
Behind me, Ren went completely still.
“Luna,” he said quietly.
I turned the envelope over and saw my name written across the back in dark ink that looked impossibly fresh.
