Chapter 3: Shattered Secrets, Ghostly Allies

The chat was moving so fast, it was almost hypnotic. I wondered if anyone was actually believing what they were seeing.

Because of the stream delay, when viewers heard Savannah’s words, the comments blew up again:

[u/SpillTheTea: No wonder I always see them compared. So it was all paid PR.]

[u/FanFan: Uh... so... Savannah’s reputation is toast?]

[u/PRRealist: Isn’t it normal to buy PR? I don’t believe Lila never did it.]

The conspiracy theories were flying. I half-expected someone to bring up aliens next.

Even though Savannah confessed to buying smear campaigns, plenty of fans still defended her.

Some netizens who never liked Savannah started mocking her:

[u/OldSchoolHater: Never liked her. Turns out my gut was right—she’s not a good person.]

[u/JusticeForLila: Savannah’s stans, stop defending her. She copied Lila, stepped on her to rise up, and now keeps putting her down. Disgusting.]

The show’s popularity exploded at this moment. Seeing Savannah looking half-dead, a few ghostly ideas popped into my head.

The spirit energy was practically crackling in the air. If Dad could see me now, he’d be so proud. Or terrified.

Why not take this chance to really spook her?

No sooner thought than done, I rolled my head to Savannah’s feet.

I put on my creepiest smile and pressed my face to hers:

"What did you do? Confess, or I’ll drag you down to the underworld with me... Heh-heh-heh."

My voice dropped an octave, channeling every horror movie villain I’d ever seen. Her eyes went wide as saucers.

Before I could finish, my head was suddenly picked up by a pair of big hands.

The grip was gentle, but firm. For a moment, I thought I was about to be tossed like a football.

Turning around, I saw it was Tyler Blake.

He looked calm, almost bored, as if picking up decapitated heads was just another Tuesday.

As a product of the afterlife, I naturally repel humans. I don’t like being touched by them; when they touch me, I feel cold all over.

Usually, it’s like getting dunked in an ice bath. But this time, nothing. Not even a shiver.

But when Tyler picked me up, I felt nothing at all.

That means...

I stared at him, realization dawning. My mind raced through every weird interaction we’d ever had. It all clicked.

No wonder, when I tried to wear other male celebs’ clothes before, my original target wasn’t Tyler, but wearing anyone else’s stuff made me feel awful. Only Tyler’s clothes felt fine.

He’d always acted so chill about it, too. Now I knew why.

My stomach dropped. I stared at Tyler in shock. He looked helpless and whispered to me:

"Lucy, if you keep this up, it’ll be hard to explain later."

Of course he does. He knows my real name.

I blinked, stunned. Only spirits—or my family—knew that name.

I instantly understood. Looks like he’s also a spirit from the afterlife—probably another one sent by my dad to collect spirit energy.

Was this a setup? Or just another day in the spirit gig economy?

I folded my arms and pouted, not quite willing:

"Fine."

I tried to sound grumpy, but honestly, I was relieved. At least someone here knew the rules.

Rule No. 1: no jump-scaring mortals. That’s the afterlife’s Terms of Service. Those who come to the living world can’t show their true form to scare people.

We can’t hurt anyone, but just showing up as we are can scare the timid out of their wits.

The afterlife’s PR department is still cleaning up after the Salem thing. No repeats.

So when we come to the living world, we either take human form or wander around invisible.

I just fell apart on a live broadcast. If I don’t explain, I’ve caused a huge disaster.

The afterlife had a whole department for handling supernatural leaks. I did not want to be their next case file.

Luckily...

Tyler is here.

He gave me a tiny, reassuring wink. I almost smiled back.

"Alright, thank you everyone. How was this little skit Lila and I rehearsed?~"

Tyler brought my head up to the camera, gently patted it, and I heard him say under his breath:

"Don’t move, follow my lead."

His hand was steady, his voice smooth. I nodded, letting him take the spotlight.

Then he turned back to the camera.

"Everyone, don’t be scared. This is just a special effects dummy—shoutout to our practical effects team and all that foam latex."

He smiled, holding up my head like a prop from a haunted house. The crew started to relax, some even laughed nervously.

After he said that, he tugged my ear and murmured, "Turn your head to the right."

I did as told. After a few rounds, the comments started to settle down:

[u/BehindTheScenes: Haha, I knew it was fake. How could someone just split apart?]

[u/SavannahStan: Those dragging Savannah, feel dumb now? It’s acting.]

[u/MethodQueen: So that’s it. Savannah’s acting is so good—best in the room.]

[u/SFXDoubter: No way that’s a dummy, y’all.]

A few diehards still called it a cover-up, but most people just moved on to the next scandal.

With the supernatural incident explained, Tyler smiled and signed off:

"Alright, we’re pausing the stream to clean up the room. See you soon."

He flashed a peace sign at the camera, classic Tyler. The crew let out a collective sigh of relief.

After the stream ended, Tyler let out a long sigh.

He looked at me, shaking his head like a tired babysitter. I almost felt guilty. Almost.

He carried me straight past the collapsed Savannah. As we passed her, I raised my eyebrows at her smugly.

She whimpered and buried her face in her hands. I might’ve felt bad if she hadn’t tried to sabotage me five minutes ago.

She screamed again, and as Tyler was about to leave the living room with me, Savannah called out softly:

"Tyler, was that really... acting?"

Her voice was shaky, almost hopeful. Tyler paused and left a meaningful smile.

"What kind of dummy would be that realistic?"

He let the question hang in the air. Savannah looked like she was about to faint again.

Tyler carried me back to his room, placed me on the bed, and pulled a bronze mirror from behind the pillow.

The mirror shimmered with a faint blue glow. I recognized it instantly—spirit tech, the good kind.

With one glance, I recognized it as a tool for contacting the afterlife.

Dad only let me use the basic model. Tyler’s was top-shelf, probably with unlimited minutes.

Tyler waved his hand, and my dad’s big face appeared in the mirror.

Dad was lounging on a velvet chaise, surrounded by pin-up phantoms offering him ghostly martinis. Typical.

Why does Tyler’s mirror connect to the afterlife without my dad’s permission? His mirror seems way more advanced than mine.

I made a mental note to ask for an upgrade next time.

My dad was surrounded by several Old Hollywood starlet spirits, eyes glazed, enjoying the drinks they offered.

He looked like the afterlife’s answer to Hugh Hefner. I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.

"Harvey Whitaker!"

Are you serious right now? While I’m working my butt off in the living world to earn spirit energy, this old man is living it up in the afterlife.

I couldn’t help myself—I shouted his full name, just to get his attention. The spirits around him scattered.

My roar startled my dad. He looked around and finally spotted me.

He squinted, then did a double-take. “Lucy? Is that you?”