Chapter 11: The Shadow Strikes

Night fell quickly. The crescent moon hung in the sky, tinged with blood-red.

A restless wind rattled the fire escapes, and the city seemed to shrink around me as I headed back to Natalie’s place. The lights from the hospital glowed against the clouds, casting long shadows in the alley.

By eleven, I entered the alley in the city neighborhood.

Tonight was only the fourth time since becoming a disciple that I opened my spiritual eyes.

Everywhere I looked—corners, dumpsters, dead-end alleys—there were wandering little spirits lurking in the damp darkness.

They slipped around lampposts and curled beneath broken windows, faded as old photographs. Most were harmless—just echoes, lost and lonely, hoping someone would notice.

These were usually poor souls missing parts of themselves, unable to move on. Over time, without help, their spirits grew weaker until they vanished from the world.

If lucky, they might meet a true priest or medium who could help them move on, giving them a chance at another life. But nowadays, real ones are rare—hidden in the countryside, seldom seen in the city. As for those who beg for money or hand out crosses and bracelets by the roadside, stay away.

They may not help you, but they surely have ways to hurt you.

As for those selling goods on TikTok, claiming their charms and bracelets are blessed—don’t be fooled. It’s all just a scam, exploiting the names of faith, donning robes and pretending to be experts.

For money, they’ve thrown away all the rules.

I’m not like priests or pastors. I don’t deliver ghosts, so I don’t bother with these wandering souls. As long as they don’t hurt people, I turn a blind eye.

It’s a quiet pact—live and let live, or whatever counts as living when you’re halfway between worlds.

Back at Natalie’s place, she had followed my instructions—the charms were up, and the mirror was reinstalled.

The shepherd dog was unusually quiet when it saw me again.

I told Natalie to go to bed, sprinkled some incense ash on the balcony, then sat quietly in the center of the main room. The dog guarded Natalie’s bedroom door. Though it didn’t bark, the ghostly gleam in its mismatched eyes never left me.

I squinted at the balcony.

To catch this ghost smoothly, I stuck a charm to my chest. This would keep me hidden from its sight.

It’s like being invisible—but only to ghosts, not to people.

The dog cocked its head at me.

I ignored it and closed my eyes to rest.

The wall clock ticked. The surroundings were so quiet you could hear a pin drop. With me in the house, Natalie seemed to sleep soundly, already snoring lightly.

The weight of the day pressed on me. The scent of cheap detergent lingered in the air, mixed with the faint trace of incense.

When I opened my eyes again, it was already midnight.

Not coming?

I frowned.

Just then, I saw the shepherd dog’s ears twitch. It looked toward the balcony.