Chapter 4: Midnight Visitor, Mortal Warning

That night, I was lying on my bed in my little attic room, eating apple slices and reading a romance paperback, when someone suddenly climbed in through the window. My heart skipped a beat.

The wind rattled the glass, and I nearly dropped my book. My heart leapt into my throat as a shadow moved across the moonlit floorboards.

I wrapped myself up tight in my quilt, ready to scream, but the person spun lightly to my bedside and covered my mouth with his hand.

His touch was warm, steady. My scream died in my throat, and I stared up at him, wild-eyed.

I looked up—what the heck? It was Ethan. What was he doing here? Regretting it and here to shut me up?

My mind raced through every worst-case scenario.

Maybe the fear in my eyes made him laugh. He gave a wicked grin and winked at me.

He looked so at ease, like this was all some elaborate prank. I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Hmm… If I’m not imagining things, there’s only one explanation.

I narrowed my eyes, searching his face for any sign of my old friend. There was something familiar in the way he smiled—mischievous, a little reckless.

I tried to say something—maybe his name—but it just came out muffled.

He smirked, let go of my mouth, and said softly, "Kid."

His voice was low, almost fond. Relief washed over me, and I let out a shaky breath.

I breathed a sigh of relief, relaxed, and socked him in the arm. "You scared the crap out of me! Why’d you take so long to show up?" I couldn’t help the grin that slipped out.

I shoved his shoulder, but he just laughed, ruffling my hair like he used to back in the day.

He—Ethan, whose body was temporarily possessed by my friend’s soul—sat on the edge of the bed. He patted my head.

He grinned, the old spark in his eyes. It was strange, seeing my friend’s mannerisms in Ethan’s body, but somehow, it felt right.

"I can only come out when his will is weak. Ethan prays every night, and only just now did he relax and fall asleep," he said, voice dropping to a whisper.

He looked tired, like the effort of holding on was wearing him down. I nodded, understanding more than I wanted to admit.

After all, my friend was just borrowing Ethan’s body. That head pat gave me goosebumps, but I just nodded.

I shivered, pulling the quilt tighter around me. This world was dangerous, but at least I wasn’t alone.

"I came especially to tell you: tomorrow at the ceremony, you must not make a blood pact with him," he warned, voice urgent but low.

His tone was serious, eyes locked on mine. I nodded, the gravity of his warning sinking in.

Blood pact?

My mind spun, trying to remember what that meant in this world. It sounded ominous, and definitely not something I wanted to get tangled up in.

I remembered that in this world, church weddings sometimes required both parties to swear loyalty on the family Bible, sealing it with a drop of blood. If either broke the vow, they’d be cursed with endless bad luck and misfortune. That’s why these marriages were rare and a really big deal.

The stories I’d read flashed through my mind—couples doomed by broken vows, families torn apart by curses. No thank you.

No wonder Ethan looked like he’d swallowed a bug that day.

I almost felt bad for him. Almost. That kind of pressure would make anyone squirm.

Anyone who wants that terrifying oath can have it. I’m out.

I made a silent promise to myself: no matter what, I’d find a way to dodge that bullet.