"Alright, just wrapping things up," the admin staff said as she handed Matthew a small envelope. "You’re now officially listed under Dr. Muni’s internship program. This is your registration number, and these are your locker keys." She placed the tagged keys on top of a printed form and slid them across the desk.
She reached for another envelope. "This is your monthly stipend check. Starting next month, we’ll deposit it directly, your ATM card will be issued then. I’ve already scanned your passport, so when Dr. Muni travels, we’ll handle the tickets and arrangents on our end."
She tapped a small packet of docunts beside it. "Everything you need is in here—schedules, contact numbers, guidelines. If you have questions, call us or Dr. Muni directly."
Matthew nodded and accepted the keys, check, and paperwork without saying much. The woman behind the desk kept talking, explaining the procedures, contacts, and stipend details, but Matthew barely heard any of it. His head was pounding.
He cursed inwardly. Dr. Muni just actually led him to this building and then left without telling him what to do! What the heck is wrong with that old man!? Matthew wondered inwardly. He didn’t even ask Matthew if he wanted to be his intern!
Sadly, the ache in his head had returned, and all he could think of was his sleep. The borrowed energy he’d absorbed earlier was gone. He had already tried searching for any lingering ghosts along the hallway, but found nothing. Not even a flicker.
That didn’t make sense.
This university was one of the densest places, full of ghosts. It had more dead, lingering in its halls than half the locations in the black market. And yet now, when he needed just one, the place felt bone-dry.
He didn’t believe it was a coincidence.
Pocketing the check and slipping the paper into his bag, he left the registration building and walked down the steps. Each movent sent a dull throb into the base of his skull. All he wanted now was to lie down.
But just before he reached the path to the parking lot, Matthew ca to a halt.
To his right, tucked against the side wall of the building, was a quiet corner filled with fresh and wilted flowers alike, bouquets stacked gently, so tied with ribbons, others resting loosely in glass jars and old vases.
A few candles, now cold and unlit, were scattered among them. The scent of dried petals mixed faintly with the sll of wax and incense.
Above it all, mounted on the wall, was a frad photograph.
Matthew looked up and froze.
He knew that face.
Matthew took a step closer.
It was the sa ghost who had followed behind Argent the other day. The sa figure who tried to kill him on the black market! There was no mistaking it. But how was this man here?
He turned to the girl standing a few feet away. She wasn’t in uniform, probably a college student.
"Hey," he said. "Who’s that?"
She glanced at the photo, then back at him. "That’s my classmate. Jero. He went missing last month... they just found his body days ago. The school put that up this morning."
Matthew’s stomach twisted. He looked back at the photo.
Jero.
The na didn’t matter. Not to him. What mattered was the face. That exact sa expression he rembered, blank eyes, hollow stare, the sa dead energy that had flared with hostility back in the black market.
That ghost had lunged for him with the sole intent to kill.
He still rembered the pressure, how his body locked up when Jero’s presence flared. How the spiritual energy around them had turned razor-sharp, cold, and heavy like ice pressed against his throat.
Hatred.
That was the only thing he felt from the ghost.
Matthew took another step closer, his eyes narrowing at the photograph.
What kind of person was Jero before he died?
What did he have to do with Argent? From the mories that he had seen that day, it was clear that he was one of Argent’s victims. But it wasn’t clear if Argent had sothing to do with his death.
And why the hell did he try to kill Matthew?
His head pulsed again, stronger this ti, but he ignored it.
He muttered a quick thanks and moved on. The headache had worsened, but he forced himself forward until he reached the parking area behind the campus.
Ottep was already waiting by the car, arms crossed, leaning casually against the hood.
But he wasn’t alone.
Lenox was standing directly in front of the vehicle. Catherine stood a few steps behind him.
Matthew stopped walking.
He shut his eyes for a second and let out a breath. His head felt like it had been stuffed with hot gravel. All he wanted to do was crawl into the back seat and pass out.
Instead, he opened his eyes and looked at Lenox.
"What do you want this ti?"
Lenox didn’t answer right away.
Whatever this was, he wasn’t in the mood for any of it.
"Lenox was just chosen to beco Mrs. Johnson’s intern," Catherine said. "He would like to invite you to dinner along with the others."
Matthew looked at Catherine for a second. Then he started walking towards his car.
"Hey! I’m talking to you!" Catherine yelled. She was about to follow Matthew, but Lenox stopped her.
"Matthew," Lenox called out, but Matthew kept walking.
"Hey!" he called again.
This ti, Matthew stopped. "I still have things to do," Matthew said.
"But, I—" Lenox wasn’t able to finish his words when Matthew suddenly shot him a look. Then, without waiting for a reply, Matthew got into the car and shut the door.
"Ottep," he muttered, leaning his head back, "drive."
The car pulled out of the parking lot smoothly. Matthew closed his eyes, and within minutes, the exhaustion overtook him. He didn’t even rember falling asleep.
By the ti he opened his eyes again, they were already back at the estate. He didn’t say anything. He headed straight to his room, peeled off his uniform, washed up in silence, and collapsed onto the bed again.
That night, his sleep was restless, filled with dreams about the photo of the missing man he had seen.
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