"Who would’ve thought solving math is more tiring than running a marathon?" Matthew muttered, setting down his pen and rubbing his eyes. He had just finished the last page in today’s stack. One hour never felt so long.
"I’m done for the day," he said, leaning back in the chair. He wanted to ask the man why he wanted him to solve those things, but chose to keep his question to himself. Knowing too much isn’t good, he thought.
Dr. Muni didn’t look up. He just gave a short nod and waved him off like a mosquito.
Matthew snorted, grabbed his bag, and left the office without another word.
In his past life, Lenox never ntioned anything like this. His job under Dr. Muni had been simple, keep track of the man’s schedule, brew coffee, maybe tidy up the office. He was basically a glorified assistant. Matthew had assud it’d be the sa.
He was wrong.
The old man had him solving statistics like a personal calculator.
Now, his head throbbed and his stomach grumbled, not from hunger for food, but from sothing else entirely. He needed to feed again. The kind of hunger only a soul or spirit stone could fix.
He made his way toward the old building, hands in his pockets. Thankfully, the ghost girl had disappeared earlier. Maybe she finally got tired of—
"Hey, I thought you already left school," her voice chid in right behind him. "Where are you going?"
He stopped walking and closed his eyes for a second. Of course.
"Ho," he said flatly, continuing down the corridor. It was already past six in the evening.
"I thought you were going to help with my body?" she asked, floating up beside him.
"Stop making it sound so gross," he replied.
"Well, are you going to help or not?"
"I will," Matthew said. "But weren’t you the one who said you’d make stronger first?"
She paused, hovered around him, then gave him a slow once-over. "You are weak. Pathetically so. You wouldn’t find anything in your current state. Fine. Co with ."
"I’m not following you again," Matthew said without stopping.
"This is different," she replied. "I know a place. There are spirit stones. Untouched. Enough to get you started."
"I don’t need spirit stones right now," Matthew said. He stopped walking and looked at her. "What I need is soone who can tell everything about the Nexians."
She floated back a few inches, then tilted her head. "Isn’t that going to be my job?"
Matthew eyed her warily. Sothing about her didn’t sit right. She didn’t look like soone he could trust. If anything, she looked his age, dressed like a samurai pulled straight out of feudal Japan.
The long robe, the tied-up hair, the way she hovered with a strange mix of pride and mischief, it was all a little too on-the-nose.
Was she a cosplayer?
He frowned. Could soone actually die in costu and stay like that as a ghost? That would be ridiculous... right?
What if soone died dressed as a hotdog? Would they be stuck forever, roaming the afterlife wrapped in mustard or sothing?
He shook his head and forced the thought away. Not the ti for weird theories.
"I know what you’re thinking," the ghost girl said with a snort. "But I ca from a family of specialists, experts. I can help you manage your abilities—if you help find my body."
Matthew gave her a sidelong glance. "You don’t even know what my ability is."
"Doesn’t matter," she said. "Being a Nexian follows a pattern. The core chanics don’t change. Unfortunately for you, it’s a closed community. Secretive as hell. You won’t find any books lying around, maybe except the Vatican but that’s none of your concern, at least not now that you are as weak as an ant."
Matthew pressed his lips together. She wasn’t wrong.
In his past life, he hadn’t even started looking into Nexians until he was in his forties, after an incident involving Lenox that changed everything. He’d scoured libraries, worked with underground scholars, and even helped translate fragnts of ancient codices rumored to contain answers. None of it led anywhere.
"Fine," he said at last. "I’ll trust you this ti. But—"
"But what?" she asked, floating closer.
"If you try anything... I’ll find your body and turn you into a museum exhibit. Glass case. Desiccated limbs. The whole thing."
"You—!" The ghost girl sputtered, clearly ready to snap back, but Matthew had already turned away and started walking.
"Let’s go," he said over his shoulder. "Show where this spirit stone is."
Matthew pulled out his phone and sent a quick ssage. "Ottep, head back to the mansion. I’m taking the car."
The reply ca almost instantly: Understood, Young Master.
By the ti Matthew reached the parking lot, Ottep had already stepped out of the driver’s seat. Without saying anything, he handed the keys over. Matthew got in. The ghost girl floated through the car and settled into the passenger seat.
"Go east," she said, crossing her legs on the seat.
Matthew started the engine but frowned. "East? That’s the protected zone. Creek Park, forest trails, governnt-monitored land. There are guards patrolling that area all the ti, especially during the night. Are you sure it’s there?"
She looked at him and shrugged. "It’s there, just trust ."
He didn’t argue. He drove in silence, eyes flicking to the dashboard clock every so often.
Destin City sat near the southern border of Nevada, straddling a dry strip of desert land and low-elevation forests.
Unlike the colder states up north, the winters here barely touched freezing. Snow was a rumor, not a reality. During the day, the sun cooked the pavent. At night, the wind carried whispers through the canyons. To put it simply, there wasn’t anything special about this place.
The eastern part of the city itself was a strange blend—modernized downtown sectors, aging suburban blocks, and just beyond the outer edge, lands marked by old military fences and half-buried signs.
East of the city stretched the Creekline Ecological Preserve, an area once open to hikers and campers but closed off a decade ago. The official reason: environntal restoration.
But people talked about other things. Energy readings. Disappearances. Aliens. Ranger trucks were a common sight by day, but co night, it wasn’t just park rangers who patrolled the boundary—it was unmarked military personnel, too.
Matthew had never been there personally, as the school and the mansion were on the western part. He’d only heard the rumors growing up. It wasn’t a place people wandered into without consequences.
Moreover, after he married Catherine, they chose to go to San Francisco and help Lenox establish himself. Then they had been moving around doing business.
Thirty minutes later, he turned off the main road and onto a narrow, unused side lane that bordered the preserve. The trail was barely visible now, reclaid by weeds and scattered gravel. He pulled over and parked behind a stretch of trees just off the path, out of sight from any passing patrols.
He killed the engine and stepped out. The air slled dry and heavy with dust. Sowhere beyond the tree line, the forest waited.
"We’ll go from here."
The ghost girl phased out through the door while Matthew stepped onto the gravel. He locked the car and headed toward the treeline. The entrance to the forest was roped off with a sign that read Restricted Access. He ducked under it.
The forest was quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves. The further they went in, the more the trail faded. He kept walking, hands in his pockets, watching the ghost girl float ahead of him.
"How far is it?" he asked.
She didn’t turn around. "Not far."
He didn’t like how vague that was. Still, he kept going. The trees grew denser, and the canopy above blocked most of the light. He glanced behind him once. No one was following.
"I can sense Nexians," the ghost girl said suddenly. "Well, more specifically, I can sense that unique spiritual energy inside a person. It’s like knowing whether a rock has a gem hidden inside. Sa concept."
Matthew didn’t respond. He only nodded. She’d already claid she could detect spiritual stones earlier, so it wasn’t a surprise she could sense the energy in people too.
Still, if that was true, wouldn’t she have been incredibly valuable to her family? Soone with that kind of ability could’ve been used for all kinds of things.
He glanced at her but didn’t ask. He’d learned the hard way that curiosity could cost more than it was worth.
"We’re here," she said.
Matthew stopped and looked around. Trees. Dead leaves. Dirt. It looked no different from the last few clearings they had passed.
"Where are the stones?" he asked.
She pointed at the ground in front of him, then turned to him with a grin.
"Now dig."
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