Does she have a point?
Horrible people roam the streets, lucky enough to escape Death's attack, while innocents are caught in their place. Death doesn't do a good job. In a flower field, Death plucks only the ones that bloom the brightest, leaving the rotten to keep polluting.
She has a point, but that doesn't mean murder is okay. Does it?
Is a life for a life truly a fair trade?
"Skiing accident."
"I'll take you there one day."
"She doesn't even deserve to breathe, let alone roam free."
"Tell me more about…" I gestured at Sophie's new, voluptuous body, with curves that would bewitch any college boy. Unfortunately, they weren't her twisted type. "… Her."
"I think you've heard the end of it. Debbie Brown. Terrible daughter. Terrible sister. Terrible human being in general. So far, child porn is the furthest she's gone."
"And this is information you've gathered after how long of haunting her?"
"At least a week."
A ghost would haunt someone, follow their target, get to know them, until they eventually became them, physically and mentally. Sophie would know more about Debbie than Debbie's own parents.
"Waste of oxygen," I commented.
"So I have a point, right?" She shook her head, calmer than one would expect. "Maybe I didn't have a point when attacking you. For that, I'm sorry. But for Debbie—"
"I still don't think we should kill her," I said finally.
Sophie pressed her lips together, her fingers sinking into my sofa to relieve her frustration. She was expecting, and accepting that I would now exorcise her.
I continued after a brief pause, "I think someone else deserves it more."
"H—huh?"
Matthew's words echoed in my head:
"Trial for one Lila Powell."
"A fuckin' nine-year-old, damn it."
"She doesn't even deserve to breathe, let alone roam free."
...
"You did great yesterday," teenage me said, ice cream in hand as we walked the busy city streets.
"Noooo." teenage her waved it off. "I stuttered a lot. I could've done better."
"You stuttered? No way. You were so articulate. Any more and you'd be Eminem."
She chuckled lightly, twisting her hair, her cheeks flushed just a bit redder.
"You looked really cool up there," I complimented again.
She smiled from ear to ear. Seeing that made me happy too.
Suddenly, her phone rang. "Sorry, I have to take this."
"No worries."
"Yeah?" she spoke. I couldn't hear the other side, but from her bitter face, I could guess. "Yes, I'll be right there."
"What was that?"
"I'm so sorry, but I have to rush to the hospital. Can you take this?" She handed me her half-eaten ice cream with urgency.
I held it. "The hospital?"
"Sorry." And she turned to leave.
"Wait! Can I follow?"
She never said I could, but she never said I couldn't. So I followed her to the hospital, where she tended to her sick mother lying weakly in bed.
I only watched from outside the room, unable to hear their conversation. But the tears were clear. The concern was obvious.
After a while, Sophie came out with a faint smile. "You actually followed."
"You didn't say I couldn't. And I felt like I should."
We stood side by side in the corridor, leaning against the wall.
"Thanks for coming."
"No worries."
She was paused by hesitance, but still eventually opened up. "My mother was born like this. A disease so rare the local doctors didn't even know what it was."
Her faint smile vanished quickly. Her black hair curtained her face. "She's weak, really weak. There's no immediate threat to her life, but... she probably couldn't survive a fall. Hit the floor slightly too heavy and that's it..."
I just listened. I was too afraid to say the wrong thing. But after a while, the silence between us became unbearable.
"You're really strong."
"Hm?" She turned to me.
"I can't imagine handling what you're handling now. And yet you still greeted me with a smile." I returned her earlier grin.
She chuckled. "I'm sorry, truly."
"It's alright. We'll grab ice cream some other time."
After a pensive five seconds or more of eye contact, she mumbled, "... Thanks…"
Three years later, two years after my failed confession, I enrolled in the School of Exorcism.
Yuki stood before the class, a class of only seven students.
"Lesson one," she began. "Freethinking, something strictly prohibited in the art of exorcism."
Yuki paced the room as she spoke. Her presence was commanding, even intimidating. "Do not ever act under your own judgment. Do not ever interact with ghosts. Do not ever develop sympathy. Stay loyal to the side of the living, always."
Sorry, Yuki. I forgot to take notes.
...
"I'll save you," I said to Sophie, drawing my dagger. "You do deserve to live more than Lila Powell." I dropped it to the floor.
Streams of tears flowed down Sophie's supple cheeks, tears of joy, accompanied by that angelic smile I missed so much.
"...Thank you…" She stood and approached slowly, her translucent hands trying to grasp my face but phasing right through. She buried her head into mine, literally. "...Thank you so much... Momo…"
Dawn's sunlight poured in from the balcony.
———
Matthew arrived at the shipyard late. The crime scene was already secured, surrounded by his colleagues.
"I'm an officer." He flashed his badge to the one guarding the perimeter and squeezed past, walking into the bloodbath that painted a blue container red.
"Oh, Jesus Christ." He exhaled, staring at the three gory bodies, each with their heads burst open like watermelons. "Janitor again, isn't it?"
A colleague inspecting one of the bodies looked up. "Looks like it." He held up a bloodstained bullet with tongs. A cross was carved into it. "There's another body behind that container." He pointed.
"Motherfucker." Matthew groaned, rubbing his temples. "There won't be any traces here either, will there?"
"Actually, he fucked up this time."
Matthew snapped his head around, shocked and slightly excited. "What do you mean he fucked up?"
"Fucker left someone standing."
"Who?"
The colleague pointed to their sergeant questioning a gloomy, dirty bearded man in the distance.
Matthew rushed over. "Sergeant House."
Jonathan House turned to meet him. Jonathan had sharp eyes, sharp jaw, sharp everything. His gaze was cold and menacing, his posture straight and formal. In the sixteenth division, we nicknamed Jonathan 'Robot' for his cold and calculated demeanor.
"Connors."
"He got anything on the bastard?" Matthew pointed at the witness the Janitor left behind.
"We're looking for six foot three, at least."
"That's it?" Matthew's expression soured again.
Jonathan stayed perfectly calm. "Unfortunately, yes. The Janitor isn't just good at concealing his identity from us."
"Even his victims never saw him, huh?"
"Mm. It was dark." Jonathan turned back to the witness. "Was anyone smoking?"
"Why the fuck does that matter?" the witness hissed.
"Just answer the question."
"Argh... No! I don't know! How the fuck am I supposed to remember that shit?"
"Did you use any of your own weapons before seeing him?" Jonathan pressed.
"I ain't got no weapons, man." The witness lifted his hands defensively.
"Oh, shut up, my guy. Everyone the Janitor targets are shitbags worthy of jail," Matthew joined.
"What were you doing here in the first place?" Jonathan asked again, still calm as a cucumber.
"I… we were just… fuckin'... wasted, man. Came out here just because."
"Not very honest. The three women you kidnapped reported. Arrest him, Officer Connors. Put him in for interrogation first, I'm not done with him."
Jonathan turned to leave. Matthew already had the cuffs out before he finished.
"God fuckin' damn it, man," the witness muttered, wrinkles folding deep.
"Officer Khairul. With me," Jonathan ordered another officer.
They stepped behind another container, away from the others.
"The Ghost Ghost may not exist." Jonathan started, "It could just be an extraordinarily skilled man."
"Shit... It's actually just a guy?" Abdul Khairul frowned, his expression far more animated than Jonathan's stoic face.
"The witness said he saw him. There wasn't any fire nearby."
"How skilled is that?" Abdul crossed his arms. "Every single goddamn crime scene, people around swear no one was ever there. Until now, he fucked up bad."
"We've got a professional. Not a ghost."
"That confirmed?"
"I'll squeeze more out of the witness. But it's extremely likely."
"Ah, shit..." Abdul slapped his thighs, "... we've been chasing a goddamn dead end this whole time."
"Report this to Ms. Kobayashi for me."
"Got it." Abdul nodded.
Matthew shoved the witness, who was already cuffed, into the backseats of his car.
"Come on, man. A couple of bitches said I'm the bad guy and I am? Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?" the man spat.
"My guy, that's the stupidest shit I've heard all week." Matthew laughed and shut the door. Then paused, opening it again. "What did he look like?"
"Fuckin' hell, you cops... I told you. All I saw was his goddamn figure. Tall, jacked, long hair."
"What was he wearing?"
"How the fuck am I supposed to know that?!"
Matthew shut the door again. "Tsk."
Then his phone rang. "Officer Connors."
"Matt, it's me."
"Mo? Why'd you call?"
"You ended coffee early yesterday, so it must continue tonight."
"Heh... Alright, alright. Where?"
"Your place. I'll bring steak and beer."
"Huh. Now that's the shit. See you tonight, my guy."