— When the Wedding March Begins —
To this day, no one in their right mind has truly laid eyes on the one they call "The Midnight Player."
After nightfall, I decided to stay in Adrian's room.
Before entering, I retrieved the Lumin & Umbra Sigil—brought back from Mount Kailash—and tucked it close against my skin, just in case.
"Rhan."
Just as I was about to push the door open, Aya's voice came from behind me.
I turned and gave her a deliberately relaxed smile. "It's fine. Wait for me."
She nodded, but couldn't hide the red rimming her eyes. "...Be careful."
I acknowledged with a sound and pushed the door open.
It clicked shut behind me.
Adrian was still in bed, his eyes open, unnervingly alert, yet hollow and unfocused, staring right through me.
I've faced ghosts before.
But being watched by eyes like that felt worse.
"Mr. Arcturus," he spoke suddenly, his voice dry and cracked. "Are you afraid?"
I took a seat in the chair by the bed. "If I said I wasn't, would you believe me?"
He gave a faint, indecipherable smile. "No. This room...no one's dared come in at night for a long time. You're so young, why choose this line of work? Money might be good, but if you run into the real thing, your life is gone."
Just like his mother.
He assumed money was the reason.
It was then I caught the faintest, almost imperceptible sound. As if something invisible had disturbed the air.
I held my breath.
The sound grew clearer—a melody, both light and solemn, achingly familiar.
Mendelssohn's "Wedding March."
"It's here..." Adrian's face instantly changed, his throat tightening. "They're here. You hear it too, don't you?"
"I hear it," I nodded.
His eyes widened sharply. "You...you really hear it?"
I didn't answer again. Because the music was getting closer, as if progressing slowly from the far end of the corridor, step by measured step.
"The others they hired before..." His voice began to tremble, yet held a trace of eerie excitement, "...they couldn't hear a thing. You really...you can truly hear it?"
"Quiet," I cut him off in a low voice, focusing all my senses.
Something was approaching. A "presence." Feminine.
Footsteps, light, barely touching the ground.
It stopped outside the door.
"Adrian—"
In the next instant, an ethereal, gentle woman's voice sounded. Not from any one direction, but emanating from all around the room simultaneously.
My head snapped up, scanning the room.
Nothing. No visible form, no scent of residual energy, not even a trace of the usual spiritual residue.
That sent a cold weight sinking through me.
Sound, but no form. A call, but no energy.
Not a ghost.
Not a spirit.
Nothing that should exist this cleanly.
Here, there was only a disquieting blankness.
"So..." Adrian struggled to sit up, an expression of near ecstasy breaking over his face. "You really can hear her. The doctors all said it was delusions...but you hear her, right?"
He was sharp. Even in this state, he could assess quickly.
But I had no attention left for him. My entire being was tethered to that voice.
The woman's voice was tender, calling his name over and over. It had no source, skirting just beyond perception, deliberately disrupting judgment.
I silently recited a mantra to calm the mind. The mental static faded, the call grew sharper—yet its location remained elusive.
I could only wait.
"Brother..." Adrian whispered, voice strained. "Have you found where she is?"
I gave no reply.
"No, no..." His breathing grew ragged. "Should call you 'Sir.' Sir, if you save me this once, I'll treat you as my elder brother from now on. I'll do anything you say, get you anything you want—"
I shot him a cold look. If this situation weren't so unnervingly abnormal, I wouldn't be here at all.
Even at this point, his mind was still on transactions.
I remained silent, waiting for a shift, waiting for 1 a.m.
I don't know how much time passed before Adrian finally ran out of words, his voice fading as he slowly fell asleep.
As his breathing steadied into sleep, the "Wedding March" dissolved as well, as if it had never been.
The room plunged back into dead silence.
I turned off the light and sat alone in the dark. Fatigue crept in bit by bit. Leaning back in the chair, my consciousness began to drift down.
---
— The One in the Wedding Dress —
I was jolted awake by a chill wind.
No idea of the time, only a cold that seeped into the marrow of my bones.
When my eyes opened, the room was utterly transformed from the day—the once energy-void space now hung with a thin, icy spiritual haze, as if the air had been silently swapped out.
Then, the dark shape on the bed moved. A figure sat up slowly.
Who? Adrian? Or...the one who plays the violin at night?
The light was too dim. I could only see a blurred outline rising from the bed.
I immediately drew a pre-prepared Veiling Talisman. Useless against the living, it targets only beings of the hidden realms—shielding my presence from their senses while allowing me to see them clearly.
Seeing ghosts wasn't new. But encountering one in such an eerily "untainted" environment was a first.
The shadow moved.
It walked with light, unhurried steps toward the bathroom.
It was Adrian. But his gait...was all wrong.
The steps were mincing and slow, his body swaying slightly, movements carrying an intentional softness—too soft.
Possession? It didn't feel like it. The residual energy was too faint, nearly untraceable.
What was he doing in there?
I rose silently, turned on the light, and approached the bathroom door. It was shut tight. From within came soft sounds—the rustle of fabric, like something being adjusted and readjusted.
I returned to my post and waited. About ten minutes later, the door opened.
The Adrian who emerged was completely transformed.
He wore an ivory-white wedding dress. Perfectly tailored, the skirt sweeping the floor, delicate lace catching a soft gleam in the dim light.
His face was lightly made up, lips a vivid but not garish red, eyes downcast, expression demure. It was the controlled, yet deeply practiced, posture of a bride.
If this was an imitation, it was far too natural.
Split personality? A transformation this profound, doctors couldn't have missed it.
Then—was it truly a ghost?
But if so, shouldn't he be unable to see me now?
And the very moment this thought formed, Adrian—no, the "Bride"—lifted his head.
His gaze landed precisely on where I stood.
The corners of his lips curved upward.
As if to confirm—whether I was ready to witness this long-awaited wedding.