"Are there ghosts in the house?" Caspian asked.
When he had this conversation with Palm before, he hadn't taken it very seriously—though he had admitted that ghosts could exist. Now, the little boy standing in front of him was claiming there was a ghost in this very house where he was going to stay tonight.
"Yes, Mr. Mortis. I saw it with my own eyes," Little Max said with grave sincerity.
"The other night, I climbed the tree and was watching the hallway through the window. Suddenly, something just... came out from the wall."
"Look, Little Max. You're still young. It's natural for you to believe in such things. But there's no such thing as ghosts," Caspian said. He didn't want the boy to be scared by things like that.
Little Max stared at Caspian as if he were an alien from outer space.
"Mr. Mortis... The news has been flooded with talks of evil spirits and hauntings lately in the slums. You've even solved cases like this before," Little Max said. He didn't look scared at all.
Caspian paused, his mind racing. He wondered if the old detective had also dealt with mysticism cases.
"Did I?" he muttered to himself.
"Of course you did! Mr. Mortis, are you okay? Are you sick or something? People usually start talking nonsense like that when they're close to death. Please, if you're dying, pay me first," the boy said, extending his hand.
"Hey, don't jinx it, kid," Palm interjected. "A person should always be careful about the words that leave their mouth."
"How much did I say I'd pay you?" Caspian asked.
"Ten Juvels," the boy replied. Caspian pulled ten Juvels from his wallet and handed them to him.
"Do you want me to continue tonight?"
"No, that won't be necessary... but if I need to find you, where can I?"
"...Mr. Mortis, are you truly alright? You can find me in the usual spot, by the old bridge behind the cathedral," the boy said.
"Ah... yes. Don't mind me, I'm just a bit overwhelmed with work lately," Caspian told the little boy.
After they went their separate ways, Caspian and Palm arrived at the house. Mr. Gerald showed them a room near his room. The room didn't have anything except a bed and a carpet on the floor, and it was bitingly cold. Mr. Gerald had told them to light the fireplace, since no one ever used this part of the hallway, it wouldn't draw any attention.
While Caspian flipped through the books Mr. Gerald had brought to keep them from getting bored, Palm had already drifted off to sleep. Caspian noticed that Palm seemed to snatch a nap whenever he found the slightest opportunity.
The hours dragged on, long and dull, until night fully settled in and it was finally time for Mr. Gerald to retire for the evening. Caspian heard the voices of Butler Olly and Mr. Gerald. He listened at the door as the voices came closer. Once he heard the butler leave, he went over and woke Palm. It didn't matter if the thing in the house was a ghost, a maniac, an intruder, or a stalker—he had no intention of facing it alone.
Palm looked around for a moment, trying to figure out where he was, before getting up.
Together, they began to wait. This time, Palm flipped through the books, while Caspian paced the room nervously. After a while, they began to hear strange voices. The sound resembled the howling of the wind. When Caspian approached the window and looked outside, he saw that not a single leaf on the trees was moving. The sound was coming from the hallway.
Soon, they started to hear other noises like tapping sounds, faint giggles, footsteps... As the sounds came nearer to their room, Caspian tried to see into the hallway through the keyhole, but the angle was too narrow and the hallway too dark.
Suddenly, Palm stood up from the bed. He shoved past Caspian—who was still crouched by the door—and threw it open, lunging into the hallway. Caspian didn't even have a chance to stop him, so he dashed out after him.
There, standing before them, was a silhouette just as Mr. Gerald had described. However, the ghost froze for a few seconds upon seeing them before escaped. She was shrouded in shadow, but she was unmistakably a woman. After a split-second of frozen silence, the ghost let out a small shriek and began to glide through the air.
Palm and Caspian ran after the ghost, but it went through the wall and vanished. The sudden rush of adrenaline faded, and Caspian sank onto the cold stone floor. Palm, gasping for breath, leaned against the wall. Even a ten-second sprint was enough to exhaust a man who had only been doing office work for three hundred years.
"Ghosts... they really do exist," Caspian's voice trembled.
"Don't be like that, Mr. Mortis. What are you so afraid of?" Palm panted, a mocking glint in his eye.
"You've forgotten who you are and how you got here pretty quickly. You're also a ghost. You're just protecting your sanity unlike other ghosts. But what makes you scarier than them is that you've possessed a body."
He was right. Caspian questioned why he hadn't thought about that. Technically, he could also be considered a ghost. He had no reason to fear his own kind. With this thought in mind, he tried to bolster his courage.
He mustered his courage and stood up—only to let out a small cry to escape from his lips as a black silhouette suddenly appeared right in front of him.