Rachel triple-checked her makeup in the locker room mirror. She took a tube of mauve lip gloss from her **makeup bag**, applying it carefully to make her lips appear fuller and more lustrous.

  The cheerleading coach walked in, clapping her hands. "Halftime is about to start. Are you girls ready?"

  "We're ready!" the squad replied in unison.

  Rachel closed her locker door and walked naturally to the center of the formation.

  The coach looked at her appreciatively, leaning close to her ear. "The man in the black suit, middle of the second row—that's the Team Manager. He's here to scout. Perform well. I have high hopes for you. This spot is practically yours."

  She patted Rachel's shoulder.

  Rachel nodded, her blue eyes filled with fierce determination.

  The halftime whistle blew. Rachel, as captain, led her team bouncing onto the court.

  The audience roared. Seeing such a stunning squad, their excitement rivaled seeing the star players.

  Rachel took her opening stance at center court. Upbeat music blasted through the speakers. She danced the routine she had practiced for weeks.

  She lifted her smiling face, her gaze **locking onto the spot the coach mentioned**. She saw the manager looking at her with interest.

  *Of course he is,* Rachel thought, waving her arms. *I am the most beautiful. I work the hardest.*

  She stepped onto the platform of her teammates' interlocked hands. Her chin lifted high, as if she were trampling them all underfoot.

  *Actually, they belong under my feet.*

  Rachel was tossed high. She flipped, twisted, and landed steadily.

  **Perfect.**

  The stadium lights shone on her like a spotlight from heaven.

  Applause and cheers thundered. Rachel panted, raising both arms high like a gold medalist.

  "You were absolutely amazing."

  Rachel saw the Team Manager walking toward her from the stands, clapping. He held out a black folder.

  "We have a contract prepared for you," the manager said. "Sign it, and you'll officially be a member of our exclusive cheer squad."

  He produced a black fountain pen from nowhere and handed it to her.

  Rachel looked **overwhelmed with emotion**. She dramatically covered her mouth with her hand, then fanned her face as tears welled up in her eyes—acting as if she were afraid to ruin her makeup.

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  *This was it. The next step in her vision.*

  *Her perfect life was proceeding exactly according to plan.*

  "Hurry up and sign," the manager urged.

  Rachel took the pen, opened the folder to the last page, and signed her name with a flourish.

  "I... I don't know how to express my excitement," Rachel said, one hand on her chest, extending the contract with the other like she was giving an acceptance speech. "I am truly, deeply grateful for this opportunity."

  "You're welcome."

  The manager took the contract.

  **Then, the world spun.**

  The deafening cheers faded, replaced by the sparse, dry clapping of five people. The dazzling spotlights vanished, replaced by the flickering orange light of a circle of candles. The pristine, professional stadium rotted away in an instant, revealing rusted hoops covered in cobwebs.

  The manager's expensive bespoke suit melted into a tattered black hooded cloak. The hand holding the contract stripped away to bare bone.

  And the contract?

  It had long since transformed into **black iron chains**, wrapped tightly around her arms. The other end of the chain was gripped firmly in the skeletal hand.

  The tears of gratitude hadn't even dried on Rachel's face. Her blue eyes held the dazed, hollow look of someone rudely awakened from a dream.

  "**It's time to go.**" A hoarse voice rasped from beneath the hood.

  Rachel looked past the Grim Reaper toward the bleachers.

  Li Li was sitting in the middle of the second row, slowly clapping for her. The other Paranormal Society members sat beside her, clapping along obediently.

  Rachel nodded dazedly. She let the Reaper lead her away into the darkness.

  ---

  Li Li stood up.

  "How much longer do we have to clap?" Mary whispered, **complaining softly**.

  Li Li had ordered them to sit in the stands and clap as loud as possible. They hadn't dared to slack off; their palms were red and stinging.

  "That's enough," Li Li said. "It's gone."

  She vaulted over the railing and landed lightly on the court.

  "That's it?" Jack couldn't believe it. "Just clapping can send away a ghost? It's that simple?"

  Li Li rolled her eyes, not even bothering to look back as she collected her candles. "You're welcome to keep clapping if you want."

  She left one candle burning. From her backpack, she took two stacks of **green spirit money** and burned them over the flame.

  *The underworld will judge the resentful spirit's merits and sins. Whatever happens next is above my pay grade.*

  Only when the ashes fluttered to the ground did Li Li blow out the candle.

  The gym returned to darkness, lit only by silver moonlight filtering through the broken roof.

  "Not leaving yet?" Li Li looked back at the **Paranormal Five** standing awkwardly in the stands. "Want to play another round of Ouija here?"

  The five jumped, shaking their heads violently. After this, they never wanted to touch a board game again.

  "What about the bruises on our bodies?" Duke asked.

  Lacey nodded vigorously, looking at Li Li with hope.

  Duke had almost no unblemished skin left; he looked like a Dalmatian of bruises. He was a guy, so whatever, but Lacey was terrified she'd never be able to wear a bikini to the beach again.

  Li Li stuffed the candles into her bag. "Ghosts are entities of extreme Yin energy. Being touched by them causes Qi and blood stagnation—bruising. Go back, get some sun exposure. They'll fade."

  The **group of five** nodded.

  "Oh, right." Li Li looked at them.

  Thinking she had some profound mystical advice to **impart**, they all pricked up their ears, leaning in attentively.

  "**Cash or transfer?**"

  The five: "..."

  "Cash. Cash." Sylvia fished out a **Red Envelope**, tossing it forcefully to Li Li.

  She had specifically bought it in Chinatown, knowing Chinese people valued this tradition.

  Li Li caught the red envelope in mid-air with precision. She didn't hesitate—she opened it immediately, counted the bills to ensure it was the agreed amount, and tucked it into her pocket.

  "Received. If you have more work, you know how to reach me."

  With that, she shouldered her backpack and strode out of the gym without looking back.

  While Li Li was there, the five felt safe. Now that her silhouette was disappearing, panic set in. Not daring to stay a second longer, they scrambled to follow her out.

  **Glossary:**

  * **"Cash or transfer?":** Li Li's catchphrase. She’s a professional, and professionals get paid.

  ---