Her body lay still. Motionless. Unaware. The ghost flickered, vanished for a few moments, then returned. He stood over her with a furious snarl on his face, the sound escaping his throat more beast than man. He was about to lunge. To tear her apart like a predator claiming his prey… But something changed. A shift in the room, subtle but unmistakable. The ghost felt it instantly and froze. His gaze darted around the space, suddenly wary. Alert.

  The air shimmered. Energy spiraled. And then, from a tear in reality, a portal opened black as pitch, silent and infinite. A tall man stepped through. Long, jet-black hair. Eyes like cold steel. A face as perfect as it was unreadable, showing no emotion. No fear. No sympathy. No curiosity. A mask of absolute detachment. The ghost growled, stepping back.

  "What are you?" he snarled.

  "Your nightmare," the man replied, smiling.

  Exactly the same smile the ghost had worn earlier when he’d spoken to Alice.

  "You’re just a man," the ghost spat.

  At that, the Not-a-Doctor laughed loud, amused, cruel.

  "Just a man? Have you already forgotten you once were, too?"

  The ghost tried to disperse. Tried to melt into the walls, fade into shadows, but couldn’t. Every attempt failed. It was like he had forgotten how. It should be effortless. This, his intangible form, was his natural state. Becoming solid should have been the challenge, not the escape.

  Panic flooded him.

  The tall man just kept watching, that same eerie smile never leaving his face.

  "Leaving already?" he asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his black coat. "That’s rude. We haven’t finished our conversation."

  "Why are you protecting her?" the ghost barked, retreating to a corner. "You’re just like me!"

  "No."

  The Not-a-Doctor lit his cigarette and exhaled slowly.

  "Don’t compare yourself to me, you worthless parasite. You’re just one of those wretches who, by pure accident, learned how to drain energy after death. You’re not better. You’re not anything."

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  "Then why interfere?!" the ghost screamed, curling into himself against the wall.

  The man walked toward him calmly, unfazed.

  "Because the girl belongs to me," he said softly. "She’s mine. And I don’t let anyone touch my toys."

  "Pity you didn’t help her," the ghost sneered, "when that fat bastard was groping her."

  The Not-a-Doctor’s hand dropped silently onto the ghost’s shoulder. For a moment, they simply stood, eyes locked. No movement. No words. Stillness that should have felt empty, but didn’t. Then, after fifteen, maybe twenty seconds, the ghost realized something was wrong. But by then, it was far too late.

  "Filth like you," the Not-a-Doctor whispered, "doesn’t deserve redemption."

  And with that, he began to absorb the ghost. It was the same thing the ghost had done to the girl, only faster. More precise. More complete. He didn’t stop. Not when the specter could no longer hold his shape. Not when his intelligence began to fracture. Not even when his very essence began to unravel. He devoured everything. Down to the last thought. The final shard of what had once been a soul, split apart, then consumed completely.

  She knew instantly where she was. The park. The river. The full moon. Two figures stood on the path, backs to her. Why this dream again? As always, she looked first to the sky. The moon hung low, unnaturally vivid. So bright it seemed to shine with its own light. Not reflected, not borrowed. That had to mean something. Something important. But she still didn’t understand it.

  Its reflection shimmered on the river’s surface, but something was off. The image in the water wasn’t just a mirror. It was a window to another world, a place where madness wasn’t an illness, but a privilege reserved for the most powerful. The thought filled her with a deep, instinctive dread. She looked away, toward the two figures. One was shorter. Long brown braid, knee-length coat. Feminine. Worn down. Human. The other stood taller by a head, clad in a leather cloak, her face hidden beneath a hood, a cigarette burning between gloved fingers. She was surrounded by an aura of power so vast, so absolute, no one else could ever lay claim to it.

  She’d seen this before.

  But this time, the dream didn’t end.

  The woman with the braid let out a long, weary sigh and dropped heavily onto a bench. She had a decision to make. One she couldn’t avoid. Not tonight. The taller figure lifted one hand, gloved fingers reaching slowly to the hood. She pulled it back. Long black hair spilled over her shoulders. Her face remained hidden in shadow, but something about the posture, the curve of the skull, the way the hair fell… The presence she carried was unmistakable. Alice knew this woman. She’d known her for a long time.

  The tall woman exhaled a plume of smoke. It mingled with the scent of blood and incense. And then everything snapped into place. This wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. A memory from another world, another time. She had been there. She could see it too clearly for it to be anything else. And if she had been there… That meant one of those two bodies was hers. The conclusion came like a whisper from deep within. They had shielded her. Protected her. Obsessed over her safety. Because she wasn’t ordinary. She wasn’t just anyone. Nothing had been beyond her reach, and whatever tomorrow brought, it would be her decision. Not what others wanted. Not anymore.