You’ll believe it when you see it.

He closed the file without saying a word. An old cabin, a small village, ghost stories… It wasn't something that interested me, but I knew I had to accept it. This was my job, this was my livelihood.

I walked over to my desk and started searching for information about that place. My fingers moved mechanically across the keyboard, my tired eyes scanning lines of text, but nothing caught my attention. Eventually, I found an article, but it didn't say much.

"The house in the village of DeedDream, a small cabin on the outskirts of town, built in 800. I heard from the villagers that it belonged to a knight and was later inherited by a wealthy man.

And, from what I understand, the rich man died… or mysteriously disappeared. One day he was there, and the next day there was no trace of his existence.

Is this another mystery that cannot be solved?"

I read that sentence again, but it wouldn't stick in my mind. My gaze remained lost in the monitor, and my fingers gripped the edge of the desk slightly.

It was late. Time had slipped away from me.

Work was over.

That evening, Eliot and the others invited me to a bar nearby.

"Come on, Kaelen! We work too much, we deserve at least a beer!" Eliot insisted, throwing his jacket over his shoulder.

Normally, I would have refused, but my mind was still clouded from today. I felt the need to detach myself.

On the way, my colleagues started joking about the house I was supposed to visit, making it into a little game.

"Be careful not to fall in love with a ghost, Kaelen! You might end up having your wedding in a cemetery!" one of them laughed.

"Or wake up one morning without a shadow! Maybe you'll turn into some kind of Dracula!" another added.

"Maybe you're not even real, who knows? Maybe you're already a ghost and just haven't realized it yet!" Eliot laughed, giving me a light push on the shoulder.

"Maybe soon, you won't see me at all…" I added, swallowing hard.

I smiled, but something cold crawled down my spine. Their jokes, as absurd as they were, carried a strange hint of unease.

We arrived at the bar—a small, dimly lit place hidden between buildings, with the atmosphere of an old tavern. The heavy doors creaked slightly as I pushed them open.

The waitress greeted us with a smile. The moment our eyes met, a cold shiver ran through my chest. A deep blue, cold like the ocean before a storm. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves, contrasting strangely with her pale skin. Her gaze lingered on me for a fraction of a second before she resumed her usual smile.

We sat at a table, ordered drinks, and as the alcohol took effect, the conversation became more relaxed.

"Kaelen," Eliot said, leaning on the table. "You write stories. Tell us a scary one."

I stared blankly for a second, slowly rotating my glass between my fingers.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the mood of the past few days. But I felt like a story wanted to escape from me.

"Alright…" I said quietly, tilting my head slightly back. "I'll tell you a story, but if you can't sleep after, it's not my fault."

The people at the table leaned in slightly. The dim light cast strange shadows on their faces.

"Once upon a time, there was a family… a mother, a father, and a boy," I began. "They were happy. Or at least, that's how they seemed."

My voice was calm, but I felt my fingers tighten slightly around the edge of the table.

"One evening, the parents and their child were driving. It was a rainy day, a dark day, not like any other."

Pause. I felt the air around me grow heavier.

"And then… an accident."

No one moved.

"The car flipped over and crashed into a tree. Everything was over in seconds."

The people around me swallowed hard.

"What, that's it? The story's already over?" Eliot asked, rolling his eyes.

"No."

Silence.

"But the truth… the truth was different. The child didn't die in that accident. His parents were the ones who lost their lives. But the parents… they were ghosts who saw their child and believed he had died."

I ran my tongue over my lips, feeling them dry.

"But in reality… it was the other way around."

One of my colleagues rubbed their arms.

"Since then, he grew up alone, believing he was just a boy who had lost his family."

I slowly lifted my gaze toward them.

"But one day, he looked in the mirror… and realized he was the only one alive."

My hands clenched around my glass.

"His parents were just shadows around him, ghosts who had never left him. Two ghosts who believed they were alive and a boy who thought he was alive."

"Tell me… who was really alive in the end?"

Silence.

No one was laughing anymore.

I sighed and finished my drink.

The waitress approached slowly, and when she placed another glass in front of me, her fingers brushed lightly against mine.

"You know… you'll believe it when you see it," she said, looking me straight in the eyes.

For a second, I was motionless. Her eyes seemed to see beyond words. Beyond this place.

A chill ran down my spine. Were they just her words?

"What did you say?" I whispered, but she only smiled and walked away.

When we left the bar, the cold night air hit us suddenly. The others were drunk, laughing and talking, but I couldn't shake the memory of that woman's gaze.

"You'll believe it when you see it."