You’ll believe it when you see it.

This chapter is already strong, but let's refine it for absolute peak quality—enhancing the atmosphere, tightening the tension, and making the prose more immersive.

Chapter — The Weight of Shadows

Kaelen closed the file without a word. An old cabin, a remote village, ghost stories—none of it interested him, but he had no choice. This was his job. His livelihood.

Returning to his desk, he pulled up everything he could find on the place. The information was sparse, mostly rumors, until he stumbled upon an old article:

*"The house in DeedDream Village—a small cabin on the town's outskirts, built in the 800s. Some say it belonged to a knight before passing into the hands of a wealthy man.

But that man either died or vanished. One day he was there, and the next, there wasn't a single trace of him.

Another mystery, never to be solved."*

Kaelen reread the passage, his fingers lingering over the screen.

He had seen these kinds of stories before—ghost stories were nothing new. But something about this one unsettled him, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

By the time he glanced at the clock, the workday had ended.

That evening, Eliot and the others dragged him to a nearby bar.

— "Come on, Kaelen! We work too much; we deserve at least a beer!" Eliot urged, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

Normally, he would have refused. But today, his mind felt heavy, tangled in the remnants of his research. Maybe a drink would clear his head.

The group joked along the way, turning his upcoming trip into a game.

— "Watch out, Kaelen! Fall in love with a ghost, and you might end up married in a cemetery!" one of them laughed.

— "Or worse, wake up without a shadow! You might be the next Dracula!"

— "Or maybe…" Eliot grinned, nudging him. "You're already a ghost, and you just haven't realized it yet."

Kaelen smirked, playing along.

— "Who knows? Maybe soon you won't see me at all."

But the jokes left a strange feeling in his gut.

The bar was dimly lit, tucked between old buildings, its wooden interior resembling an ancient tavern. The scent of aged whiskey and smoke clung to the air.

And then, he saw her.

The waitress.

Her eyes—deep, stormy blue—caught him off guard. They were cold yet piercing, like they could see past the skin, past the flesh. Black waves of hair cascaded over her pale shoulders, a striking contrast against her ghostly complexion.

Something about her was… off.

The others ordered drinks, the alcohol easing their laughter, unraveling the stress of the day.

Then Eliot turned to him.

— "Kaelen. You write stories. Tell us a horror one."

Kaelen's fingers traced the rim of his glass.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the weight in his mind. But he felt a story clawing its way out of him.

He leaned forward.

— "Alright." His voice dropped to a low murmur. "But if you can't sleep tonight, that's not my problem."

The table fell silent, their attention locked on him.

— *"Once, there was a family—a mother, a father, and a child. They were happy. Or at least, they seemed to be.

One evening, they were driving home. It was raining. The sky was black, endless. And then… an accident. The car veered off the road, crashed into a tree. Everything ended in seconds."*

A breathless pause.

— *"But that wasn't the truth.

The boy survived. It was his parents who died that night.

Except… they didn't know they were dead. They could still see him. They still spoke to him, held his hand, tucked him in at night—believing he was the one who had died.

And the boy? He grew up alone, thinking he was just another orphan. Until one day… he looked in the mirror.

And realized he was the only one alive.

His parents were just shadows.

Two ghosts who thought they were living.

And a child who believed he was, too.

So tell me—"* Kaelen's voice dropped to a whisper. "Who was truly alive?"

Silence.

The laughter had drained from their faces.

Eliot swallowed hard, forcing a smirk.

— "Damn. That's…" He trailed off.

Kaelen sighed, downing the rest of his drink.

The waitress approached, setting another glass in front of him without a word.

When he looked up, she was watching him again.

And then, she spoke—softly, deliberately.

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

Kaelen stiffened.

Something in her voice, something in her eyes made his skin prickle.

A strange, suffocating connection formed between them, as if she had just pulled a thread in reality, revealing a glimpse of something underneath.

— "What did you say?" he murmured.

But she only smiled.

And walked away.

The night air hit like ice when they stepped outside. His coworkers were still laughing, their voices weaving through the city's haze.

But Kaelen barely heard them.

Her words echoed in his head.

You'll believe it when you see it.

And for the first time in years, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.