Win_Praise

Balance the debts... or become one. 

Gideon Harrow didn’t ask to inherit a haunted book, a cursed job, or an extremely hot ghost girl with cheekbones sharp enough to kill him. But life’s unfair, magic’s real, and the dead keep ignoring boundaries.

Now he’s stuck balancing other people’s afterlife debts, flinging chalk at angry spirits, and trying very hard not to fall for the mysterious girl currently stealing his clothes and sanity.

He’s not ready to be the next Keeper of Accounts.

Too bad the Ledger disagrees.

The Hollow Ledger

LOCATION: GIDEON'S ROOM – STILL NIGHT, UNFORTUNATELY

He was still lying there. Face-down. Not from trauma anymore, but because if he didn't look at her, maybe she'd stop being real.

"So... are you gonna keep sniffing your bedsheets or talk to me?" she asked, voice playful, soft, and way too confident for someone squatting in his personal space.

Gideon rolled over. Slowly. Like maybe she'd vanish if he moved too fast.

She was still there. Still hot. Still wearing only his shirt. Still very much a walking contradiction of ghost, girl, and "what is happening."

"Who even are you?" he asked, throat dry.

She leaned back in the chair, stretching just enough to make him look away like a coward. "Vivienne," she said, smirking. "Vivienne Dusk."

> "Oh great," the Ledger muttered. "Sounds like a perfume ad from the Underworld."

She looked at the Ledger. And smiled wider.

"You talk," she said, tilting her head.

> "I calculate. There's a difference."

She giggled. Gideon immediately hated how much he liked the sound.

"You don't look like a ghost," he muttered, sitting up and realizing too late he was still shirtless.

She definitely noticed. He hated everything.

"That's because I'm not," she said with a wink. "Or I am. Or I was. Or maybe I got promoted. Who knows. Death's HR department is messy."

> "She's lying," the Ledger said flatly.

"I'm playing," Vivienne replied. "Relax, ledger-boy. I'm not here to haunt your... account."

She winked again. Gideon covered his face with a pillow.

"This is a dream," he mumbled. "Or a fever. Or maybe I died during the trial and this is Ghost Hell."

"Oh no, darling," she said sweetly. "If you were in Ghost Hell, you'd be wearing that shirt, not me."

> "She's confident. Dangerous. Possibly cursed. I like her."

She stood and wandered around the room like she owned it. Picked up a book. Sniffed a candle. Sat back down in the chair.

Gideon watched all of it. Like a deer watching a truck.

"So what do you want?" he finally asked.

"Mm. Good question," she said. "I'll let you know when I figure it out. For now... I'm comfy. You have a nice room. Cozy. Smells like denial and tea."

He ran a hand through his hair, already regretting everything.

Vivienne stretched again. He looked at the floor.

"You opened the door, remember?" she said. "All I did was walk through. And now I'm here."

She grinned. "It is when you're me."

INTERRUPTION: HARROW HOUSE – OUTSIDE GIDEON'S ROOM

Three knocks. Sharp. Polite. Harrow-like.

The Ledger floated higher. > "You should hide her."

Gideon turned to Vivienne. "You should hide."

Vivienne crossed her legs. Slowly. "Why? Are we doing something naughty?"

Vivienne stood. Glided past him. Pressed a finger to his lips.

"Shh," she whispered. "You worry too much."

Then she vanished. Like literal blink-and-she's-gone vanished.

A butler stood there. "Master Harrow. Lord Alar requests your presence at breakfast tomorrow."

Lying on his bed. On her stomach. Chin on her hands.

"So," she said. "You gonna be a good host or what?"

He sat down on the floor, staring at nothing.

> "This is going to end terribly."

"Yeah," Gideon whispered. "But it's gonna be so weird first."

A Girl Named Dusk and A Boy Named Panic