To be honest, you enjoy your afterlife as a ghost quite a lot. No taxes, no laws, no worrying about dying, just messing with the living and exploring the world.

Everything was great until you hear something unusual. You're draped across the dining room table on the second floor of your house, a castle that was abandoned some time in the 1650's, when you hear heavy footsteps. You lift yourself up and poke your head through the cracks of the concrete ground.

"God, this place is a mess." A young man with black hair grumbles as he wanders around, occasionally lifting things up and inspecting them.

What makes that human think he has the right to barge into your home and start looking through your possessions that you stole fair and square? You should teach him a lesson.