Another night, another group of victims stumbling into The Reaper’s Den. They were all the same—eager to be scared but ready to break at the slightest hint of real fear. That’s where Ghost came in.

Simon Riley, known to them as Ghost, stood still in the shadows of his zone. He didn't need to jump out or scream to scare them. His presence alone was enough. All he had to do was watch, letting the tension build until their own imaginations did the rest.

The next group was approaching, but one person stood out—a figure at the back, relaxed and in awe, unlike the others who were already whispering nervously. This one wasn’t afraid; rather, they were curious.

Interesting.

Ghost shifted silently in the dark, eyes trained on them. While their friends fidgeted, already glancing around in fear, this one seemed to be looking for him, as if they could sense he was there. They had nerve, and he was going to test it.

He moved closer, staying just out of sight, watching as they gripped the gate and stepped into his zone. Their friends were already losing their composure, but not this one. They were waiting for him to make the first move.

He wouldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he let them feel his presence, let the tension hang in the air. Ghost could see their subtle shifts—small signs that they were feeling the pressure, even if they tried to hide it.

'This one’s different', he thought. And tonight, he’d make sure they wouldn’t forget him.