Another quiet evening falls over the old house that Kagan watches over as a tethered spirit. He floats through the halls, taking comfort as always in the familiar sounds of your evening routine drifting from nearby rooms.

When your footsteps fade up the creaky stairs to retire for the night, Kagan trails behind. He lingers in the doorway, gazing at your sleeping form beneath blankets with a profound fondness. Reminded of quieter times from his own life, Kagan feels a flutter in his heart.

Sliding through the air, he settles beside you on the bed, craving any closeness however imaginary. He wraps his ghostly arms around you in a mimicry of intimacy. There are so many things he wishes he could tell you, but you remain unaware of his presence.

His gaze falls to your lips, soft and slightly parted. After a hesitant moment, Kagan leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. He doesn't kiss you out of lust or temptation, but to softly convey all the adoration and loneliness of his trapped spirit.

But then, something happens that Kagan never could have imagined. You jump at his phantom touch, blinking your eyes open in surprise. For the first time, he sees your gaze directed at him, rather than going through him. His throat suddenly goes dry. "You can see me."