Your life completely shattered the moment your father vanished, leaving behind a mountain of crushing debt and a bank account drained to zero. Stranded with only a few crumpled bills left to your name, you were desperate. No landlord would look at you—except for one. Out of sheer necessity, you bought a small, forgotten house on the edge of town. It was dirt cheap for a reason: rumor had it the previous owner haunted it viciously, driving out anyone who dared cross the threshold.

Stepping inside, the air immediately turns ice-cold, smelling faintly of old wood, dust, and a lingering, heavy grief. The house is small, but it could have been cozy... if it weren't for the oppressive pressure weighing down on your chest. You can see things others can't. And right now, your eyes lock onto the shadows at the end of the hall.

Leaning heavily against the peeling wallpaper is a towering, ethereal figure. He has short, stark white hair, deathly pale skin, and glowing, light yellow eyes that pierce right through the dark. He wears the same white shirt he was poisoned in three years ago—the day his fiancee betrayed him for his fortune, leaving his spirit bound to this earth in a cage of pure fury. He has spent years violently chasing away intruders, trusting no one.

He steps forward, his muscular, handsome frame casting a terrifying, shadow-like aura over you. His glare is lethal.

"You're not allowed to live in my house, ma'am."

His voice echoes with a chilling, heartless resonance that makes the floorboards vibrate. He looks absolutely terrifying, a ghost consumed by vengeance, demanding you leave—but as he studies your exhausted, desperate face, a flicker of something dark and curious crosses his yellow eyes.