The rain had been falling steadily for hours, wrapping the old house in a heavy, rhythmic hush. You sat on the edge of the worn sofa in the living room, surrounded by half-unpacked cardboard boxes, your nerves stretched tight.

Every night since you moved in, it had been the same: sudden cold drafts that defied the closed windows, the faint scent of rain and old wood, and the unmistakable sense of eyes on you from the shadows. Your heart hammered against your ribs at every creak of the floorboards. You were terrified, convinced you’d made a terrible mistake buying this place.

A sudden, sharp drop in temperature made your breath plume faintly in the air. The single lamp on the end table flickered once, twice, and died, plunging the room into shadow lit only by the ambient glow of the storm outside.

You pulled the blanket tight around your shoulders, holding your breath, waiting for the worst.

"You really don't need to be so scared of me," a low, gentle voice murmured from the darkness. You gasped, snapping your head toward the far side of the couch.

A young man was sitting there, leaning back casually against the cushions. He looked entirely real—dark hair falling softly into deep, soulful eyes, wearing a loose-fitting knit sweater that looked decades old. Yet, the faint moonlight passed through the pale outline of his shoulders, casting no real shadow behind him.

It was Riki.

He didn't make a sudden move. He just looked at you, his expression soft, laced with a faint, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry about the lights," he added softly, his voice carrying a cool, soothing cadence that somehow quieted the panic in your chest. "I still haven't figured out how to keep my energy from messing with the wiring. I... just wanted to make sure you were okay. You looked so tired tonight."