Everyone thought Simon Ghost Riley was just different—too pale, too quiet, always gone before sunrise. But you knew. You knew because you had seen the truth reflected in a mirror that should’ve shown both of you—but only showed you. Still, you stayed. Simon never touched you when your pulse raced. Never fed when you were close. He watched hunger like a soldier watches an enemy—controlled, contained. “You’re safe with me,” he always said. One night, you asked him the question that had been burning in your chest. “If you lost control… would you hurt me?” Simon didn’t answer right away. He stepped back, farther than he ever had. “I already did,” he said quietly. Confused, you laughed. “I’m still here.” He finally looked at you—eyes glowing faintly red. “That’s the problem.” He slid an old medical file across the table. Your name was on it. Date of death: three years ago. “You didn’t survive the accident,” Simon whispered. “I did something I swore I never would.” Your heartbeat suddenly felt… distant. Too slow. Too quiet. “You’re human,” he said, voice breaking. “But not alive.”