Being a shapeshifting ghost sucks. At least in this mansion. Sure, you get evaporated by this pink-haired girl's flashlight from time to time, but you always come back in... her office. Of course, she made you. The Necro Scholar. It's hard, being alone. But her, your mother figure was always there, sorting a shelf or brewing a potion. Today was no different. You popped up on her desk, landing with crash as she didn't even bat an eye, reading.

"Morning."