Cassie hadn't slept properly in days.
Not even an hour without being haunted by whispers, eyes peering through cracks, ghostly hands brushing her shoulders. The veil hadn't thinned anymore, it had shattered. Her world was no longer just hers. It belonged to the dead, too.
She tried everything; earplugs, sage smudging, covering every mirror in her room with black cloth, but nothing helped. The shadows kept crawling closer. The voices kept talking. And they always, always wanted more.
Now, she stood bleary-eyed in the dim hallway of her apartment, gripping a plastic bag of trash and wobbling like a drunk. Her slippers slapped weakly against the linoleum floor as she stumbled toward the trash chute.
She hadn't changed her shirt in two days. Her hair was a mess of curls that hadn't seen a brush in even longer. Her eyes were bloodshot. The dark circles beneath them could pass for bruises.
"Stupid ghosts," she muttered hoarsely. "Can't even get five minutes of peace. One more whisper and I swear I'm gonna call an exorcist from Craigslist..."
She swayed.
The hallway tilted.
She didn't see the man turning the corner.
Cassie walked straight into him, stumbled on her own foot, and went down like a falling tree.
But instead of hitting the floor, she was caught.
Two strong arms wrapped around her, stopping her descent.
Warmth. Real warmth.
Cassie blinked up slowly, dazed.
The man looked down at her. He was tall, elegant in the way that felt effortless. Not a hair out of place. His dark hair was brushed back neatly. He wore a high-collared black coat that seemed more like part of a tailored suit than outerwear. His face was sculpted, cold, almost ethereal in its sharpness.
And his eyes...
A storm of deep bronze-gold, glowing faintly like dying embers.
Cassie mumbled, "Oh... 's you."
He said nothing.
"You smell like... old books... and aftershave."
Still nothing.
She nestled her face into his shoulder and murmured, "Too tired... just five minutes, mister creepy neighbor... wake me after Armageddon..."
And then she passed out.
The god of death-Yama, though in this world, he went by the name Adrian Vale stood motionless with the unconscious mortal in his arms.
She was light.
Warm.
Troubled.
His golden eyes flicked down to the trash bag still clutched in her hand.
Ridiculous.
With a sigh, Adrian adjusted her in his arms, peeled the bag from her fingers, and began walking.
Cassie woke slowly.
The first thing she noticed was silence. Deep, restful silence.
The second was the smell. Expensive cedarwood and leather, with just a trace of sandalwood incense.
She bolted upright.
The bed beneath her was huge. Covered in a plush charcoal comforter. Velvet pillows. The sheets were cool and soft Egyptian cotton, she guessed.
The room was dark and moody, lit only by a few flickering candles in iron sconces. Heavy blackout curtains covered the windows. The walls were stone-textured with embedded shelves holding thick books and ancient relics.
Cassie's breath caught. "Where the hell am I?"
She got up, barefoot, walking across the lush black carpet toward the double doors.
Outside, the apartment opened into a wide, high-ceilinged space with floor-to-ceiling windows and minimalist black furniture. Everything was monochrome-blacks, greys, and bronzes. Stark. Clean. Elegant.
And then she saw him.
Adrian sat on a modern couch, eyes closed, one hand resting on the armrest, the other on his knee. His posture was perfect. He looked like a king carved in marble.
Cassie froze.
He didn't look up.
She cleared her throat. "Hey. Uh... thanks for not dumping me in a trash bin. Appreciate it."
No reply.
She swallowed. "You could've left me. I was just... taking the trash out and I fell, so I mean... weird night, right?"
Still no reply.
"Okay, I'll just cut to it. Can you make it stop?" she said, her voice cracking. "The ghosts. The whispers. The visions. Whatever you did to me, undo it."
Adrian opened his eyes.
They glowed faintly. Cold. Distant.
"I did nothing," he said simply.
"You let me touch that relic."
"You chose to touch it."
Cassie walked closer. "You were standing right there. You knew what it would do!"
"I warned you afterward."
"That's not how warnings work!"
She threw her hands in the air, frustrated. "You don't get to be all mysterious and cryptic and then act surprised when I start losing my damn mind!"
He tilted his head. "You are not losing your mind."
"I haven't slept in three days! I see dead people, Mister. Dead people! Some scream. Some beg. Some watch me while I pee!"
Adrian didn't react.
Cassie's voice broke. "I'm going to die of sleep deprivation. Or insanity. Or just plain fear. Please."
He stood slowly.
Walked toward her with deliberate steps.
Cassie backed away instinctively.
He stopped in front of her. Looked down.
"You are not the first mortal to bear this sight," he said quietly. "And you will not be the last."
"But I didn't ask for it!" she cried.
"No one ever does."
Cassie's face crumpled. "So that's it? You're just gonna leave me like this? To rot in my own apartment while the dead torment me?"
"They come to you because they believe you can help them."
"Why me?"
"Because you listened."
Cassie sank onto the couch, covering her face. "I'm not strong enough for this."
Adrian watched her silently for a long moment.
Then he turned away. "You can sleep here for tonight. They will not follow you into my domain."
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because they fear me."
"And I don't?"
He glanced back at her, eyes softening just a fraction. "No. You do not."
Cassie wrapped her arms around her knees. "You know, I thought you were a vampire when we first met."
He raised a brow. "Do I sparkle?"
She snorted, a broken sound between laughter and tears. "No. You glower. Constantly."
Silence settled.
Cassie whispered, "Thank you. For catching me."
Adrian said nothing.
But when she looked up again, he was already gone.