Chapter 1
The rent for this place was only 300 a month.
The agent said it was haunted, over a dozen tenants had tried, and not one made it through the night.
I laughed. I was not scared of being broke, so why would I be scared of a ghost?
The first night, I declared to the empty air, "Whoever you are, this is my turf now."
When I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I found my shoes tossed clear across the room.
As I hopped on one foot looking for them, I heard a man's stifled laughter coming from nowhere.
The next day, I left a sticky note: [Since you've got nothing better to do, do the laundry. Hand-wash the underwear.]
The next morning, a new line was written on the note: [It's done.]
The handwriting was neat, so the ghost was probably good-looking.
*****
I shook my head. Was I really getting turned on by a ghost?
"Miss, maybe you should think this over a bit more? This apartment is really... not right for you." Rylee spoke with her eyes darting toward the bedroom door the whole time.
She clutched the key ring in her hand, the keys jangling noisily in her palm.
She had been an agent for eight years. She had rented out all kinds of weird places. Homes where people had died, crime scenes, units right next to a crematorium.
As long as the price was low enough, there was always someone fearless ready to take it.
But not this apartment.
"Rylee, let's cut to the chase," I said, sliding my phone into my pocket. "Just tell me the price."
Rylee sighed and pulled me into the hallway. She lowered her voice. "I'll be straight with you. This unit is about nine hundred fifty square feet, middle floor. You know what the market rent should be?"
"Over fifteen hundred dollars a month," I said.
"Right! At least eighteen hundred!" Rylee was practically spitting with excitement.
"But you know how long the last tenant lasted? One night! She called me at six in the morning. She said, 'Rylee, you need to come now. I'm leaving my stuff behind, keep the deposit, I just need to get out of here!'"
"Another one night stand?" I asked.
"Eleventh one," Rylee said, holding up two fingers in a V sign. "No, wait, counting that young guy this week, that makes twelve."
I leaned against the wall. The motion sensor light in the hallway flicked off and on, then off again.
Sixth floor, no elevator. It left me winded just climbing up.
But the sunlight was great, the layout was square, and the living room had a bay window. I liked it the moment I saw it.
"What does the owner say?" I asked.
Rylee said, "What can he say? He's going crazy. Bought it as an investment, and now he's stuck with it.
"He has to pay property fees, utilities, and the mortgage every month. He's stuck out of town and calls me crying every day."
Rylee pulled out her phone to show me the chat history.
"Look, yesterday he messaged me. [Rylee, if you have to, list it dirt cheap. Three hundred dollars.Is that low enough? I just need someone living there, anyone!]"
I mulled over the number in my head.
My current place was a tiny, partitioned room. About a hundred square feet, no window, seven hundred dollars a month.
Every morning, I woke up not knowing if it was day or night. The guy next door played video games until four in the morning.
There was only a layer of drywall between us. When he coughed, my whole bed frame vibrated.
Three hundred dollars. Nine hundred fifty square feet. North-south exposure.
"Haunted, right?" I said.
Rylee froze for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. Haunted. It's creepy as hell."
"What kind of ghost?" I asked.
"No one can really describe it," Rylee said, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Some say they hear voices at night. Some say they get nudged awake. Some find their shoes thrown around.
"Some see the bathroom light turn on by itself. Nobody sticks around long enough to get the full story. They're all too scared to talk; they just want to run."
"Has it hurt anyone?" I asked.
"Not that I've heard of. It's just... unsettling."
I stayed quiet for a moment. The hallway was still. I could hear someone cooking downstairs, the sizzle of scallions, ginger, and garlic hitting a hot pan. The smell of oil smoke drifted up, stinging my eyes.
"I'll take it," I said.
Rylee's mouth opened and closed before she managed, "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"You're not scared?" she asked.
I let out a short laugh. "Rylee, I'm seventy six hundred dollars in credit card debt and another twenty six hundred dollars on my credit line.
"I didn't hit my sales target last month. If I don't close a deal this month, I can't even afford that partition room. What exactly am I supposed to be scared of?"
Rylee looked at me for a long moment, then shoved the key ring into my hand.
"Alright then. One month's rent and one month's deposit, six hundred dollars total. When are you moving in?"
"Today," I said.