Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dật lạc (n) generally means leisure and happiness, often used to refer to a life of leisurely pleasures, without competition.

-

"Mydei, wanna hang out?"

"Maybe later."

His friends could only watch helplessly as that familiar figure disappeared down the staircase.

"Damn, what's up with him these days? The second school's out, all he does is head straight home!"

The vivid, shoulder-length hair, a brilliant shade of orange that shimmered like the evening sun, captivated the attention of nearly every student who passed by. There was something about its striking hue that drew in both girls and boys alike, even catching the eye of the usually aloof Student Council members. It wasn’t as if he sought out this attention; he had attempted to tame his wild mane with frequent cuts, but like an unruly weed, it sprang back to life in no time at all. Ultimately, he surrendered to its vibrant nature, opting instead to tame a single strand on the left into a loose braid, allowing the rest to flow freely around his face.

Another unmistakable feature...one that frequently landed him in trouble was the intricate pattern of crimson tattoos sprawled across his body. He refused to explain them.

Onlookers would see a high schooler in a disheveled uniform, his shirt unbuttoned down to the second notch, bolting straight toward the bike racks. His black blazer, draped casually over his shoulders, made him stand out amidst a sea of white-uniformed students.

The moment the school bell rang, Mydeimos, a sixteen-year-old high school student would sling his bag over his shoulder and dash straight home.

Normally, he would stick around, maybe shoot some hoops or kick a soccer ball with his classmates for a bit. But today, he had forgotten to give that guy a heads-up, so he had no choice but to rush back first.

Mydei had to admit he had been worried about that guy. Leaving him alone at home, who knew if he'd get up to something stupid?

…Hm, unlikely.

That white-haired idiot was usually well-behaved.

His bicycle rested in the expansive courtyard of his home, perfectly parked and secured with a sturdy lock. Everything was in order. Check. A well-worn bag hung from his shoulder, its familiar weight reassuring. Check. He fished the keys from his pocket, feeling the cool metal against his fingers. Check.

As he slowed his stride, anticipation building, he positioned the key at the entrance, ready to unlock the door when an unusual scent wafted through the air, sending a jolt of unease down his spine.

…Burnt?

"Don't tell me—" he muttered under his breath, the words barely escaping his lips before he turned the key with a sharp twist. With a sudden surge of urgency, Mydeimos flung the door open, his sneakers thudding against the floor as he kicked off his shoes, and rushed inside, the weight of dread heavy on his chest.

Times like these, he cursed how spacious the house was, it was too large for just him… and that 'person'. His father had passed away early, and his mother was the CEO of a company overseas. Before he could take over her legacy, Mydei had no choice but to live independently, focusing on his studies until he was old enough.

Gorgo didn't reach out to him often.

Mydeimos understood. His mother carried a mountain of responsibilities on her shoulders. He knew this because he regularly corrected grammatical errors and language inconsistencies in some of her documents. She was more than capable of handling it herself, of course, but he had offered to help proofread her work.

He sprinted into the kitchen.

By all logic, a life like his should have been a incredibly lonely one.

"Phainon!" he called.

But on one particularly unfortunate day, Mydei stumbled upon… a ghost.

And just like that, solitude ceased to exist.

Let's be absolutely clear: Mydei picked up a ghost.

And not just any ghost.

A massive one.

From inside the kitchen, a pale-haired man with ashen-skinned, near corpse-like appearance turned toward the house's rightful owner with a pitiful, almost guilty expression. A long white coat draped over his frame, a suspiciously large smear of golden-hued blood staining its fabric. Beneath it, he wore a tight-fitting black shirt and slim-cut black pants.

But the part that annoyed Mydei the most? The damn boots.

A black choker wrapped snugly around his neck, and perhaps most unsettling of all, his eyes were entirely obscured by layers of medical gauze.

Now, why did Mydei refer to this guy as massive? And why, of all things, did he despise those boots?

Because this oversized phantom was already absurdly tall, yet he still insisted on wearing platformed soles to make himself even taller.

At sixteen, Mydeimos was already brushing one meter eighty, and he was still growing.

Still.

Still.

He had no choice but to crane his neck until it hurt.

Because the ghost named Phainon stood at a ridiculous two meters thirty.

In one hand, he still clutched a whisk. On the floor sat a mixing bowl filled with ith a suspicious concoction that looked vaguely like batter. His gaze shifted to the oven, where the charred remains of the ghost's latest culinary disaster smoldered in silence. It was clear that this wasn’t the first time he had danced with disaster in the kitchen.

Noticing how long Mydei had been forced to look up, Phainon was worried he'd strain his neck so he immediately dropped down onto the floor. Like a child caught red-handed in the middle of a crime scene.

"…Me try cook."

Phainon confessed, utterly dejected.

Another fun fact? This ghost couldn't speak properly.

Phainon could only manage broken, fragmented words, never a complete sentence. However, it was enough for Mydei to piece together what he meant.

Apparently, he could speak some kind of ghost language (?), but since the human in this equation had no way of understanding it, Phainon had taken it upon himself to learn human speech just for him.

Mydei shook his head. So it turned out Phainon had been trying to cook.

"You don't have to do this. If you're craving something, I'll make it for you."

A flicker of unease crept into the student's heart as the ghost's voice grew even more aggrieved.

"Me want cook for you."

For a brief moment, he found himself utterly speechless. A rush of warmth enveloped him, stirring emotions he hadn't felt in ages. As he had said before, he'd lived alone for quite some time before he had 'picked up' Phainon. During that period, there had been no one else but him, taking care of himself. And yet, this ridiculous, platinum-haired ghost wanted to make something for him...

"I appreciate the thought, but there's no need. You're ruining the cake, by the way."

He pointed at the charred-black pastry inside the oven.

Phainon pouted and looked at him expectantly.

"Bad?"

Oh, for heaven's sake, someone save Mydeimos. Because moments like this. When the ghost, despite his towering frame, looked utterly… adorable were a disaster for his composure. He swore Phainon could lift him with one hand, wrap an arm around his waist and make him disappear into his embrace just like that. And yet, despite his best efforts, Mydei had never, not once, succeeded in resisting the effect of that face.

Not that the way the phantom spoke helped in any way.

But this time, Mydei would stand firm.

He crossed his arms, nodding with absolute certainty.

"Bad."

Phainon cast a dejected glance at the floor.

With a sigh, Mydei busied himself tidying up the kitchen. When he turned back, the ghost was gone.

Guilt pricked at him.

Phainon had complete control over whether he manifested, as well as who could perceive him. Most of the time, he allowed only Mydei to see him, remaining invisible to everyone else. Moreover, he could interact with objects in the physical world if he so wished.

Mydeimos lifted the completely charred cake, a sad amalgamation of burnt edges and ashen frosting, barely resembling anything edible.

With a heavy sigh, he braced himself and took a tentative bite.

The acrid bitterness struck his palate like a jolt, and he couldn't help but wince as he forced it down.

Then, he turned to the empty space around him and spoke up, "Phainon, where are you? Come out and...hold me."

No response.

His eyes narrowed slightly. That was odd. Usually, no matter how sulky Phainon got, the moment Mydei asked for a hug, he would appear without fail.

He tried again.

"The cake is delicious. Come on out."

Still, nothing.

It seemed he had no choice but to pull out his ultimate move.

"Phainon, I'll be sad."

Not even a second later, as if the words had flipped an invisible switch, Phainon materialized behind him, arms wrapping around him in an instant.

The height difference enveloped Mydei in an embrace that felt almost like being consumed whole. For someone like a school heartthrob, tall and effortlessly charming, this awkward position was more than just a little embarrassing.

The ghost's cold presence surrounded him, Phainon's chin resting on his shoulder, strands of snowy white hair falling over him.

"No sad..."

Maybe… maybe this was one of the things he loved most about Phainon.

The ghost simply couldn't stand seeing his human upset.

Mydei reached up, running his fingers through the silky white strands. Phainon's eyes were perpetually hidden behind white bandages—Mydei had never asked what had happened, nor did he intend to. And yet, despite being blindfolded, Phainon always seemed to perceive everything around him with perfect clarity.

Then, he pointed at the burnt cake.

"Phainon. If we eat food that's overly burnt, it can be harmful to our health."

Phainon tilted his head slightly, caught off guard.

"Harmful to...health?"

Mydei nodded firmly.

"Not good."

With a single motion, Mydei found himself spun around.

Phainon's handsome yet slightly troubled face greeted him, his cool hands still loosely holding onto him. Though the ghost was clearly disappointed by his own nonexistent cooking skills being criticized, the fact that it could affect Mydei's health was an entirely different matter.

This was far worse. Much, much worse.

"But you ate it."

"It's fine. I only had a little because you made it."

Phainon pressed his forehead against Mydei's, rubbing against him gently, like an oversized white-furred pup seeking comfort.

"Me sorry."

Mydei closed his eyes, surrendering to the moment until Phainon finally let go. When he opened them again, the first thing he saw was the ghost unceremoniously tossing the painstakingly made cake straight into the trash, his decision absolute.

And with that, today's little incident finally came to an end, life returning to its usual rhythm.

Phainon effortlessly hoisted Mydei's heavy school bag with one hand before disappearing into his room to put it away. In the early days of their cohabitation, the ghost had even dared to carry both him and his bag into the room at the same time. Thankfully, he had been quick to insist that he could walk on his own, otherwise, he'd probably still be getting carried around like that.

"How school today?"

"Nothing noteworthy."

"Anyone...bully you?"

Mydei frowned. Was this ghost watching too many dramas at home? Sure, there had been a few dangerous situations in the past. Back then, Phainon had been so furious that he had revealed himself on impulse.

And, well… no matter how handsome a guy might be, if he happened to stand at a towering 2.3 meters, any sane person would still run for their life.

"And if I was?"

"Me punch them."

A hand reached up, ruffling the ghost's hair in a slow, soothing motion.
Mydeimos knew that Phainon only ever allowed himself to be this docile for him and no one else. If he wanted to, the ghost could be truly lethal. He was dangerous–

"Me big...Me strong...Me protect you."

The ghost practically melted under his touch, shamelessly enjoying the head pats.

—Despite looking for all the world like an oversized, fluffy white hound.

"Don't do that. I'm fine."

"Good."

At this point, he was so used to it that he didn't even react when the much taller ghost flashed a grin wide enough to split his face in half. No one would ever guess how terrified he had been the first time he saw that expression.

A familiar chill brushed against his palm—a calculated plea.

Mydeimos sighed.

"Phainon, not now. No sleeping."

"Want cuddle."

"I have math homework today."

"Me help."

And that right there was the greatest injustice of this entire situation.

Phainon, a ghost who couldn't even string a full sentence together properly, was somehow better at math than him. Still, under his guidance (limited to multiple-choice questions, because Phainon's explanations were an absolute nightmare), Mydei had actually improved in the one subject he despised the most.

By the time they made it to the bedroom, he headed straight for the bathroom. The moment he closed the door, he heard the familiar sound of a zipper being pulled open, followed by rustling and the telltale shuffling of someone rifling through his school bag.

He was used to it. It was fine.

When he finally emerged, towel still draped around his neck, he was greeted by the sight of a lanky ghost sprawled out on the floor. Phainon lay flat on his stomach, a pencil in one hand, Mydei's open math notebook in front of him. That same impossibly wide grin was still on his face.

Sometimes, Mydei genuinely wondered how Phainon could even see through those bandages wrapped around his eyes.

And somehow, by some unfathomable force…

He could still do math.

"Me do it."

Mydeimos nodded.

"Alright, show me."

He flopped down beside Phainon, lying on his stomach. Somewhere in the room, his desk was probably crying over the fact that they had, once again, chosen to study on the floor instead.

A firm, cold arm wrapped around him, effortlessly pulling him closer.

Phainon's fingers gently tucked a pencil into his hand before taking hold of it entirely, guiding him through the motions of writing. Mydei's hand looked so small compared to Phainon's, swallowed completely in his grasp. Just like how, with a single hand, the ghost could nearly encircle his entire waist.

"This question."

"Got it."

And so, the night passed in slow, steady progress, perhaps at a snail's pace, but progress nonetheless.

By the time Phainon finally got a chance to cuddle Mydei to sleep in bed, Mydei still couldn't shake the surreal nature of his life. A little cold, but it felt like he was tucked into a nest. A very large, oversized nest. If only the person holding him wasn't so absurdly big. He sighed softly, resigning himself as Phainon buried his face against his chest.

Still, thanks to Phainon, life felt a little less lonely.

Oh, but the real question was how exactly did Mydei end up being haunted by a ghost like this?

The answer?

It all started on a night of pouring rain...

Chapter Text

Thụy vũ (n) means a rain that heralds good omens, also refers to 'timely rain as a blessing from heaven.'

-

As mentioned, it all began on a late afternoon drowned in torrential rain.

Mydeimos hunched over beneath a transparent umbrella, scouring the soaked ground alone. His bicycle lay abandoned nearby, its front brake and wheel slightly bent out of shape. Blood seeped through the black fabric of his uniform pants, staining both knees where deep scrapes marred his skin. Each time the rainwater touched the open wounds, he grit his teeth and ignored the sting because he couldn't leave. Not yet.

Just minutes ago, a car had swerved into the wrong lane and hit him.

He had barely managed to react in time, dodging just enough to avoid a direct, fatal impact. But a hit was still a hit. His bike was damaged, his body was battered, and worse yet, several of his belongings had been sent flying.

As someone both wealthy and financially pragmatic, Mydei had immediately recognized the type of person who hit him. He bet they were a rich bastard as reflected in the sleek, high-end car they had been driving. But apparently, money didn't buy a decent personality.

He exhaled sharply, eyes scanning the ground, fingers combing through the overgrown grass by the roadside in search of what he had lost.

The driver who hit him had sped off without a second thought, as if nothing had happened.

"Fucking bastard…"

He cursed under his breath.

The wind was picking up. The storm was worsening. Being out here at this hour was dangerous.

His fingernails were caked with dirt.

Thanks to the unexpected accident, several of his belongings had been scattered. There were a bento box with his leftover lunch, a pair of glasses he rarely used, and most importantly… the ring his mother had given him.

The bento box was a lost cause. He couldn't find it anywhere. The glasses, however, had landed precariously on the edge of a storm drain, seconds away from slipping through. He had barely managed to snatch them back in time.

But the ring—

Dread clawed its way into his chest.

What if it had fallen through?

The ring was a gift from his mother, Gorgo. A wide-band signet ring, forged from an alloy of gold. A trident was etched into its surface. His mother had told him that, in ancient times, the symbol represented power and status. Nowadays, it was merely personal ornamentation. She had said it suited him, had given it to him as something precious.

It was the most valuable gift she had ever bestowed upon him.

…He couldn't afford to lose it.

Unfortunately, all his efforts were in vain. The ring was gone.

Mydei's legs gave out beneath him, too weak from kneeling on his injured knees for so long. The storm howled louder, its fury intensifying. As if the universe had decided he wasn't miserable enough, a violent gust of wind flipped his umbrella inside out, snapping its frame.

The wind was too strong.

"This is getting dangerous…!"

Gritting his teeth, Mydeimos clenched the broken umbrella in one hand and forced himself upright. He cast one last desperate glance along the roadside before deciding he had no choice. He needed to leave. Now.

With that, he grabbed his bike and pushed it toward the nearest shelter he could find.

A 24/7 convenience store.

A tired sigh escaped him as he rolled his bicycle under the store's awning. Through the glass, he saw the empty aisles and the lone store clerk glued to his phone, uninterested in anything beyond his screen. Deciding he might as well take advantage of the stop, Mydei stepped inside. If possible, he'd buy a new umbrella and grab something to eat.

The automatic doors let out a soft 'ding' as they slid open to welcome him.

The cashier barely acknowledged his presence, glancing up for a second before returning to his game.

Mydei tossed the useless remains of his umbrella into the trash before heading further inside. Moving with practiced ease, he picked out a variety of rice balls for a quick meal, along with some disinfectant and bandages. He doubted the storm would let up anytime soon, and he'd likely be stuck here for a while. Snagging a compact umbrella on his way to the register, he placed everything on the counter. The clerk lazily stood up, starting the slow process of scanning each item.

Then—

The automatic doors chimed again.

Both of them instinctively turned toward the entrance.

Mydeimos' eyes widened, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest.

The cashier, on the other hand, only muttered in annoyance.

"Ugh, the damn doors are broken again?"

The student in his crisp uniform stood rooted to the spot, an invisible weight pinning him down. Panic surged within him; every instinct screamed to retreat, to flee. Despite all of that, his legs remained stubbornly still, like they were carved from stone. His eyes were drawn to the doorway, an unyielding magnet he couldn't tear himself away from.

'Why the hell isn't the cashier seeing that thing?!'

At the entrance stood a figure.Tall. Unbelievably tall.

Mydei estimated that the man towered over two meters, perhaps even taller. He had an unmistakably human form, though everything about him felt otherworldly. His hair was a striking white and his outfit appeared to be a strange attire...something resembling knightly cosplay. His skin was deathly pale, almost ghostly, and his eyes were tightly wrapped with medical bandages.

The doorway was too low for him. So, the thing simply twisted its neck at a disturbing right angle to step inside.

Even through the layers of cloth, Mydei could feel its gaze drilling into him. A slow, wide grin split across its face, stretching far beyond what should be natural.

"…"

His breathing grew uneven. His fingers twitched at his sides, tempted to slap himself just to check if this was real.

"Paying by card or cash?"

The cashier's voice yanked him out of his daze. Mydei swallowed hard.

"…Card."

The employee clearly didn't see it. If he did, he'd be screaming his lungs out by now.

With uncharacteristic clumsiness, Mydei fumbled into his pocket for his bank card, hands shaking far too much for his liking. It slipped through his fingers and clattered onto the floor. He inhaled sharply, muttered a quiet 'Sorry,' and crouched down to pick it up. That's when he glanced back at the door—

The thing's face was now upside down, inches from his own.

The ghost hadn't bent its knees. No. His waist had simply folded twice, forming a grotesque right angle, bringing it terrifyingly close. That haunting, toothy grin was still plastered on its face.

Mydeimos didn't know.

He didn't know what force helped him stand up and shove the card into the cashier's hands.

He didn't know what force made him snatch his bag of groceries and sprint out the door.

He didn't know what force drove him to run faster than he had ever run before despite his battered knees, despite the raging storm.

Mydei had always been cautious, each step measured and intentional. The road home lay just ahead, and an urgent spark ignited within him. If he could keep running, he might just make it in time! He could reach the safety of locked doors. Though, deep down he wasn't sure if that would change anything at all.

A path unfurled before him.

The alley! Home was so close now-

Typically, when one nears the cusp of achieving something, their first instinct is to glance back. It's a universal truth, one that held even in this moment.

That was his fatal mistake. He looked back.

His breath hitched, nearly abandoning him entirely, as his gaze leveled at the chest of someone or something. Only now did he notice the ghastly detail: a lethal slash marred its flesh, crusted with golden blood that streaked around the wound's jagged edges. A chilling frost enveloped him, sinking into his bones.

The thing parted its lips, uttering something, but terror deafened Mydei to its words. He had to—

In a frantic whirl, Mydei spun around a little too fast. His ankle couldn't keep pace. A sickening crack echoed through the air as his already faltering legs, weighed down by sodden clothes, betrayed him. He crumpled to the ground.

His ankle was twisted.

The pain was excruciating.

Mydeimos didn't dare look. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could will the man—no, the ghost out of existence.

He cursed his relentless misfortune. Nearly flattened by a car, his bike wrecked, a precious belonging lost and now, his very life teetered on the edge.

"Mom…"

Mydei's heart ached for her. He longed for her presence beside him, yet prayed she'd never come near this nightmare. His chest tightened, as though crushed by an invisible fist. He'd leave her behind, alone, just like his father had. "I'm sorry…"

Then, abruptly, the torrential rain… stopped? The relentless drops no longer pummeled the trembling student. Instead, a rhythmic pat-pat sounded as they struck a taut fabric surface.

Instinctively, Mydei's eyes fluttered open only to freeze in stunned disbelief.

The ghostly figure loomed closer, bending slightly. He extended a hand, clutching the umbrella he had discarded earlier. The creature had twisted it back into shape, its fragile frame now shielding him from the downpour. The canopy wavered, unsteady, but it held the rain at bay for now.

He heard his voice.

"Me no hurt you."

Mydeimos sank into a mire of bewilderment. After all, this thing… he didn't seem intent on harming him, did he?

He could only stare, wide-eyed, at the pale face. He was strikingly handsome in an eerie way even with his eyes shrouded beneath a tight bandage. Then the being extended his other hand toward him. Mydei flinched, recoiling instinctively.

However, that arm merely slipped around his chest, hoisting him up with effortless grace to prop him against the alley wall.

No harm came to him.

The towering figure then crouched beside him, knees bent, planting the broken umbrella between them. His tattered canopy stretched just enough to shield them both. Beside the ghost, Mydei looked impossibly small, dwarfed by its looming presence.

He tilted his head upward. Heavens above, he'd steadied himself somewhat, but that ear-to-ear grin still sent an uneasy shiver down his spine.

The specter raised a long, slender forefinger, pointing at his own face.

"Me. No. Hurt. You."

He repeated, deliberate and slow.

Mydeimos paused, a long silence stretching between them, before he replied hesitantly.

"Okay…"

The strange entity rummaged through its pocket, fishing out something small and golden, something achingly familiar.

His eyes widened.

"You drop this, me return."

The student felt his life had just scaled the peak of absurdity. Gingerly, he plucked the ring from the creature's outstretched palm. This was real. It was actually happening.

For the first time on this wretched, unlucky day, a faint smile tugged at Mydei's lips.

"Thank you."

This was no trifling object, it meant everything to him.

Thank the heavens… or perhaps the depths below, that the ring had found its way back to him—delivered by a phantom that, by all rights, shouldn't even exist.

The white-haired specter rummaged once more, pulling out another object. Oh, it was Mydei's lunchbox. But when he pried it open, he discovered the leftovers inside had vanished. Glancing up, he caught the hulking phantom's sheepish, almost guilty expression.

"Good food, me eat, sorry."

Mydei shook his head. It was just leftovers, after all.

"It's fine."

The gloom that had clouded the creature's face lifted instantly, that audacious grin blooming anew.

Mydeimos took a moment to study the entity again. With a body temperature this frigid, skin so deathly pale, and a height that defied reason, there was no chance this thing was human.

A benevolent ghost, perhaps?

He shifted slightly, only to realize his leg had gone completely numb. Mydei considered that he might enlist this… supernatural being's help.

"I want to get home. Can you assist me? My leg's injured."

Without hesitation, he pointed toward the alley's exit.

"My house is just over there."

Most would find such a request burdensome, but this creature was an enigma. The white-haired phantom's grin stretched impossibly wider. And somehow Mydei found it oddly familiar now, his fear stripping away his fear. The ghost then nodded eagerly, almost comically so.

"Me help!"

The entity rose to his feet.

And once again, Mydeimos was confronted with the staggering reality of its towering stature. Unfazed by the rain, the ghost shed its long, heavy-looking white coat. He, still grounded, furrowed his brow. What was it planning—

In one fluid motion, he wrapped Mydei in the coat and scooped him up as if the human weighed nothing.

"Hey, what—"

He, a strapping, handsome high school student, was being lifted like a child's toy. The coat felt faintly cool against his skin, yet it was miraculously dry, its subtle, pleasant scent curling around him as it draped over his shoulders.

The white-haired specter let out a rumbling chuckle.

"You light."

Mydei thumped a fist against the creature's solid chest in a playful reprimand. Unbelievable… the sheer disparity in their sizes was glaringly obvious. The thought alone sent a flush creeping up his cheeks. Mydei was accustomed to being the one lifting others, not the one cradled—even if his rescuer wasn't human.

He felt like a drenched kitten swaddled in a plush white towel, carried home to safety.

He sighed. Just this once.

He pointed toward his house.

"Over here."

"Yes. Yes."

-

At last, he was home.

Only, Mydei hadn't returned alone, he'd dragged a hulking phantom along with him.

The phantom set him down gently on the living room sofa, its oversized coat still draped around his shoulders. Then he plopped onto the floor in front of him with a heavy thud.

"Hey, ghost guy, what's your name?"

He tilted its head, mulling it over for a moment before answering.

"Phai…non."

"Phainon?"

"Phainon!"

Thankfully, the name rolled off the tongue easily enough.

The living room lights remained off, the only illumination spilling in from the luminous moon outside. In the dimness, Phainon looked far more monstrous. He was truly a creature of nightmare. Mydei might have thought so had he not already witnessed the kindness beneath that eerie exterior.

That pale, bandaged face, its eyes hidden, turned toward him, staring intently.

The longer he looked, the more Phainon resembled a colossal fluffy puppy.

'So… isn't he going to just… vanish?'

Feeling the silence stretched too thin between them, the human took the initiative to break it.

"Today… thank you for finding my things and bringing me home."

"…You're a good ghost."

The moment those words left Mydei's lips, it was as if Phainon froze mid-motion. Then, a goofy grin split his face, and he let out a laugh. It was strange and unearthly, yet brimming with an inexplicable joy.

"Thank. You."

As if craving more praise, he nuzzled his face against Mydei's knee, playful and almost petulant. But he stopped short when he caught the sharp intake of Mydei's breath.

The phantom realized his human was hurt.

"You. Hurt."

He uttered the two words bluntly, his expression clouding with sorrow. Before Mydei could assure him it wasn't a big deal, the towering phantom sprang to his feet and darted through the house. He moved with an uncanny familiarity, as if he'd memorized its layout long ago. Suspicious, to say the least…

Phainon returned with a basin of warm water and a towel. He'd even retrieved the small bag of bandages and antiseptic Mydei had bought from the convenience store.

Then, settling back on the floor, Phainon cradled his injured legs, tending to it with meticulous care. The ghost's cool touch enveloped his entire foot effortlessly. With his other hand, he gently washed away the blood from the scrapes. Strangely, though the pain had been sharp earlier, it had now faded entirely.

"You… good?"

Every so often, Phainon paused to ask, his tone laced with worry, as if he feared applying too much pressure.

"I'm fine."

Mydei's voice caught slightly in his throat.

The sensation of being cared for after so many days of solitary existence felt utterly foreign. He'd assumed he'd be left to tend his own wounds in silence, licking them clean alone. Yet here he was, a ghost tending to him with a tenderness and indulgence that defied belief.

Mydei no longer feared Phainon.

Quite the opposite, he was rather striking in his own way.

As the minutes passed, time felt like it elongated into an endless expanse, the world around him becoming a distant memory. Mydei hadn’t realized how profoundly he had let go of his tension until he succumbed to sleep, his body sagging gently as Phainon worked meticulously on the bandages.

The final sensation that lingered in his consciousness was the touch of a cool, gentle breeze, whispering against his skin, mingled with the soft cadence of murmured words that drifted through the air.

“You sleep… well.”

-

As dawn broke, Mydei stirred, a heavy weight resting atop his thighs.

He blinked in confusion, realizing he had spent the night upright, fatigue from the previous day's harrowing events holding him captive in a sitting position.

Glancing down, he saw his leg had been carefully cleaned and expertly bandaged, a stark contrast to the chaotic memories that swirled in his mind.

Everything might have felt normal until his hand brushed against something soft and white. He froze, his mind blanking for a moment before he forced his bleary eyes downward once more.

The ghost from last night was still there, sprawled on the floor, his face nestled comfortably against his lap. His long arms encircled Mydei's waist with effortless ease.

Sensing his awakening, Phainon lifted his head eagerly. That eerie grin spread across his face once more, though it couldn't mask the unmistakable delight shimmering beneath.

"Good. Morning. You."

This was how they met.

And this was how Mydei unwittingly adopted an oversized, clingy ghost who'd haunt him quite literally from that day forward.

Chapter Text

Thiên chương (n) refers to beautiful, radiant celestial bodies, and figuratively it is used to denote things that are beautiful and splendid, like the stars and moon in the night sky.

_

"Aren't you going to leave—?"

When Mydei peeled his eyes open and found Phainon still lingering in his home, those were the first words to tumble from his lips. But before he could finish, a violent cough seized him, cutting his sentence short. He clapped a hand over his mouth, fingers brushing against his throat, now raw and throbbing with pain.

With all due respect, Mydeimos wanted to climb a ladder to the heavens and scream at the sky.

Thanks to last night's relentless drenching, sickness had claimed him.

"You… sick?"

The white-haired phantom's voice trembled with concern, pitching higher than its usual gravelly tone.

Mydeimos's head pounded relentlessly. His throat burned. At least his nose wasn't clogged, that was the worst torment of any illness. A shiver raced down his spine, his body prickling with numbness, especially in his injured legs.

The student realized he'd need to skip school. It was Thursday. He could just take four days including the weekend to recover and drag himself back to class next week.

A shadow loomed over him, jolting him from his thoughts.

It was Phainon.

While Mydei sat slumped on the sofa, still swathed in the ghost's oversized white coat, Phainon rose to his full height. He leaned forward, planting both hands against the wall on either side of Mydei, caging him in with no escape. Caught off guard by the sudden 'assault,' Mydei tilted his head back, bumping it lightly against the wall behind him.

Why did the ever-grinning ghost now look so… serious?

Was he about to devour him? No way—

"Phainon…"

The blond-orange-haired teenager murmured, voice soft, praying his instincts were wrong. The phantom tilted his head closer, and Mydei's eyes slammed shut on reflex. In the darkness behind his lids, he felt an odd sensation, something unexpected.

Well, perhaps he'd overreacted.

Phainon's forehead pressed gently against Mydei's, lingering there for a long, suspended moment. Mydei kept his eyes squeezed shut, his mind a chaotic whirl, utterly lost as to what the ghost intended.

When he finally dared to peek, he was met with Phainon's face which had just twisted into a mournful, almost pitiful grimace. The sight tugged at something deep in his chest, a pang of empathy mingling with his confusion, leaving him breathless in the quiet tension between them.

"You sick…you hot."

A pang of pity stirred in Mydei's chest for the creature, despite the fact that Phainon was, undeniably, part of why he'd been caught in yesterday's tempest.

"It's alright, really. I'll be fine in a few days."

His voice rasped, rough and strained, lacking its usual clarity. That seemed to plunge the ghost deeper into despair.

Phainon sank to the floor beside Mydei's feet, forcing him to lean forward to peer down at him. A single strand of white hair atop the phantom's head drooped, curling inward as if mirroring the storm of emotions churning within him.

Something seeped from beneath the bandages shrouding his eyes.

"Phainon…?"

Mydeimos faltered, stunned. Wait, was that his blood? Golden blood. The ghost was weeping tears of molten gold. Soft, low, shuddering sobs escaped him as he curled into a massive, miserable heap on the floor.

"Me make you sick."

Mydei let out a quiet sigh.

"I told you, it's fine. Everyone gets sick, it's just because I'm human."

But his reassurances, straight from the victim's mouth, failed to sway the hulking specter. Golden blood soaked through the white bandages, dripping onto the floor in delicate, glistening stains.

"Yesterday. Rain. Big."

"Me… Me. Only. Want. Help. You."

Though it was Phainon's signature stilted speech, the words carried an unintended weight as if he were straining with every fiber of his being to force them out. Or perhaps he truly was.

Another coughing fit seized Mydei, ambushing him without warning. When it subsided, he hesitated at first, then resolved to rest a hand on Phainon's back, patting gently in comfort. That broad expanse felt vast beneath his palm, faintly chilled to the touch. So this was what it felt like to lay hands on a genuine creature of myth.

"Ahem, it's okay. You've helped me so much already, Phainon."

The ghost shook his head, his voice trembling with a whimper. That wide, jubilant grin he so often wore...now it seemed flipped upside down, a haunting inversion of its former self, steeped in sorrow.

"Me only want be…with you."

Mydei's hand froze mid-motion at this new revelation. The ghost… wanted to stay by his side. Wasn't that why he was still lingering in the house even as dawn broke? Meanwhile, Phainon remained hunched over, sobbing into his knees, as though drowning in abject remorse for unintentionally making Mydei ill.

"Stop crying. I'll forgive you if you stop."

It was almost absurd how the enormous ghost complied without hesitation.

With a rough, awkward flick of his sleeve, he wiped away the shimmering golden tears that pooled on the floor. As Mydei watched this unusual spectacle, an unexpected wave of compassion washed over him, pulling at his heartstrings in a way he couldn't ignore.

Did all ghosts behave like this, he wondered?

Mydei was still clad in yesterday's sodden uniform, it was one of the culprits behind his current misery. Deciding he needed to change, he braced himself to stand. However, his twisted left ankle and battered knees had other plans. Just as he teetered, about to crash to the floor and earn himself a fresh head wound, Phainon caught him. Mydei's entire frame leaned into the ghost's steady form.

"Careful."

Mydei sighed again, fingers clutching Phainon's shirt for support.

"Thanks."

At those two words, the phantom's mood seemed to lift, a flicker of brightness returning. He really did thrive on praise, didn't he?

Clinging to the ghost, Mydei embarked on what should've been a short trek to his bedroom but it stretched into an eternity anyways. He shuffled forward, each step trembling and uncertain, his hand enveloped by Phainon's large, cool grip. Perhaps it was pride that kept the student from letting himself be carried again. Phainon, for his part, was a pillar of patience, guiding him every faltering step of the way.

Mydei couldn't help but wonder what he'd done in a past life to end up haunted by a ghost like this.

Yet… it wasn't entirely a bad thing.

-

After changing into fresh clothes, tending to his hygiene, calling in sick to school, and forcing down a bit of porridge, Mydeimos finally collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion claiming him at last.

At first, he'd thought it was just a mild cold, but…

The fever crashed over him like a tidal wave, pinning him beneath the blankets with no desire to emerge.

All the while, Phainon lingered at the foot of his bed. The white bandages over his eyes had been miraculously replaced, pristine and fresh. Truth be told, Mydei didn't want him in the room.

If he turned off the lights later and that figure was still sitting there, it'd be downright creepy.

"Cough, cough...are you planning to sit there forever?"

Phainon flashed a wide, gleeful grin, nodding with such infectious enthusiasm that Mydei abandoned any thought of shooing him out.

Sleep eluded him now; he'd only just woken up, hadn't he? Or perhaps it was just exhaustion. His head spun in dizzying circles, and Mydei suspected that any moment now, he'd start rambling nonsense.

"…"

Silence suddenly swallowed the room.

"Phainon?"

The teenager's eyelids grew heavy. Someone had drawn the curtains and flicked off the lights. The bedroom plunged into an endless abyss of shadow. Though the air conditioner stayed off, the temperature settled into a strange, soothing coolness.

No response. Had he vanished?

Gone without a word?

Mydeimos stared blankly at the ceiling, his body ablaze with fever yet shivering with an icy dread. Damn it, he despised being sick—it stripped him bare, leaving him fragile for no reason at all. The throbbing ache in his twisted ankle yanked him back to reality once more.

What if...just what if this 'Phainon' was a figment of his imagination?

What if he'd been delirious, sprinting through the rain like a madman? Maybe he'd conjured the image of someone bandaging his wounds when, in truth, he'd done it himself. Or perhaps no one had guided him to his room, maybe he'd clung to the walls, dragging himself there alone.

The thought that Phainon might not be real twisted something sour in Mydei's gut.

Because that would mean he'd been alone so long he'd finally lost his mind.

At school, true friends were a luxury he didn't possess.

To everyone around him, Mydeimos was the epitome of a wealthy heir, a young lord with a flourishing career, a path ahead as clear as polished crystal, someone who'd been born at the finish line. Blessed with fortune, striking looks, and undeniable talent, he stood out like an enigma among a crowd who deemed themselves ordinary, unremarkable. Teachers maintained a respectful distance, not out of disdain but caution. They didn't want to entangle themselves in potential trouble or invest too much concern, quietly convinced they'd reap the benefits in a future not so distant.

Mydei was a captive in a gilded cage, an exhibit to be admired, never touched.

His phone lay dormant on the bedside table, devoid of notifications or the faintest whisper of a caring message. The doorbell remained steadfastly silent, its chime undisturbed.

How he longed for the warmth of a genuine companion by his side.

What a naive longing it was. Maybe it was the fever that twisted his thoughts into something delicate and distorted.

Like a child yearning for a lost toy, Mydei reached out into the emptiness. He wanted to try again, just once more.

"Phainon."

"…"

Silence stretched on, unbroken.

Ah, he'd truly been delusional since yesterday—

Then, a hand pressed against the back of his own, large and encompassing like a ladle, fingers threading through his. The voice of the phantom was a cool breath, low and resonant, yet hauntingly familiar. It felt like a tone he'd known from some distant, unplaceable past.

"You. Called."

Mydeimos exhaled softly, his hand slackening just a touch, though Phainon's grip held firm, unrelenting.

"Not 'you.' My name is Mydei."

Though the darkness veiled everything from sight, Mydei could still sense the wicked curve of that grin.

"Dei."

The tender atmosphere shattered with a single word. For a rare, fleeting moment, he wanted to laugh but his raw, aching throat refused to comply.

He wasn't exactly lucid right now, but oh well, let it slide.

"There are two syllables. It's My-dei."

The phantom named Phainon nodded with an almost gleeful enthusiasm.

"...Dei."

A huff escaped him. Whether this was deliberate teasing or sheer stubbornness, he couldn't quite tell.

"Say it again. The first syllable is My."

Phainon complied obediently. "My."

When Mydei followed with "Dei," the phantom echoed it with that same buoyant cheer. Perhaps he genuinely favored the second syllable most, his tone alone betrayed as much.

"Mydei."

A brief pause hung in the air before Phainon followed the final cue. For reasons he couldn't pinpoint, Mydei felt a flicker of nervous anticipation. It was as though he'd been thrust into the role of a teacher, on the verge of molding a star pupil.

And then—

"Dei."

Their impromptu spelling lesson had spanned mere seconds and, evidently, hadn't yielded much success.

Mydeimos resigned himself to silence, accepting the outcome. Fine, Dei it was.

It didn't have to be the warm heat of another person. Turns out, he didn't mind the cool, soothing touch of the hand clasping his so firmly.

So, they knew each other's names now. Did that count as an introduction?

"Ghost guy, are you real?"

He felt an odd certainty that he had to absolutely ask this before exhaustion overtook him and dragged him into sleep once again. And Phainon didn't disappoint his Mydei.

That large hand tightened its grip once more. In that moment, Mydei felt a cascade of sensations: a sudden coolness against his forehead as another hand brushed there and then retreated, an arm slipping around his waist to pull him close, the weight of someone climbing onto the bed and slipping beneath his blankets.

"Me real."

A white cloud swallowed the student whole.

Knowing full well he shouldn't be sharing a bed with an honest-to-goodness ghost (?), Mydei couldn't deny how strangely comforting it felt. After all, if the alternative was a looming specter standing ominously in the dark once the lights were off, wouldn't having it climb into bed and hold you somehow make it less terrifying?

Phainon was real. He was holding him.

A normal person would never tolerate this, such rapid escalation would be unthinkable! But Mydei was far too exhausted to care. Sleep crept up on him once more.

In the end, Mydeimos remained oblivious to the white-haired phantom quietly pressing a kiss to the single braid in his hair, whispering softly, "Missed you."

Chapter Text

Trung khúc (n) refers to the unspoken emotions deep within one's heart, the hidden thoughts and feelings that are difficult to express.

-

When Mydeimos woke to find himself ensnared in the iron grip of a towering, over two meters tall, broad and imposing white-haired ghost, his first thought was that his life was over.

He ended up spending the next three days of his break quietly processing the fact that he has actually adopted a mythical creature.

Why 'adopted,' though? Because ever since that night when he'd babbled nonsense in a fevered haze, Phainon hadn't left his side. Of course, Mydei had straight-up asked the ghost whether he planned to stick around permanently. (Because honestly, he had the sinking suspicion that this guy wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.)

And Phainon's response?

"Indeed~!"

The words dripped with a maddeningly provocative lilt, utterly devoid of elaboration. Infuriating. Though Mydei burned to probe further, he decided ignorance might be the wiser course.

Absolutely not because he also wanted the ghost to stay, of course!

So yeah. Mydeimos was being haunted.

And, strangely, it didn't feel all that terrible.

As he pored over his notes, desperate to keep pace with his studies and prepare for the school day ahead, he stole a glance at Phainon. The specter sprawled languidly across the sofa, clutching a tattered old dictionary he'd unearthed from Mydei's desk drawer.

…Was he trying to learn human language?

Honestly, he thought Phainon spoke just enough for him to understand what he meant. It felt a bit like talking to a child, that was all.

Catching Mydei's blatant stare, the ghost lifted his gaze from the book. His lips curved into a smile, one Mydei found softer than usual. Still unnervingly wide, it gleamed with a radiance akin to the sun itself.

"You alright?"

The student didn't blink, transfixed as if spellbound. Beyond the smile's unsettling allure, by spectral standards, at least it stirred an odd sense of familiarity.

A shiver jolted Mydei as a chill grazed his cheek.

The hefty dictionary now rested on the desk behind him. His chair had been spun to face Phainon, who leaned in close, one hand braced on the desk, the other—large and unyielding—cupping his face. The radiant smile was gone, replaced by an expression of raw, unfiltered concern.

"Dei...you. Alright?"

Mydeimos or Dei froze, caught off guard.

The slightest lapse in focus, the faintest grimace, or the barest hint of discomfort never escaped Phainon's notice. Rather than brushing it aside, the specter zeroed in, his concern palpable, unwavering.

His thoughts veering wildly off course, Mydei instinctively reached out, his fingers brushing the back of Phainon's hand.

Only then did he realize just how incredibly suggestive this position was.

"Back off a little, will you?!"

Poor Phainon didn't even have time to process what was happening before both of Mydei's hands clamped down onto his face. The student's ears blazed a vivid crimson, his sunset hair catching the light as his gaze darted to the floor, unable to meet the ghost's eyes.

Ordinarily, such a push would've sent anyone sprawling. But unfortunately for Mydei, this ghost came with experience. With audacious ease, he pressed a fleeting kiss to the palm of his human's hand.

Mydei's eyes widened, stunned, as if lightning had struck. After giving his brain a generous amount of time to process what had just happened, he finally came to a decision.

Like a bristling, outraged kitten, Mydei promptly decided to throw the ghost out.

For the rest of the day, Phainon was officially banned from setting foot inside his bedroom. The poor ghost sat gloomily in front of the door like an oversized, abandoned puppy waiting for its human to come back. Eventually, guilt gnawed at him, and he cracked the door open only to find Phainon fumbling an apology in his halting, newly learned tongue.

"Sorry…Be-cause. Dei…"

He paused, visibly wracking his brain for one of those weird new words he'd found in the dictionary.

"…is. Cute!"

The door slammed shut again. Harder, this time.

That may very well have been his first heartbreak on his journey to mastering human language.

Yet, somehow, by some inexplicable means, Phainon infiltrated his human's room that night. And there, under the cover of darkness, he wrapped his cherished human in an unyielding embrace, determined to sleep by his side.

-

Monday arrived at last.

By the third or fourth time waking up in Phainon's arms, Mydeimos had regrettably become somewhat trained to the experience. At this point, it had become routine. Every morning without fail, the ghost grew increasingly bold and shameless. Sure, he would back down when scolded about most things but when it came to climbing into bed and wrapping himself around Mydei like a blanket?

Absolutely non-negotiable.

And the student found this deeply concerning.

Still… there was one redeeming factor: Phainon could cool the bed, which helped him sleep better in the heat.

It took him a moment to adjust to the morning light. Sleepily, he let his hand drift down until it landed beneath the ghost's chin, giving him a gentle, absentminded rub.

"Phainon, time to wake up. Let me go."

This was, by far, the most effective way to get him up. (Not that Mydei was ever entirely sure Phainon actually slept.)

As expected, the ghost let out a low, pleased noise and nuzzled against him before loosening his grip like opening a cage for a kitten to slip free. Mydei let out a quiet sigh of relief as his feet finally touched the floor, and he stepped away to begin the day.

Mydei was an early riser.

After slipping into his uniform and packing up his school bag, he still had time left to prepare both breakfast and lunch.

"Phainon." he called.

Whoosh. Just like that, the ghost appeared beside him, as if carried in by the wind.

"Want to eat with me?"

On the table sat two plates of pancakes, drizzled with rich maple syrup, their aroma utterly delectable.

Originally, he hadn't planned to make anything for Phainon. He was a ghost and ghosts didn't need to eat. However, two days prior, he'd caught the creature nibbling at his leftovers, sampling only the tiniest morsels after Mydei had finished his meal.

It was peculiar how little he ate.

Mydeimos suspected the offer might please him. And, truth be told, he… wanted to do something for his new companion, too.

And Phainon was… genuinely delighted?

Though it flickered briefly, Mydeimos caught the fleeting look of surprise and hesitation on the other's face before it was swept away by a radiant, ear-to-ear grin.

"Yes."

It was as if a thousand soft pink flowers burst into bloom around him. Cheerfully, he settled into the chair across from Mydei, who quietly stabbed his fork into a fluffy, golden pancake, letting the rich maple syrup swirl with each motion. In the quiet morning stillness, he stole a glance at the white-haired ghost beside him.

Phainon looked comically oversized for the chair. His heavy white coat had been discarded and tossed somewhere out of sight, leaving only a fitted black shirt that clung to his frame. Mydei's gaze couldn't help but linger, tracing the lines from his ribs downward.

What kind of specter had a physique this sculpted? Damn it, what was he even thinking?

He'd half-expected Phainon would immediately dive into the food like some wild animal. But surprisingly, that wasn't the case.

The ghost stared at the pancakes without reaching for his utensils.

Mydeimos frowned, puzzled, and after a moment's pause, asked softly, "Hey… Is it not to your taste?"

Phainon flinched.

He actually flinched.

His gaze snapped to Mydei, and even through the stark white of his features, Mydei glimpsed a fleeting panic. Then, shaking his head vigorously, Phainon plastered on that same goofy, contented expression.

"No...It. Good."

He declared it delicious without even taking a bite.

Only then did the white-haired ghost dig in with enthusiasm. Yet, contrary to his expectations, Phainon ate slowly, almost methodically, chewing each bite with care before swallowing with a heavy gulp. His pace was so leisurely that by the time Mydeimos had polished off his plate, Phainon was still working through half his portion.

A glance at the wall clock jolted Mydei. Time to go. He swiftly grabbed his meticulously packed lunchbox, slung his bag over his shoulder, and prepared to head to school.

Before leaving, he paused, tossing a half-serious instruction over his shoulder.

"If you're staying here… fine. Just please don't cause any trouble while I'm gone. I'll be back this afternoon."

The white-haired ghost offered him a faint smile. One that, if he had to describe, it felt just a little too forced.

"All. Right. Then. Dei…"

As the student turned to leave, the familiar weight of his house key in his pocket reminded him of something important. He called back to Phainon, who was still sitting at the table.

"I'm locking the door, okay? If you want to go out, you can still phase through the walls, right?!"

Phainon's low, cheerful voice responded from the kitchen.

"Of. Course. Me. Can!"

The whole thing made Mydeimos feel like some elderly parent leaving their kid home alone for the first time. Saying he wasn't worried would've been a lie. Still, surely this ghost—this man—had once been an adult before dying, right?

Everything would be fine.

Clinging to that conviction, he set off for school.

The door shut with a soft click, the lock turning behind him. Silence swept through the house like a slow tide.

Phainon stood up almost immediately. Half a plate of syrup-soaked pancakes still sat untouched on the table behind him. Without sparing it a glance, he turned and glided swiftly into the kitchen, heading straight for the sink. His movements were too smooth, too hurried.

He reached the counter and braced both hands against the edges of the basin, leaning forward sharply. His body tensed, trembling ever so slightly, as though he were holding something back with sheer force of will. Something was terribly wrong. His head dipped low, forehead nearly brushing the sink's rim.

How strange. Phainon had trained for this, hadn't he? He'd worked so hard to adapt…

But this—this was the first time in what felt like ages that he'd eaten so much at once.

After enduring wave after wave of rising nausea, the Adam's apple in his throat bobbed faintly. He forced a swallow, suppressing the urge. His stomach churned in protest, a unplaceable, vile, metallic tang flooding his throat. To him, human food was a nightmare made manifest. It carried the rancid taste of decaying flesh, the repugnant bitterness of writhing insects, the sharp, bloody bite of iron.

Don't throw up. Don't throw up.

Phainon's fingers slowly uncurled, loosening their white-knuckled grip.

The food Dei had made...it had taken so much for him to even get a taste of it.

So he couldn't throw up.

It took him a while before he could bring himself to return to the dining table. He eased himself back into his seat, eyes settling on the remaining half of the pancake that still sat on his plate.

To anyone else, the meal would've been considered exquisite. More importantly, it was something lovingly prepared by his human.

And because it was from Mydei, he liked it.

Phainon reached for the fork again.

-

"I'm doomed…"

That was the only thought Mydeimos could muster.

Despite his efforts to catch up on coursework at home, facing a math test brimming with entirely new material was a daunting ordeal.

As the cursed numbers swam before his eyes, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret for having missed class.

Still, he was doing his best. And, honestly, it was kind of a blessing in disguise that the entire surprise test was multiple choice. A bit of lucky guessing wouldn't hurt, right?

The derivatives section wasn't too bad, he could handle that.

Geometry, however, was an entirely different beast. Calculating the angle between two planes or tackling dihedral angles was maddeningly time-consuming.

"Everyone, keep it down. I need to step out for a moment."

A deep voice cut cleanly through his spiraling thoughts. It was professor Anaxagoras, their Math teacher, standing up as he closed his laptop with a soft snap.

"Class rep, once everyone's finished, collect the tests and submit them to the faculty office for me."

Castorice, the class vice-president, responded with a polite 'Yes, professor.' before ducking her head back to her test. The professor, with his shoulder-length mint-green hair loosely tied and that peculiar single eyepatch, strode out of the classroom with all the nonchalance of someone who had no intention of monitoring the exam.

And for good reason, none of the students dared to cheat.

The last time a similar incident occurred, Mr. Anaxagoras had reviewed footage from the classroom's discreetly placed camera, catching every student who'd dared to collaborate. The consequences had been severe, a lesson etched into the class's collective memory.

At this point, survival depended on individual grit.

As Professor Anaxagoras approached the door, he raised a hand to open it only for the door to swing inward on its own.

The anomaly drew the eyes of nearly every student in the room.

Mydeimos did too, and the moment his eyes landed on what had just entered, his 'fragile' heart felt like it stopped dead for the second time that morning. He nearly gasped aloud, but caught himself just in time, slapping a hand over his own mouth.

'Stay calm,' he told himself in a quiet internal scream. 'Remember the cashier at that convenience store, deep breaths, Mydei. No one else can see him.'

Phainon.

Phainon was in his classroom. Right now.

Anaxagoras frowned, steadying himself against the doorframe. He inspected both sides of the door, finding nothing amiss, utterly unaware of the two-meter-tall specter looming directly in front of him.

Mydeimos gnawed anxiously on his pen, his nerves fraying. Good grief, look at him. Phainon, with infuriating audacity, was bending down, playfully waving a hand in front of the professor's face. How many heart attacks was this man planning to give him today?!

"Odd…"

Thankfully, Anaxagoras merely muttered under his breath before passing through Phainon and exiting the room.

No one in the class seemed to suspect a thing.

Mydeimos, meanwhile, was seized by the urge to grab Phainon by the collar and shake some sense into him. What was he thinking, showing up at school—

And just like that, he vanished.

Where did he go?

Mydei's eyes flicked around the classroom. Everyone else was still deeply focused on their exams. No trace of him in the hallway. Not at the podium. Not even beyond the window. It was as if Phainon had dissolved into thin air.

Mydei tightened his grip on his pen, forcing his attention back to the paper in front of him. Confusion tangled with unease in his chest.

Right. Focus on the exam.

His desk was a dull brownish-yellow, made of old, scuffed wood. His pencil case sat atop it, half-unzipped, its contents scattered lazily across the surface. The test paper stretched out in front of him, mostly blank.

He cursed under his breath. Phainon's sudden intrusion had thrown him completely off track and cost him precious time. At this rate, he was staring down the barrel of a failing grade.

From the corner of his eye, a pale hand pressed against the desk.

Before he could react, the one he was looking for reappeared behind him, his voice low and steady as it brushed against Mydei's ear.

"No worry...me help you."

If specters cast shadows, Phainon's would have engulfed his desk entirely. The white-haired spirit leaned in, enclosing the smaller human in a cage of solid arms braced on either side of the desk. Mydei's back was pressed against his firm chest, there was no mistaking the intention.

He wasn't letting him go.

Yet, the student with the vibrant orange-gold hair remained remarkably composed.

Sure, this was cheating but didn't every student bend the rules at least once? He'd make up for it later, Mydei promised himself, vowing to study harder for the next test.

For now, survival was the priority.

His pen began to dance across the multiple-choice answers, guided by the cold, deliberate movements of Phainon's finger.

In exactly five minutes, the test was complete.

Mydei stared at the fully answered sheet, dumbfounded.

Phainon is… this good at math?

Apparently, he couldn't even outdo a ghost–at least when it came to math.

A certain someone's presence still lingered behind him, Mydei could feel it, undeniably so. There was no need to turn around. Instead, he picked up his pen and scribbled a small line onto the corner of his scratch paper:

'Thank you.'

The ghost's pale hand drifted down and tapped twice on the word in silent approval. Then, with a boyish eagerness, he flashed a thumbs-up that radiated delight.

The snowy-haired ghost was so pleased.

He hesitated for a moment before penning a follow-up: 'Is there anything I can do for you?'

As soon as the words entered a certain ghost's view, despite the white medical band that obscured his eyes, he responded without missing a beat.

Phainon wrapped his arms tightly around his human from behind.

Well, that was enough to answer.

Mydei let him stay.

The bell rang sharply, marking the end of the surprise test.

It was only the beginning of the morning block, and Mydeimos found himself wondering just how he was going to survive the rest of the day with a ghost glued to his side.

Chapter Text

Hà y (n) is a red garment, brilliant and beautiful like the color of the evening glow.

-

The solemn student stared intently into thin air. His expression was so grave that a few passing classmates slowed down, stealing glances his way, half-expecting something unseen lurking nearby.

As it turned out, there was absolutely nothing there.

Or so they thought.

Mydei couldn't help but let out a tiny, secret sigh of relief.

Nothing, except for the huge ghost hovering a breath away from him, of course.

"…"

Under his weary, almost resentful gaze, Phainon beamed back at him, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Dei?"

The ghost sat patiently, waiting with hopeful, starry-eyed for his beloved human to speak, to spare him even a sliver of attention. Inside his head, countless bright, sparkly fantasies played out. Maybe Mydei was staring at him because he thought Phainon was handsome? Maybe he was about to praise him for helping out during the surprise quiz earlier?

Meanwhile, the object of his affection was mentally begging for this day to end as quickly as humanly possible.

Morning classes had finally wrapped up. The lunch bell had rung, releasing the school into a mass exodus toward the cafeteria. Most students were already out of the classroom, their laughter echoing down the halls. Only Mydei remained seated at his desk, unmoving.

He glanced around, making absolutely sure no one was within earshot before finally daring to mutter under his breath.

"Phainon, next time you really should stay home. You can't just… follow me all the way to school like this."

Phainon, who had been sitting cross-legged quite comfortably on the wooden floor, gazing up at Mydei like he hung the stars, blinked. It took him a moment to realize he was being scolded.

The ghost's shoulders sagged in visible dismay. He'd genuinely thought he was going to be praised!

But… but he didn't want to be left alone at home. That was boring. Really boring.

Mulling over this tragic thought, Phainon tried to argue his case, voice pitiful.

"Because me missed Dei."

The student could only sigh, resigned.

This ridiculous ghost, whom he'd reluctantly agreed to let crash at his place for a few days, had gotten alarmingly clingy. When Mydeimos finally had to head to school, Phainon had lasted mere hours before trailing after him.

"But I just don't know what kind of trouble you'd get into if I let you follow me—"

The rest of Mydei's words faltered and died in his throat when Phainon pulled the most pitiful face he'd ever seen. He now resembled an oversized white puppy being reprimanded by its owner.

It hit him square in the heart with guilt.

Mydeimos cleared his throat awkwardly, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks as he glanced off to the side, refusing to meet the ghost's expectant gaze.

"Fine. I'll reconsider."

"So… stop looking so miserable, alright?"

Phainon immediately brightened, throwing his arms around Mydei's leg with a grin so wide it could have outshone the sun. The sight was still a little terrifying, honestly, but Mydei had gotten used to it by now. Right this moment, he simply wished he had a pair of sunglasses to shield himself from the blinding brightness of that smile.

It was almost suspicious how fast this ghost's mood shifted. Mydei wasn't entirely sure he wasn't being emotionally manipulated.

He glanced down at the hulking ghost, who was nuzzling against his knees with unabashed affection.

...Well, maybe not.

"Alright, let go of my leg already. Let's go grab some lunch, yeah?"

At his beloved human's request, the white-haired specter complied with startling enthusiasm.

"Agreed!"

Despite his enthusiastic reply, Phainon's arms remained stubbornly wrapped around Mydei's leg, clinging even tighter, encircling the human's lower thigh as if he were anchoring himself there.

As a wandering spirit, he harbored a desperate wish to stay by Mydeimos' side, longer and longer still.

Forever, and then some.

Last time... they hadn't been given that chance.

Without warning, the ghost tightened his embrace, squeezing Mydei's leg just a little more. Confused, he rapped his knuckles lightly against Phainon's forehead.

"Phainon?"

"Mm. Dei."

Recognizing the cue, the ghost finally, reluctantly, loosened his grip and let him go.

But he barely stayed apart for a moment before pushing himself up to stand. Rising to his full, intimidating height, he leaned down and extended his hand, palm open.

"Let's go."

Mydeimos placed his smaller, warmer hand into the large, cold one without hesitation.

And in that simple act, Phainon felt truly happy.

-

In some distant timeline, the seat beneath Mydeimos was likely not the mundane wooden chair of a schoolhouse.

Perhaps it had once been a throne, sculpted from blood-red crystal.

Legend holds that on that day, in that month, each year...If a calendar could still be trusted in a world utterly shattered, the Deliverer of Amphoreus would drive his greatsword into the earth and kneel at the foot of that throne, a solemn tribute to someone lost.

Always at the ruby-hued steps, never upon the throne itself.

He would rest his head against the lap of the one seated above.

"I miss you."

Even after all this time, that figure remained as breathtaking as the first day. The body of an immortal, even in death, endured pristine, untouched by the passage of a decade.

Or perhaps he no longer recalled how much time had elapsed.

In the end, the promise of a new era had been a cruel lie.

The Black Tide's relentless surge consumed the mortal realm, seeping into every inch of soil, corrupting every drop of water, and toppling all that once stood. The sole survivor to witness the dawn of Era Nova, a prisoner of the desolate bastion called 'Amphoreus,' was the last entity left standing.

Yet, miraculously, the throne of Castrum Kremnos remained unsullied.

Though ruined, it was achingly beautiful.

How fortunate, then, that the motionless, cold, forever still love of his life remained by his side. Oh, but he was far from sane.

With eyes of molten gold shuttered, he pressed his cheek against that frigid skin.

He had met his beloved in an era of upheaval, where dawn bled swiftly into dusk. Though he knew their love could not last forever, he sought the eternity within it.

That alone was enough. Phainon was content.

The Black Tide continued its inexorable rise.

-

From that moment until the end of the school day, Phainon seemed to have transformed into a giant, fluffy white ball of fur.

Concerned that someone might actually spot him (despite no one truly being able to), Mydeimos had insisted on a solution.

Thus, the ghost simply curled up beneath his desk.

It was a ludicrous sight, considering Phainon's absurd height and broad frame. Despite all of that, if Mydei recalled correctly from the first day they met, the white-haired ghost had joints far more flexible than any human's. Somehow, against all logic, he managed to fold himself neatly under the desk.

While he focused intently on taking notes, diligently following the lesson, the ghost, without a care in the world, sat underneath and toyed mindlessly with the laces of his shoes.

It wasn't until Mydei finally glanced down that he realized both his shoelaces had been tied together and Phainon was gazing up at him with the most innocent expression imaginable.

Strangely enough, Mydeimos didn't feel annoyed. In fact, he almost found it...endearing.

Classes passed peacefully after that. Before long, the final bell rang, signaling the end of the day.

As the student packed his things into his bag, Phainon loomed close, peering curiously at the contents. The bag did seem a little heavy... Wasn't it a bit much for his human to carry? With that simple, sincere thought, he offered.

"Let. Me. Carry. You. Home?"

The human in question turned to him, mouth parting slightly in astonishment.

"N-no. Of course not!"

Phainon looked thoroughly crestfallen.

It was only then that Mydei began to realize that their relationship was accelerating far too quickly! Phainon, once given an inch, was determined to take the whole mile. The ghost had developed the alarming habit of climbing into bed with him at night, hugging him whenever he was free, and now wanting to carry him home.

Was this ghost just obsessed with cuddling?

"You can't just carry me home like that," He sighed, before adding reluctantly, "But... hugging for a bit is fine."

Phainon's disappointment evaporated immediately. His hunch had been spot-on.

What followed was entirely predictable: Mydeimos was enveloped so thoroughly he practically disappeared. Each time the ghost pulled this stunt, the student's pride bristled. Phainon was simply too tall, too massive, it was outrageously unfair.

They made their way down the staircase together.

To the casual observer, his hand merely rested innocently by his side, nothing remotely suspicious about it. Yet, unbeknownst to everyone else, that very hand was being firmly held by the pale, cool hand of a ghost.

The student tried to ignore it, but a restless, fluttery feeling swirled in his chest, as if a thousand butterflies had taken flight within him. His thoughts began to spiral into chaos once again.

Hugging, holding hands, sleeping together... What were they even supposed to be?! This was a ghost, for heaven's sake! He was a being who had long since departed the mortal coil!

His face flushed a deep crimson.

However he couldn't bring himself to refuse these gestures, nor did they grate on him.

Oh no. Did he have a thing for... this kind of situation? If he had to be brutally honest—

He glanced up, only to be greeted by another wide, beaming smile from Phainon.

—well, this ghost was admittedly very handsome.

And he was good to him, too. Always ready to lend a hand when needed, always staying by his side no matter where or when, even nursing him through sickness without a second thought.

Phainon had no real reason to do any of that.

Developing feelings for a supernatural being... Mydei thought he must be completely, hopelessly insane.

The ghost trailed after him as they exited the school building and crossed into the parking lot. Meanwhile, his mind raced. How was he even supposed to take Phainon home? Technically, the ghost could float around just fine on his own, couldn't he?

"Senior Mydeimos!"

A feminine voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Turning, Mydeimos recognized one of the underclassmen. He was adept at handling situations like these, and this was unmistakably another confession scenario.

"Hm?"

At school, he kept most at arm's length, yet he'd amassed a surprising legion of admirers. Naturally, they all adored him from afar, too intimidated to approach the enigmatic 'prince' for anything more intimate.

There were plenty of girls like this—taking a gamble, hoping to snag a wealthy boyfriend.

Mydei sighed inwardly.

The schoolgirl standing before him seemed bolder than most he had encountered. With her bright blonde hair and a white-and-orange sports jacket casually draped over her shoulders, she crossed her arms and declared loudly.

"I like you."

Just as he had expected.

There was no stir of emotion within him at her empty words. He couldn't fathom why so many at school confessed their feelings to someone they barely knew. To him, this was mere admiration, far removed from anything resembling love.

He mentally prepared a polite rejection, lips parting to speak, when the air suddenly thickened, turning frigid as if winter had descended in an instant.

A hand settled on his waist.

Phainon.

Instinctively, Mydei glanced over his shoulder, only to find Phainon's face twisted in a menacing scowl. Never...never before had he seen such a look on the ghost's usually sunny features. The large hand at his waist squeezed slightly, the touch entirely different from the gentle embraces they normally shared.

Mydeimos silently prayed that the specter wouldn't be reckless enough to manifest fully.

"So, what's your answer, Senior?" The girl pressed.

Noticing Mydeimos's hesitation was unlike the curt rejections he'd delivered to others, she mistook it for an opening and pressed her advantage. The underclassman flashed a coy smile, leaning forward brazenly, invading his personal space without hesitation. Her fingers grazed his chin, tilting it upward slightly.

"I really like you."

She was far, far too close.

Mydeimos's face twisted in discomfort.

"Back off. First, I appreciate your—"

As he attempted to step back, he collided with an unyielding barrier. His back pressed against a solid chest. One arm encircled his waist, possessive and unrelenting, while another hand slid across his throat, pulling him flush against the figure behind.

Phainon had clearly abandoned all pretense of restraint.

The underclassman's expression morphed into a blend of shock and terror. Mydeimos felt his heart plummet, cold sweat prickling beneath his shirt.

The white-haired ghost rested his chin on Mydei's shoulder, his voice low.

"Mine."

Had Phainon not been wearing his usual blindfold, the sheer fury in his glare might have very well turned deadly. The malevolence radiating from him now was palpable, reminiscent of true horror stories, the kind where spirits did far worse than merely haunt.

"Phainon!"

Damn it! Mydeimos had blurted his name aloud. Worse still, the girl's attention had shifted entirely from him. Her gaze fixed on something above his head.

She'd seen him.

Phainon had manifested.

Her face drained of all color as she stumbled backward, and without another word, she turned on her heel and bolted from the scene.

Everything was now an unmitigated disaster.

-

Phainon was deeply, profoundly remorseful.

"Dei…"

From the school gates all the way back to their house, Mydeimos hadn't uttered a single word to him.

From the school to their home, Mydeimos hadn't spared him a single word. Upon reaching the house, he slammed the door shut. Though, for a ghost like Phainon, passing through walls was child's play.

His human was furious.

The ghost trailed behind him meekly, like a scolded puppy, all the way to the door of Mydei's private room.

It was only then that the human finally turned around, his eyes cold and cutting.

"Don't you dare come in."

The corners of a certain white-haired man's mouth twisted downward, his expression shimmering with a sorrowful, pitiful gloss. The towering figure standing an imposing two meters and thirty centimeters tall was hunched over, clutching the hem of his inner shirt like a guilty child. He shook his head frantically.

"No, please. Sorry. Dei."

Perhaps Mydeimos might have softened at Phainon's earnest, plaintive apology had his anger not still simmered. Think about it: the ghost had materialized in public. Worse yet, there had been a handful of students scattered nearby. If that girl ran her mouth and the rumors spiraled out of control, what would become of his normal school life?

Mydeimos, possessed by a ghost?

What if things took a turn for the worse and the incident went viral, showing up all over confession pages on the internet? There was even a slim chance his mother might hear about it.

Mydeimos knew he was overthinking, but—

"I thought I could get through today in peace… but you've ruined it."

Phainon flinched at the words, his lips pressing into a tight line.

The more Mydeimos dwelled on it, the more his frustration surged. For the first time, he raised his voice, jabbing a finger at the startled specter's face.

"You. Get out of my sight."

Phainon didn't react. He couldn't move from where he stood, even as the door slammed shut with a final, deafening thud.

For a long, long time afterward, he simply stood there, staring blankly at the honey-colored grain of the wooden door.

Then, almost hesitantly, he lifted a hand and pressed it flat against the surface, as if silently pleading for something—anything.

That was the reality. Mydeimos was just a perfectly ordinary human being. He had always been wary of allowing a ghost, a fundamentally dangerous existence, to trail after him. Phainon wasn't human. And because of that, the way Mydei treated him could never quite be the same.

Whenever Phainon became a burden, whenever he crossed a line, he instinctively recoiled, shrinking away from him. And who could blame him? That was the natural reaction any human would have when confronted with something so beyond their understanding.

"…"

All Mydeimos craved now was a normal life, untainted by supernatural interference.

And so, he'd demanded Phainon leave.

However, Phainon was no ordinary ghost.

He silently placed a hand over his chest, rubbing the spot lightly, as though trying to soothe the sensation of shattered glass scraping inside his ribcage.

Then, he turned away.

And sat down quietly next to the front door.

—

That night, he didn't leave his room. Feeling under the weather, he simply nibbled on a few packaged sweets he kept on hand, drank a bit of milk, prepared his lesson materials, and went straight to sleep.

Dismissals at his school usually ended at 4:45 p.m.

They had arrived home that day at 5:10 p.m.

Mydeimos would usually wake up around 5:30 a.m.

It wasn't until the following morning that Mydeimos realized Phainon had been sitting there, knees drawn up to his chest, patiently waiting outside his door for twelve hours and twenty minutes straight, without moving an inch.

Chapter Text

Sơ tình (n) can be understood as 'the break of dawn' or 'the first light of the sun', referring to the moment when the sky first brightens or when the new sunlight just begins to shine.

-

The night he kicked Phainon out, Mydei couldn't sleep.

To be honest, he'd been terrified.

From the moment they first encountered each other, he struggled to accept that the pale-haired figure...something that seemed to belong only in urban legends or horror tales actually existed.

Of course, creatures born of fiction were often vengeful, harbingers of misfortune, or outright predators of humanity. They haunted, tormented, or slaughtered, feeding on fear or blood. That was the collective human perception of demons and specters.

So, what set Phainon apart from such malevolent archetypes?

Mydei was still unraveling that enigma. What if this pale wraith was merely toying with him, biding its time before sinking its claws into his soul? Influenced by every eerie trope and chilling tale humans had ever created, he had always remained cautious, keeping the white-haired phantom at arm's length, never letting him too far past the boundaries of safety.

And then, the moment Phainon crossed that boundary once, just once and Mydei had cast him out, mercilessly.

Was that really the right thing to do?

In the dead of night, Mydei wrestled with his impulses. Half of him yearned to fling open the door and check if the ghost still lingered, the other half urged him to surrender to sleep, to quiet the storm in his mind. A sliver of dread wondered what Phainon might do after being commanded to leave for good. Exhausted by the relentless churn of his thoughts, he slipped into an uneasy slumber.

In the end, after too much thinking and not enough peace, exhaustion pulled him under.

At exactly 5:30 a.m., he finally woke up. He went through his usual routine. Washed up, got dressed, prepared for school. But even after an entire night had passed, Phainon still lingered in his thoughts. The ghost had always had a strange habit of sneaking into his bed at night, curling up beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world. There was that one time he had locked the door, only for him to slip into his room as effortlessly as a shadow.

But last night... Phainon hadn't done anything.

Maybe he really had left for good.

Then, the moment he stepped halfway out of his bedroom, he realized just how wrong he'd been.

"Dei! Dei…"

He froze at the threshold, eyes wide with shock.

Right beside the bedroom door, huddled on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest, was the ghost.

Phainon had been waiting there the entire night, like a loyal pup left outside in the cold. The moment Mydei stepped out, the ghost reached up with a pale, grayish hand and gently clutched the sleeve of his shirt. The movement made an audible crack like a jarring sound, like a brittle bone snapping.

'Wait. He has bones?' He thought.

Phainon blinked, looking slightly embarrassed by the noise his arm made but his focus never wavered.

All of his attention was fixed solely on his human.

Only Mydeimos truly understood the reason behind that sound.

Sitting for too long had stiffened the ghost's joints, and the abrupt movement caused the bones to creak audibly. Moreover, Phainon's sleeves had ridden up to his elbows. Stark red marks bloomed across his ghost-pale skin, the unmistakable traces of someone who'd hugged their knees too tightly, for far too long.

Mydei felt his heart drop to the floor.

Phainon had been sitting there, waiting for him, ever since yesterday.

He hadn't even tried to sneak into the room. He just sat there. Alone. Silently.

"…Why?" Mydei asked, his voice colder than he intended, laced with frustration, though it was mostly directed inward. "Why are you still here?"

He wanted to scold this stupid ghost for being so reckless. For being so unbearably self-sacrificing. But more than anything, he wanted to scream at himself for not opening the door in the middle of the night, for not checking, for leaving Phainon there like some abandoned thing.

With that familiar wide, gleeful smile, Phainon's 'eyes' met his.

"Me. Sorry."

Then the white-haired idiot began to explain, piecing together broken phrases with painful effort.

"Me. No. Need. Go. School…Anymore."

He spoke each word with slow, deliberate care.

"Me bad…Me punish me..."

His dear human couldn't move. Every word tore at him. He wanted to shout, to tell Phainon there was no reason he should suffer like this.

"Me. Will. Be. Good."

Stop it.

With those final fragmented words, Phainon reached out, clutching gently at the fabric of Mydei's sleeve. His head dipped forward slightly, messy white hair falling over his eyes. He looked just like someone trying to smile through heartbreak.

Then, softly, he whispered.

"Do. Not. Leave. Me."

Please, do not leave Phainon behind.

A stinging heat pricked at Mydei's eyes. At that moment, words deserted him entirely.

The specter swore he no longer needed to trail Mydeimos to school, vowing to behave and obey, admitting his faults with fervent sincerity. All he asked was that Mydeimos not abandon him to solitude.

The human bit his lip, a torrent of guilt crashing over him.

"Shut up."

Phainon flinched at the sharp command, his expression collapsing into one of genuine remorse and sorrow, the placating, artificial smile he'd worn moments ago vanishing entirely.

But that look of regret morphed into astonishment as the ghost realized his human had lunged forward, enveloping him in a fierce embrace.

This time, the initiative was entirely Mydei's. His voice trembled, thick with suppressed emotion, as though wrestling with something unspoken.

"Who permitted you to sit out here all night, huh? Couldn't you at least have found a way inside? You love doing that, don't you?"

Phainon, with patience and honesty so earnest it bordered on unbelievable, wilted as he replied, his tone soft and subdued. "Dei. No. Allow. Dei. Would. Hate. Me."

He hadn't dared to phase through the bedroom door. He was terrified Mydei would be furious, terrified of being hated.

"Stop talking." He snapped.

The ghost's pale hands settled gently on the small of Mydei's back, tracing soothing circles as the human clung to him even tighter. At last, he eased back slightly, his warm hands cupping Phainon's frigid cheeks. Amber eyes locked onto the stark white bandage obscuring the specter's gaze.

"I'm sorry, Phainon."

The white-haired ghost blinked, bewildered, his hands still resting lightly at Mydei's waist.

"You've done so much for me… and yet I let my overthinking and paranoia push you away, all because of baseless rumors that haven't even come to pass."

It was true—upon reflection, even if that underclassman girl spread tales of her senior being haunted, who would believe her? Even if someone had snapped a photo of the ghost materializing, it could easily be dismissed as a doctored image.

"I'm sorry."

He should have cherished Phainon more.

This was the being who'd carried him home through a raging storm, who'd bandaged his wounds, who'd tended to him during a fever, who'd patiently tutored him in math… Phainon had done things even his ordinary friends could never have managed.

In the end, whether he was a man or a ghost, Phainon was still Phainon.

The white-haired specter hesitated, then broke into a grin so wide and radiant it brimmed with unbridled joy.

In a sudden burst of exuberance, he slid his hands under Mydeimos' arms. The moment he stood, he hoisted the human up as effortlessly as one might lift a cat.

"Hey—!"

"Me. Happy!" Phainon exclaimed.

Someone ought to edit a backdrop of blooming pink flowers behind this ghost because his sheer elation was utterly uncontainable. Ignoring his half-hearted protests, the ghost swept his human into his arms and carried him downstairs to the kitchen. Mydei was running late for school, and Phainon was determined to help. He'd stay by his side forever! Of course, he had to do something for him!

Mydei let out a resigned sigh.

It seemed this would be his life now, today, and always.

-

After that incident, Phainon kept his word, he no longer accompanied Mydei to school. However, the student hadn't outright banned it; he'd simply set limits. On days when the ghost grew too restless or bored, he was allowed to come along… as long as he remained invisible.

But nighttime...that was when their more intimate human-and-ghost bonding activities took place (for lack of a better term). Let's just call it that, even if the whole thing was really just Mydei patiently guiding Phainon through the everyday rituals of human life.

Most of the ghost's curiosity, unsurprisingly, revolved around his precious human.

Like doing Mydei's hair, for instance.

With a horror movie flickering across the TV in a dimly lit living room, Mydei found himself forcibly seated on the ghost's lap while the ghost blow-dried his hair.

The sunset-haired teen had every intention of protesting but it was already far too late for that.

He had just stepped out of the bathroom when the sight hit him: the absurdly tall, white-haired ghost holding his tiny pink hairdryer, looking up at him with a pitiful expression so full of anticipation it bordered on heartbreaking.

Mydei didn't even need to ask what he wanted.

"Dei. Need. Dry. Hair?" Phainon had asked hopefully.

And with just a single nod and barely even a word in response, he suddenly found himself swept up and deposited onto Phainon's lap before he could voice a single objection. He hadn't even gotten the chance to say he could dry his own damn hair.

Which, of course, has led to the situation now.

He absentmindedly scrolled through his phone, opening the class group chat while the ghost diligently hovered the pink dryer over his head. In this day and age, class group chats were a staple, buzzing with updates about exam schedules or school events. Apparently, an English test was looming…

Mydei wanted to concentrate on the screen in front of him.

He really did.

But he couldn't.

"Phainon."

The ghost didn't pause, simply humming a distracted "Hm?" as he continued drying his hair.

The student gave up and pointed helplessly toward his waist.

"Could you not hold me there?"

Phainon, only using his right hand for the dryer, had his left hand firmly around his waist. With his large frame, it always felt like the smaller human might slip off his lap so the ghost instinctively kept a hand there to steady him. His hand was huge, ice-cold, with thick, long fingers that practically spanned half of Mydei's hip with ease.

"…Okay."

Uncertain where else to place his left hand, the white-haired ghost opted to drape his entire left arm around Mydei's hips, tugging him closer to facilitate his hair-drying efforts.

A flush immediately crept across his face. The audacity of this ghost!

"That's not what I meant." he protested, his voice tinged with flustered indignation.

Damn it, that cursed ticklishness of his was rearing its head again. No, he had to clamp his mouth shut. Don't laugh, don't laugh…

Mydei's hand, gripping his phone, trembled faintly. Had this towering, white-haired specter never learned the concept of personal space in life? He wasn't accustomed to being touched so intimately, especially not at such close quarters. And yet, here he was, nestled squarely on the lap of a ghost.

Phainon, visibly flustered, sported a telltale droop in the tuft of white hair atop his head, mirroring his inner turmoil.

Then, at that precise moment, a brilliantly ill-conceived idea sparked in his mind.

His left hand wandered upward, settling on Mydei's left pectoral and giving it a brazen squeeze. There, now he had a place to rest his hand.

"Ah—!"

The human froze, stunned, his gaze dropping to the large, frigid hand shamelessly planted on his chest. Though he was undeniably male, that particular spot was unexpectedly soft, and Mydei hadn't realized until now that a squeeze would elicit a faint, unfamiliar pang of discomfort.

But it wasn't entirely unpleasant—oh, absolutely not. Stop that thought right there!

His face flushed a vivid crimson.

Mydei, predictably, leaped from Phainon's lap in an instant. Before the ghost could process what had transpired, a pillow sailed through the air, smacking him square in the face. By the time Phainon dislodged the cushion and switched off the hairdryer, he had already bolted, retreating to the sanctuary of his bedroom.

Thankfully, his hair was dry by then.

Whether through genuine naivety or deliberate mischief, Phainon seemed blissfully unaware of the chaos he'd caused, he still slipped into their bedroom that night, wrapping Mydei in his arms as they slept. To his relief, the human didn't push him away at all. To him, sometimes his human was as fragile as a porcelain egg, and he felt compelled to cradle him with utmost care.

-

"Phainon, grab the coffee filter for me."

The white-haired ghost effortlessly reached up to the highest kitchen shelf, retrieving the item and handing it to Mydei.

"And the bag of ground coffee too. It's on the very top shelf."

Phainon gave a cheerful nod and, using only one hand, pulled the heavy bag down without breaking a sweat.

This, after all, was one of the most useful functions of having a ghost like him around: his obnoxiously tall height, which turned out to be ridiculously practical.

Phainon's attire never changed. It was still a striking ensemble that resembled a knight's ceremonial garb, more suited to a masquerade than the modern era. No one in today's world would don such an outfit, leading Mydei to the obvious deduction that the ghost's time among the living lay far in the past. Maybe someday, he'd get around to asking him about it.

Curiously, despite Phainon's heavy boots treading through the house, the floors remained pristine, unmarred by even a speck of dirt. He chalked it up to one of the peculiar perks of being a ghost.

Separated by the kitchen counter, the specter watched with rapt attention as Mydei meticulously measured three or four spoonfuls of coffee grounds into the filter, gently shaking it to level the surface. Then, with practiced precision, he poured hot water over the grounds, warning the ghost not to touch it. The coffee would drip slowly, coalescing into a perfect cup. From there, they could add ice or milk to suit their tastes.

After setting the filter atop the mug, Mydei excused himself, likely to attend to some personal matter, leaving Phainon alone on a stool by the counter.

"…"

The white-haired ghost fixed his gaze on the coffee, mesmerized by each deliberate drip. Leaning forward slightly, he inhaled the bitter, earthy aroma wafting from the brew.

Strangely, it didn't repulse him. It bore none of the metallic tang of blood or the nauseating stench of decaying flesh.

Curiosity piqued, he extended a long, slender finger, prodding the mug experimentally. But his strength betrayed him, nearly toppling the cup to the floor. The towering ghost scrambled, his large hands darting to catch it. The scalding heat of the boiling water seared his spectral skin, but he paid it no mind. With one hand pressed against the blistering metal filter and the other steadying the mug's base, he restored it to its rightful place on the counter.

Not a single drop spilled. Phainon swelled with pride.

"I heard a noise. You alright?" Mydei's voice called out.

It took a moment for him to return. Apparently, he'd only meant to wash his hands, but the hand soap had run dry, forcing him to fetch a refill—a delay he hadn't anticipated.

"Fine." Phainon replied, nodding enthusiastically.

Then, the bandaged-eyed ghost gestured toward the mug, now brimming with freshly brewed coffee. Ever obedient, he'd waited for Mydei's return before daring to ask, far too principled to sneak a sip.

"Can. Me. Try?" he ventured, his tone laced with a puppy-like eagerness.

The other didn't respond immediately.

Phainon faltered, unnerved by the human's surprised expression. Was his face not endearing enough to sway him? Wait—no, by most standards, he probably wasn't considered 'cute' at all. Besides, it occurred to him that Mydei likely wanted the coffee for himself. He had no intention of stealing it.

Nodding hesitantly, Phainon opened his mouth to retract his request, ready to insist he didn't need to try the coffee after all. But before then, Mydeimos suddenly seized his wrist, lifting it into view.

"Phainon, why is this so red? You've burned yourself."

The coffee filter, forged from stainless steel or aluminum, conducted heat with ruthless efficiency. Phainon's pallid, almost translucent skin, far paler than any living person's only amplified the burn's vivid crimson, its angry spread stark against his flesh.

"No. Burn." the white-haired ghost mumbled, lips pursing in a petulant pout. If Mydei realized he'd nearly knocked over the coffee mug, he'd scold him for sure! No, that couldn't happen.

But when the teenager's amber gaze flicked to the mug on the counter, realization dawned. That was the only plausible explanation for the ghost's injury.

"You touched it?"

"…"

"You did, didn't you?"

The towering ghost gave a sheepish nod, his hulking frame shrinking with a faintly cowardly air. He dreaded incurring his human's wrath.

In one swift motion, Mydei tugged him toward the kitchen. Truthfully, Phainon had to cooperate, shuffling along to make his efforts easier. When they reached the sink, he still gripped the ghost's icy hands, guiding them under a stream of cool water.

"Next time you're hurt, you don't keep quiet about it. You tell me, understand?"

Phainon's attention wavered, captivated by the sight of Mydei's smaller hands gently massaging the reddened skin. They were… rather adorable, weren't they?

"Not hurt." Phainon whispered, his voice barely audible. And it was true.

His ability to interact physically with the human world came with its drawbacks. He could be injured, just as he could touch others. It was a reciprocal exchange. But pain? That was another matter.

The wounds across his eyes, the grievous scar on his chest, the countless marks from battles long past, now faded into scars—all had been eroded by the Black Tide. His sense of touch was no longer normal.

He was little more than a corpse now.

He considered himself incredibly lucky to still have the gift of speech, to hear the world around him, to savor the aromas that danced through the air, and to hold onto a hint of flavor on his tongue, though at times he wished his tongue would go numb entirely.

"Even if you don't feel pain, you can't exploit that carelessly." Mydei said, his hands still tenderly soothing the burn, though his tone was sharp, laced with unyielding resolve. His brows furrowed, and his voice softened to a near-whisper. "You might not hurt, but others will."

"So don't do it again."

At those words, a flicker of warmth stirred within Phainon's frigid form. The ghost, resembling nothing so much as an oversized, fluffy Samoyed in this imagined moment, broke into a wide, radiant grin. His bandaged eyes tilted downward, fixed on Mydei.

"No. Do. Again." he echoed, as if sealing a vow to himself.

Despite the torrential rain drumming outside, that day remained a joyful one.

Mydei dropped ice into the coffee, cooling it to perfection, and together they savored a sublime drink. Iced coffee in the rain—an unexpectedly delightful pairing, wouldn't you agree?

Phainon realized that he could still drink black coffee, no sugar, no milk, and not find it disgusting. The pure, raw flavor was just perfect. After that, he found himself asking his human to make him more and more often. Mydei just thought it was because, out of all the drinks the ghost could digest, this was the one he liked the most.

As for why Phainon could still taste the coffee so perfectly, even with his dulled senses? Well… who knew?

Chapter Text

'Dư huy' (n) can be understood as 'the afterglow of the setting sun.' Additionally, in classical literature, the term also refers to the lingering light of the moon or stars.

-

Phainon recalled the ferocity with which he had fought.

His molten golden eyes, once ablaze, now dimmed unmistakably, yet he never faltered, never ceased. The sun emblem seared into the skin of the white-haired youth's neck burned fiercer by the moment, as if it were a living entity, clawing to embed itself deeper, branding him with its relentless heat.

Phainon swung his greatsword. Once. Twice. Countless times.

The earth fractured beneath his onslaught, as though the very heart of the world buckled under the weight of such cataclysmic devastation. The sky, stripped of its azure vibrance, stretched endlessly in a bleak expanse of ashen gray, stained by the blood and smoke of a hundred unquenchable fires.

The Black Tide surged through the city like a ravenous beast, devouring every shred of light. It was no mere water but a viscous, obsidian ichor, slithering through streets, engulfing structures, memories, and those too slow to flee. The people who once thrived here were now little more than husks, half-submerged in the tar-like mire, their vacant eyes staring skyward, silently questioning why the apocalypse had descended so swiftly. That was before the abominations of the Black Tide arose, tearing through their flesh to birth monstrosities from their broken shells.

The only sounds left were the wail of wind shrieking through shattered windows, the groan of collapsing utility poles and in the distance, an eerie keening like a distorted hymn sung by the Tide itself. Creatures spawned from the darkness shuffled over corpses, their guttural growls belonging to no species of this world.

"…"

Phainon fought on, though he no longer knew what he fought for.

This world was already dead.

All the Chrysos Heirs, save for him, had perished.

There would be no Era Nova, for that was a lie.

Era Nova was merely another deception.

Phainon had no reason left to live. Even his Mydeimos was gone.

Mechanically, he raised his greatsword to the heavens. A cataclysmic nuke descended, obliterating every foe across the ravaged land. He watched, impassive, as the destruction he wrought consumed a world teetering on oblivion.

Destruction. That was precisely what it was.

He remembered placing his beloved upon the throne made of blood-red crystal. During the purification of Amphoreus, through the grueling 'training' he endured, Phainon visited Mydeimos or what remained of him each day.

Each time, he would sit and gaze for hours.

Now, those days were drawing to their inevitable end.

Amphoreus, in truth, was nothing more than a crucible of war forged by the Aeon of Destruction, a gilded cage woven by Nanook to nurture an Emanator destined to join the Antimatter Legion.

The sun emblem on his neck throbbed with pain once more.

And now, this bird would shatter its cage and soar free.

-

"Phainon."

The ghost with snow-white hair tightened his hold around Mydeimos.

"Phainon, can you wake up for a moment?"

This time, the ghost stirred slightly at last. His eyes were still covered by sterile white medical bandages, leaving the human unsure whether he had truly calmed down or not.

It was the dead of night, and this ghostly figure was clinging to him in sleep.

Mydei had grown accustomed to this ritual. He no longer offered commentary or complaints, simply yielding to the inevitability of it. Protesting changed nothing, after all. And, truth be told, the white-haired ghost had long since become an indispensable presence in his bed.

"Dei…"

Phainon's whisper was lower than usual, rough with a faint rasp and laced with unmistakable grievance. He burrowed his head into Mydei's chest, seeking solace like a wounded creature. The tousled strands of his snowy hair tickled his skin.

"Are you okay? You looked rough earlier."

Half an hour ago, Phainon's physical form had begun to fidget in his sleep. He shifted restlessly, though every position still involved enveloping Mydei in his arms. Then, his body temperature plummeted. The pleasant chill he usually exuded turned glacial, as if meant to freeze rather than comfort. That was why he had been roused in the first place.

More concerning still, Phainon had started clinging to him with desperate intensity, his grip tightening as if he meant to crush Mydei entirely. The human had tried to wriggle free, but the ghost's strength was absurdly formidable.

In the end, Mydei had no choice but to wake Phainon for the sake of his own waist's future.

"Sorry…"

The white-haired figure's voice carried genuine remorse for disrupting his human's sleep. His large hand gently rubbed the reddened marks on Mydei's hip, where his embrace had left its imprint.

Mydeimos, fighting the ticklish sensation, let out a soft sigh. Instinctively, he reached out to ruffle the snow-white hair.

"It's fine."

He hesitated before continuing, his voice soft but clear in the darkened room, where only the two of them existed.

"Phainon, did you have a nightmare?"

"…"

The ghost didn't respond, but he nuzzled closer to Mydei, pressing himself against him repeatedly. So, even ghosts could dream and suffer nightmares? That was a revelation.

Wordlessly, he placed a hand on the nape of Phainon's neck, stroking gently in a steady rhythm, hoping to soothe the enigmatic being. If the ghost were to lose control, he couldn't predict the consequences. But more than that, he wanted to offer comfort.

"There, there. It's alright."

Phainon relaxed visibly, clearly savoring the touch.

For a moment, they seemed they might drift back to sleep like this. Then Mydei shivered.

The ghost's presence had caused the room's temperature to plummet.

"Can you warm up a bit? It's freezing."

The towering specter seemed flustered.

"No. Know. How..."

Mydei had anticipated that answer. With a resigned sigh, he reached for the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. A warm amber glow flared to life, momentarily dazzling him.

Fine. At the very least, he'd grab another blanket.

Mydeimos had always lived alone. His bed held a single blanket, a single pillow. Well, in recent days, it had also acquired an oversized body pillow branded 'Phainon', but that was beside the point. The lone blanket, meant for one, was woefully inadequate for a two-meter-thirty ghost and a one-meter-eighty human to share. Mydei figured if he fetched a separate blanket for Phainon, the ghost might stop chilling the room to arctic levels.

The 'spare' blanket, however, was ancient, likely something his mother had ordered when he was a child. If he recalled correctly, the delivery had been botched, the wrong design sent.

"Phainon, can you grab something from the top of the wardrobe?"

"Alright."

The ghost slid off the bed, his towering frame easily reaching the wardrobe's summit without so much as a stretch. The problem? The top was cluttered with old junk, and he had no clue what his human needed.

Phainon glanced down at Mydeimos, the white gauze over his eyes making his intentions inscrutable.

"What's—hold on, what the hell are you doing?!"

Those were the human's last words before the white-haired specter clamped both hands around his waist and hoisted him off the ground. His feet dangled, toes curling in momentary shock.

Phainon beamed with pride. Problem solved!

"…Hmph. Next time you pull that, warn me first."

Mydei regained his composure, though he inwardly cursed. This damn ghost was too tall. That Phainon could so effortlessly lift him made Mydei feel oddly diminutive, despite being broader than most. The air up here felt abnormally heavier, mostly because it was choked with dust.

Refocusing, Mydei covered his mouth with one hand to avoid inhaling the grime while the other rummaged through the stacks of forgotten relics. When he finally unearthed the old blanket, realization dawned.

"So this is it…"

He clutched the folded fabric and signaled Phainon to lower him.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure the specter would even use it.

Mydei hesitated, gripping the neatly folded blanket.

Phainon tilted his head, puzzled by what his human intended with this… thing.

What was his Mydeimos planning with a garish pink blanket emblazoned with Hello Kitty patterns?

His cheeks flushed. Damn it, he was embarrassed again. All because some delivery guy a decade ago had swapped a blue Doraemon blanket for this pink Hello Kitty monstrosity! His mother had meant to return it, but young Mydei, precocious enough, had insisted on keeping it to spare her the hassle.

And so, little Mydei had once slept beneath a Hello Kitty blanket.

"We don't need to share a blanket anymore. For comfort, you can use this—"

The moment Phainon heard 'not share a blanket,' his face crumpled into a pitiful, almost tearful pout.

"Dei, please…"

Mydei faltered under the weight of that puppy-dog expression. Utterly unfair.

"Just for tonight, alright? Your body's too cold. This is a fleece blanket I used to use."

He stared at the floor, mortified. As a kid, he'd actually liked the blanket. It was soft and cozy. His mother used to tease that he'd claw at it like a cat.

The ghost's expression froze.

This was… Mydei's blanket.

With sudden enthusiasm, he snatched it.

Under his stunned gaze, Phainon clambered back onto the bed, wrapped himself in the pink Hello Kitty fleece like a cocooned caterpillar, and looked downright delighted—despite his earlier pleas to share.

Somehow, the sight of a towering white-haired wraith swaddled in a pink cartoon blanket was absurdly hilarious.

Then Phainon spread his arms, inviting his human back to bed with a hopeful grin.

"Sleep. Sleep."

Mydei resigned and climbed in. Within a second, the snowy-haired ghost had enveloped him in a familiar embrace. Though they were technically using separate blankets, the two covers ended up tangled in a chaotic heap.

Fine. As long as it was warm, that was enough.

Before dreams reclaimed them, Mydei reached up and flicked off the bedside lamp.

Darkness crept in, but this time, it held no menace.

By morning, Phainon's body temperature had returned to its usual cool, soothing state.

-

Today, Mydei woke before Phainon.

It was an utterly bizarre occurrence.

He tried to sit up, only to realize he couldn't. Trapped in the ghost's unyielding embrace, he was pinned, sinking into the fortress of Phainon's arms.

Typically, Phainon rose at an ungodly hour. Whenever he stirred, he'd find the specter already awake, gleefully cuddling him and stalling their escape from bed. Yet now, the white-haired figure lay still, motionless.

He was, unmistakably, asleep.

So, ghosts did sleep. That settled it.

It was Saturday, and lingering in bed a little longer didn't sound half bad.

Mydei tilted his head, catching a glimpse of Phainon's striking features from an intimate angle. If he shifted just a bit, his hand could graze… the specter's abs.

What kind of ghost was this ripped?

Phainon wore only a snug black tank top, his outer jacket vanished to parts unknown. The low neckline revealed a golden parabolic tattoo arcing across his chest, mirrored by a strip of white gauze below it.

Mydei vaguely recalled their first encounter—Phainon had borne a massive wound on his chest, oozing golden blood. Now, it was bandaged, concealed.

Tentatively, he brushed his fingers over the ghost's left pec.

No heartbeat. Typical ghost.

A sudden urge to pinch him flared, payback for that pink hairdryer incident. But Phainon's chest was infuriatingly solid, chiseled to perfection. Were all grown men like this?

Something felt… off.

Unthinkingly, Mydei placed his other hand on his own chest. The texture was different from when Phainon had accidentally groped him once. His pecs were softer, with a faint, almost springy give… Why was that?

'Wait. What the hell am I doing?'

He clapped both hands over his face. This was absurd! Who would compare the softness of pecs?

Peeking through his fingers, he confirmed Phainon was still out cold. Thank goodness.

That's when he noticed something else unusual. Reaching up, he gently brushed the ghost's snowy, tousled hair aside to keep it from poking the gauze over his eyes.

The bandage… had shifted.

The knot was slipping.

Mydei stared. The mysterious eye covering was loosening, revealing a sliver of inky darkness beneath. Phainon slept like the dead, oblivious to the wardrobe malfunction.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about what lay under that cloth. Phainon wore it 24/7, never removing it, yet somehow saw everything with uncanny clarity.

He wrestled with himself. Should he sneak a peek while he had the chance?

His hand hovered near a gap in the gauze. One tug and it would unravel.

He debated. Then debated some more.

'Forget it.'

He decided against it. If Phainon wasn't ready to share, Mydei wouldn't pry.

But before he could pull his hand back, a frigid grip seized his wrist. That familiar chill surged through his veins. The pale hand clamped down, unyielding.

"Good… morning, Phainon."

"Dei."

Phainon's voice carried none of the groggy warmth one might expect at dawn. Instead, it thrummed with a taut edge, sharp and strained.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he shifted on the bed, and the movement caused the white bandages swathing his eyes to slip, unraveling in a disheveled cascade. For a fleeting moment, Mydeimos glimpsed something beneath.

A void of inky black.

Phainon's hand shot up, clapping over his eyes with such force that made him flinch, half-convinced the white-haired ghost was punishing himself. In a blur of panic, he sat upright, turning his back to Mydei, his trembling hands fumbling to realign the tangled bandages.

"Phainon?" His dear human's voice was soft, laced with concern as he sat up, the pink Hello Kitty comforter sliding to one side in a forgotten heap.

A sharp snap cut through the air, like something delicate giving way.

In his frantic haste, Phainon had yanked too hard, and the white bandage tore. Shreds of fabric fluttered down, dusting his thighs and the bedsheets like fallen snow.

A low, mournful groan escaped the ghost's lips, heavy with quiet despair.

He pressed both large hands over his eyes, shielding them as he turned his face toward the corner of the bed, resolute in his refusal to let anyone, especially the one behind him see. To Mydeimos, the towering, white-haired demon looked for all the world like an oversized puppy sulking in shame.

Tentatively, Mydei reached out, his fingers brushing Phainon's back in a gentle tap. "Are you alright? Shall we change the bandages together? I'll help you."

Phainon shook his head vehemently, his white locks swaying with the motion.

"…No."

It was a rare refusal...one of the few times if not the first that the ghost had ever denied him. He faltered, uncertainty gnawing at him. What if Phainon was hiding something truly grave, bottling it up behind that stubborn facade?

His brows knitted together, a flicker of worry tightening his expression.

"Phainon, can you let me see? If you're hiding an injury again, it's not good for you."

His mind drifted to the time he'd fallen ill, when Phainon had crumpled into tears, blaming himself as the cause. Back then, the specter's sobs had produced a thick, golden liquid, its metallic tang unmistakable. He had known it for what it was: blood.

Phainon fell silent, his shoulders rigid. Then, another shake of his head, his face still turned resolutely away. When he finally spoke, his whispered words were nothing short of astonishing.

"Messy. Ugly. No."

His eyes widened, a spark of realization dawning. He'd always thought Phainon's confidence was unshakable, his demeanor too brazen for shame. Yet here he was, terrified that Mydei would recoil at the sight of him, deeming him unsightly.

A soft sigh escaped his lips.

"It's alright," he murmured, his tone unusually warm and reassuring. "Let me rebandage it for you. I'd never think you're ugly, Phainon. I promise."

Silence stretched between them, Phainon's obstinacy holding firm. He knew he'd have to resort to bribery.

"I'll make you a cup of coffee," he offered.

Phainon's broad shoulders twitched, but he didn't turn.

"Fine. Two cups?"

Mydei caught the faintest shift in Phainon's posture, as though he were fighting the urge to relent. A chuckle bubbled up in his throat. For all his hulking presence, this ghost could be endearingly childish at times.

Time to play his trump card.

"How about a two-liter jug of coffee—"

Before he could finish, Phainon whipped around, his lips pursed in a petulant pout, hands still shielding his eyes as he faced him at last.

The human's lips curved into a triumphant smirk. He knew that would work.

"Alright, stay put."

With that, he ose to retrieve the white bandages from the first aid kit stashed in the room. As he opened it, he found the contents in disarray, a chaotic jumble that hinted at frequent use. A strange weight settled in his chest.

What in the world had happened to Phainon?

Lost in troubled thoughts, he grabbed a pristine roll of bandages and climbed back onto the bed. His amber eyes fixed on Phainon's face, steady and unwavering.

"Lower your hands, Phainon."

Phainon hesitated, reluctance etched in every line of his body.

But… coffee.

Coffee was divine, his one true weakness.

Yet he felt so unsightly…

Slowly, his fingers began to slip away from the eyes he'd so desperately concealed. His hands fell, and with them, every barrier crumbled. Like a gate swinging open, the sight stole his breath.

"What the hell…"

The worst scenario Mydei had imagined was that the ghost's eye sockets might be empty, hollow voids.

But this was far worse.

Phainon's eyes...or where they should have been were gone in the most literal sense.

At first glance, he couldn't even fathom the cause of such a horrific wound.

Another soft, desolate whimper escaped Phainon's lips.

Where eyes and skin should have been, there was nothing but a jagged, obsidian fracture. It gaped, deep and endless, with thin, spiderweb-like cracks radiating outward, splintering into the bone of his face and slicing across his porcelain-pale skin.

It resembled a shattered marble bust, or perhaps a phone screen dropped from a great height. He couldn't decide.

And yet… this didn't make Phainon any less striking.

For reasons he couldn't quite articulate, Mydei found not a trace of ugliness in him.

Leaning forward, he began to wrap the fresh, clean bandage across the fractured expanse of Phainon's face. The towering ghost froze, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as though he'd expected his human to recoil or remark on the ghastly wound.

That was only Phainon's fear of speaking.

First loop of the bandage.

"Phainon, this isn't ugly in the slightest. I mean it."

Second loop.

"..You're beautiful."

Third loop.

"I'm so glad you trusted me enough to let me see this."

The act felt like peering into the ghost's very soul. In a way, it was… intimate. Mydeimos couldn't shake the sense that this ghost had endured more than his share of suffering.

It was almost laughable how Phainon, who turned into a blubbering mess the moment anything happened to Mydei, was now the one fighting to hold back tears, those golden droplets of blood-like ichor he refused to let fall.

Perhaps he didn't want to sully the pristine bandages.

Once the human finished securing the bandage with neat precision, he cupped Phainon's face in both hands. The ghost's height made it a bit awkward, but Mydei didn't care.

"Dei… what you do...?" Phainon's voice was a low murmur, his hands instinctively settling on the human's waist.

The teenager with the sunset-hued hair gazed at him for a long moment before leaning in, just close enough to blow a soft puff of air against the fresh bandages. Wound or scar, it didn't matter. His mother used to do this when he was a child, a small gesture to soothe his hurts.

He hoped it might calm this foolish ghost, even just a little.

Phainon shuddered, frozen in place, his mouth forming a perfect 'O' of shock. Good heavens, he was under attack by a human half his size! Phainon was on the verge of combusting. Suddenly, the tantalizing promise of a two-liter jug of coffee vanished into the ether, utterly forgotten.

How could two liters of coffee possibly compare to the sensation of Mydei's breath ghosting across Phainon's bandaged eyes?

And then, as if to deliver the final, knockout blow, Mydei leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Phainon's forehead.

The white-haired's world ground to a halt.

He combusted.

His human...his Mydeimos had just k-k-kissed him!

Mydei had kissed him!

And he'd done it willingly!

...Didn't he realize the weight of such a gesture?

Oblivious to the seismic shift he'd caused, Mydei, ever convinced he'd simply offered comfort as his mother once did, slid off the bed with a carefree stretch. A gentle smile curved his lips as he spoke.

"Alright, time to make that coffee. Don't worry, I keep my promises."

With that, he sauntered out of the room, leaving behind a Phainon still grappling with the cataclysm that had just unfolded. The white-haired demon reached up, his fingers brushing the spot on his forehead where Mydei's lips had lingered. For the first time, a vivid flush bloomed across his pallid face. A ghost, blushing. Proof even they could feel bashful.

He then grinned like an utter fool.

So… they were married now, weren't they?

-

Meanwhile, Mydeimos, blissfully unaware of the havoc he'd wrought, calmly set about brewing the coffee Phainon adored. Two liters, though? Wasn't that a bit excessive?

He had no idea that the days ahead would be a whirlwind of chaos.

-

In ancient spiritual traditions, a kiss on the forehead is revered as a sacred act, often woven into rites of initiation or ceremonies to awaken latent spiritual power. The forehead's center, known as the 'third eye,' holds profound significance, lying just before the pineal gland. Philosopher René Descartes dubbed this gland the "principal seat of the soul," believing it to be the nexus where perceptions merge and thoughts take shape. —Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

The pineal gland is also tied to intuition and clarity. Some studies suggest it may produce dimethyltryptamine (DMT), a chemical Dr. Rick Strassman calls the 'spirit molecule' for its role in releasing emotional trauma and dismantling outdated patterns.

So, what does a kiss on the forehead signify in this context?

When bestowed with love or a blessing intent, such a kiss is believed to activate the pineal gland. Beyond a mere expression of affection, it forges a soul-deep connection, stirring the recipient's inner strength, intuition, and sense of purpose. It can dissolve fears, empowering one to live authentically. Moreover, it strengthens bonds, as love-related hormones are produced in the brain's central glands.

Science offers this explanation, but the act of kissing the forehead echoes through ancient spiritual practices.

In the realm of ghosts, however, such a kiss carries an even weightier implication. It's tantamount to a marriage proposal.

And once that vow is made, the human is bound to the ghost… forever.

Chapter Text

Duật vân (n) means a cloud of three colors, symbolizing an auspicious cloud and representing good omens.

-

The days that followed turned out to be… rather strange.

And by 'strange,' Mydeimos was, of course, referring to the ghost named Phainon.

Lately, Phainon had been making a noticeable effort to improve his grasp of human language. He had even begun to delve into a few films during the hours he spent alone at home. So when Mydei returned one afternoon and found several... romance DVDs scattered across the sofa, he was more than a little surprised.

The lanky, white-haired ghost with his absurdly extroverted, almost foolish demeanor… a fan of romance films? Truly, it was the last thing he had expected.

Contrary to his assumption that Phainon would have greedily guzzled the two liters of coffee he'd brewed, the ghost had instead rationed it, savoring it over multiple sittings. That said, 'rationed' was a generous term. The coffee still vanished in a mere day and a half, evaporating as if it had never existed. Mydei couldn't help but wonder if consuming such quantities might affect the ghost's health. Then again he was a ghost, wasn't he?

With a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind, Mydei pushed open the front door of his home.

"Phainon, I'm back—what in the world—?!"

A massive, soft, fluffy, and heavy cloud of white barreled toward him, enveloping him in an enthusiastic embrace. Caught off guard, Mydei dropped his schoolbag, scrambling to clutch at the ghost's neck to keep from being bowled over entirely.

Phainon's towering frame dwarfed Mydei's by a wide margin. Every time the ghost enveloped him in a hug, he felt like a diminutive mushroom swallowed whole by a billowing pile of white cotton.

"Dei. Glad. You're. Home!"

Today, the white-haired ghost seemed even more animated than usual. An almost frenetic energy was radiating from him. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but first…

"Phainon… I… can't… breathe."

At once, the two-meter-thirty ghost loosened his grip. One hand slid gently behind the poor human's back, stroking soothingly as if to apologize. His massive form could be such an inconvenience at times. In moments like these, Phainon almost wished he could shrink into a tiny, inconspicuous wisp, small enough for Mydei to carry around wherever he went.

The human let out a soft sigh, not out of annoyance, mind you.

"I'm fine now."

Phainon's icy fingers brushed against the strap of Mydei's schoolbag, a silent request to carry it to his room as he did every day. With permission granted, the ghost whisked the bag away, moving faster than a gust of wind. Faster than usual even. It was as if today, he was buzzing with an almost erratic energy, a restless exuberance that set him apart from his typical self.

"Hyperactive, huh…?"

Mydei mused to himself, slipping off his shoes.

He had barely taken a few steps into the living room when Phainon reappeared, his expression brimming with eager anticipation. In the mental lexicon of Phainon's expressions, behaviors, and quirks that Mydeimos had meticulously compiled, this was the face the ghost made when he was craving more coffee. Right?

"More coffee? I'll brew some in a bit."

But as he offered a single sentence and turned toward his bedroom, the white-haired ghost shook his head vigorously, his hand darting out to clutch the sleeve of the human's shirt.

"Dei. Wait. Please."

The towering Phainon bent down, bringing their faces level. Mydei, with his sunset-hued hair, froze, his amber eyes locking with the ghost's crystalline frost.

Phainon flashed his signature ear-to-ear grin, pointing a long, thick finger at his own forehead.

"Kiss. Here. Okay?"

Mydei's brain short-circuited.

K-Kiss? Wait—sure, the other day he had kissed Phainon's forehead, but that was purely to ease the pain of the ghastly scar above his eye. It was a gesture of comfort, nothing more! No feelings attached, okay? And yet, here was this white-haired menace, having tasted a crumb and now demanding a feast, boldly requesting another forehead kiss.

"Why so sudden?" He asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

The ghost merely pouted.

"Me. Want."

The reasoning was so absurdly simple it bordered on a jest. That was it?
He paused, reconsidering. In his eyes, Phainon was… oddly innocent, wasn't he? Maybe the ghost just liked being kissed, nothing deeper than that.

But why was his mind even wandering to 'something deeper'?

Unbeknownst to Mydei, a flush had crept across his face. For some reason, anything involving this ghost made him flustered in ways that neither his mother nor his schoolmates could ever provoke.

Phainon, meanwhile, fixed him with that giant-puppy look, his imaginary fluffy white tail practically wagging in the air.

Finally, Mydei made his decision. It was just a kiss on a ridiculously handsome ghost's forehead, no need to overthink it.

Placing both hands on Phainon's cheeks, he rose onto his toes and pressed a delicate, dragonfly-light kiss to the ghost's forehead. The ghost's expression melted into one of utter contentment, clearly reveling in the moment.

What he didn't anticipate was Phainon's next move. The ghost's hand rose, his thumb and forefinger gently cradling Mydei's face. Then, tilting his head, Phainon planted a soft kiss on the corner of his human's left eye. The act left the human utterly stunned, frozen in place. The kiss was cool, like a whisper of frost, yet it carried no trace of rejection, only a strange, nameless longing that lingered in its wake.

"What was that?" Mydei stammered, giving the ghost a gentle push.

He opened his mouth, ready to grumble about Phainon's impulsiveness, to insist that they shouldn't be doing this, that they didn't have that kind of relationship.

But then, deep down, Mydei realized he didn't want to say it.

He didn't dislike these reckless, innocent kisses they exchanged.

"N-Next time, don't do it so much," He blurted, his eyes widening as the words tumbled out. Next time? Wasn't he supposed to put a stop to this?

Phainon, for his part, remained unfazed, beaming even after being pushed away. Being this close to Dei today...how could he not be delighted? His human was just too adorable. In Phainon's eyes, his human was like a bashful bride after a whirlwind wedding. No matter. He'd take his time, testing the waters bit by bit.

From that day forward, kissesbecame a quiet norm between them. A kiss to start the day, another to end it. Always initiated by that clingy ghost. Sometimes, while watching movies together, Phainon would scoop Mydei into his arms, nibbling his cheek like an oversized hamster gnawing on a rice ball.

The said human found this whole situation deeply concerning.

Because, really, what two beings shared such sweet kisses without being lovers?

They'd already shared a bed, exchanged embraces, and traded kisses.

The worst part? Mydei didn't hate any of it.

He was currently grappling with a profoundly vexing dilemma.

It wasn't just the possibility that he might be attracted to men. The object of his faint, burgeoning affection was not only male but a ghost.

-

Phainon couldn't help but notice that the Mydeimos of this lifetime was subtly different from the Mydeimos of ages past.

Not that it was a bad thing.

Phainon cherished every iteration of Mydeimos.

His beloved in this era was a touch smaller than before, his mortal frame frailer now that he was merely flesh and blood. Yet, by the standards of this world's humans, Mydei was still considered a strapping, handsome young man.

In their previous life, their heights had been nearly equal with Phainon edging out by a mere quarter-inch. Now, Mydei stood several centimeters shorter, a fact that was both amusing and utterly endearing. (Let's be honest, it was mostly because a certain white-haired ghost had been warped into an absurdly towering form.)

And then there was this: in Phainon's eyes, the Mydei of this era was adorably prone to embarrassment. Truth be told, even centuries ago, the prince of Castrum Kremnos hadn't always been immune to bashfulness when faced with the Deliverer's flirtatious quips.

When Mydei grew flustered, he fell silent, the tips of his ears blazing crimson.

Just like now.

"…"

His human stood rigid before the kitchen counter, body taut as the white-haired ghost meticulously retied the loose strings of his apron from behind.

It was another night of home-cooked dinner. Despite the wealth of this young student's family, Mydei wasn't one to squander money on takeout.

His hands still gripped the kitchen knife tightly, a wooden cutting board littered with half-sliced tomatoes before him. The gentle chill of Phainon's hands resting on his waist as he deftly knotted the apron into a neat bow sent his thoughts spiraling into nonsense.

"Done yet?" Mydei asked, his eyes fixed on the halved tomato lying forlornly on the board.

Phainon didn't respond, but Mydei sensed he'd finished. Yet those hands lingered, refusing to leave his waist. Instead, they slid upward, tracing the curve of his spine before settling firmly on his hips.

He shivered, his eyes widening slightly.

Phainon's icy hands cradled his hips, fingers lightly kneading the flesh there. Even through the layers of his shirt and apron, the touch was electric, making Mydei hyper-aware of every sensation.

"Too small," the blasted ghost remarked, his towering frame seeming to envelop his human entirely.

Ignoring the human's stunned reaction, Phainon focused intently on measuring Mydei's waist. His mind raced with thoughts. His fingers then drifted forward, brushing the taut muscles of Mydei's abdomen, lingering just above his navel before inching higher, as if calculating something precise.

"Phainon?" Mydei's voice carried a hint of alarm.

Oblivious to the near-panicked call, the blindfolded ghost's gaze remained fixed on the faint flush creeping up Mydei's neck. He mulled it over, again and again. No matter how you look at it, it's going to be tough to fit! (Fit what, exactly?)

In two years, his beloved would be of age—

Wait. Phainon froze. What was he even thinking?

"Phainon, what are you doing? Move, I need to cook."

Poor Mydei, at a loss for how to react, could only resort to shooing the clingy ghost with words. How could he possibly suspect the impure thoughts swirling in the ghost's mind?

From behind, Phainon flashed his usual gentle, cheerful smile before leaning down to press a cool kiss to the nape of Mydei's neck.

"Alright. Done."

With some reluctance, the white-haired ghost finally released his human, retreating to the living room to sprawl across the sofa and resume his marathon of romantic films, ostensibly to 'hone his skills' for future use. What exactly he planned to apply those skills to remained a mystery.

Even after Phainon had left, Mydei lingered in place for a long moment.

His hand drifted to the nape of his neck, where that reckless kiss had landed.

“Damn it.”

He’d let it happen, his body hadn’t resisted in the slightest. As if what they’d done was natural, perfectly ordinary.

That cunning ghost was trouble.

-

It was another rainy day, and Mydei was nowhere to be found at home.

Bad things always seemed to happen on days like this, didn't they?

Phainon glanced at the small wall clock, his eyes still veiled by pristine white bandages. Four-thirty. Today was Friday, meaning his human wouldn't be back until seven-thirty at the earliest. Mydei was on library duty at school, one of the few tasked with managing the shift.

The white-haired ghost drifted aimlessly through the house, circling a few times. So boring!

In a fit of petulant sulking, he slumped into a corner to count ants. He'd already tidied the house, made Mydei's bed, watered the garden plants, and, of course, hadn't needed to cook. He'd done an excellent job, he thought proudly. Would his human praise him when he returned? Maybe he could coax a few extra kisses out of it.

Phainon's drooping white locks perked up suddenly, mirroring the spark of a new idea igniting in his mind.

What if he visited Mydei's school again? His human hadn't outright forbidden it, and an occasional visit couldn't hurt.

Though truthfully, Phainon felt a little guilty.

The last time he'd gone, he'd upset Mydei, and since then, his sneaky trips to the school had been few and far between, countable on one hand though. The ghost dreaded causing Mydei any sadness or disappointment. All he wanted was for his beloved to be happy, to revel in the tranquility of this mortal life.

Rain continued to trickle down, beading on the cold glass windows.

Mydeimos had already endured enough. He deserved this peaceful life. As for Phainon, he could just swallow every ancient memory soaked in blood and tears, even if it choked him on the way down.

When his beloved had departed, half of Phainon's soul had vanished with him. The remaining half had turned foolish, unmoored.

Phainon of Aedes Elysiae had traveled an unimaginable distance.

At that thought, the sun-shaped mark on his neck flared with a sudden, searing burn before fading just as quickly. He grimaced, a rare expression of raw discomfort crossing his face.

"…"

Phainon touched the mark briefly, then let his hand fall. Strange. It shouldn't react like that. It was far too soon…

Enough. He missed Mydei too much. To the library it was. A gut feeling told him something good would happen today, rain or no rain.

The white-haired ghost slipped through the fabric of reality, arriving instantly at Mydei's school. His human had no idea he could do that though. Being a ghost came with its perks, flexibility in spades.

Let's see: up one flight of stairs, a left turn, and there it was. The library entrance.

Inside, only a handful of students lingered, either cramming for exams or pursuing extra knowledge. Phainon, naturally, kept himself invisible, gliding through the space in search of that familiar sunset-hued hair.

There Mydei was, seated alone at the librarian's desk.

The ghost grinned to himself. Should he give the other a little scare, just for fun? Thinking back, the terrified look on Mydei's face when they first met had been equal parts hilarious and adorable.

Why not?

With a plan in place, Phainon glided behind Mydei's chair.

He was still engrossed in paperwork, completely oblivious to the impending mischief.

Phainon leaned in close, his icy breath grazing the back of Mydei's neck. Before the human could question the sudden chill in the library, the ghost pounced, wrapping his arms around both Mydei and the chair's backrest.

"Boo~!"

"What—?!"

A resounding thud echoed through the library as Mydei's knee slammed against the underside of the desk. The sound reverberated, drawing every eye to the librarian's station.

Mydeimos quickly shook off his shock, holding his breath and biting his lower lip to stifle the curse threatening to escape.

Eventually, the onlookers turned away.

"Phainon."

He reached back, seizing the tuft of hair atop the mischievous white-haired ghost's head. Phainon let out a high-pitched yelp. His human was ruthless! That tuft was sensitive, okay? Don't just yank it—!

"Next time you show up, you tell me first."

"Mm."

Phainon nuzzled his head against Mydei's cheek, like an oversized puppy offering an apology to its master. The human in his embrace let out a quiet sigh, laced with a hidden fondness.

"Why'd you come today?" He asked.

The white-haired ghost didn't hesitate for a second. He slumped his head onto his beloved's shoulder.

"Missed you."

Mydei's heart stuttered, racing once again. Here we go.

He hesitated before releasing Phainon's antenna-like tuft, instead running his fingers gently through the ghost's fluffy white hair. The ghost leaned into the touch, utterly content. This felt so good.

Mydei admitted to himself that he'd missed this lanky ghost too.

Earlier, while minding the bookshelves, all he could think about was rushing home to see Phainon. He'd realized he cared for him deeply. For weeks now, the ghost had been his first thought in every situation.

The paperwork on his desk lay forgotten, pens scattered haphazardly.

Outside, the rain kept falling.

"Dei. Kiss. Me. Please?"

This time, Phainon's tone held none of its usual petulant whining or exaggerated theatrics. His voice was low, warm, earnest, almost tender, as if he were simply laying his feelings bare.

The ghost smirked inwardly as he noticed the faint flush creeping across his human's face.

Mydei glanced around. They were in the school library, surrounded by only a handful of students, all buried in their books.

Tch, he was spoiling this ghost far too much.

Turning his chair to face the eagerly waiting Phainon, Mydei met his gaze. The ghost bent low, making it easier for his human to reach him.

"Just this once," he whispered.

He then leaned forward, pressing a simple kiss to Phainon's forehead. He didn't know that was Phainon's eyes uncovered, they would have gazed at him like a devoted disciple blessed by his deity.

When Mydei pulled back, he thought that would be enough.

But on this rainy day, Phainon wanted more. Much more. His hand gently lifted the other's chin, his thumb brushing against that irresistible lower lip.

His stared up at the ghost's striking face, a storm raging within him.

No. That's what his mind screamed.

But his heart told a different story. Somehow, this felt right...perfectly, undeniably right. It was absurd how little he wanted to resist, how little he wanted to pull away. Before he realized it, his eyes fluttered shut, like a shy partner nervously awaiting their lover's first move.

"Dei."

Phainon's voice was too deep.

Mydei could feel the ghost tilting his head slightly. Phainon's face drew closer, inch by inch. Until—

"Senior Mydeimos."

A junior student approached to return a book.

In that moment, a flurry of actions unfolded.

Mydei jolted from his chair, his hand instinctively shooting up to block Phainon's lips, pushing him back just a fraction. He adjusted the glasses perched on his nose, striving to reclaim the professional composure that defined his usual demeanor. It was admirable how he managed to maintain a steady, serious tone without so much as a stammer.

"You're here to borrow a book, right? Could you give me the title, your name, and the expected return date for the library records?"

His slightly trembling hand gripped the pen tightly, while the other pulled the borrowing log from the desk drawer.

The underclassman standing before him cast a peculiar glance at his senior. Then, with a dismissive shake of his head, the teen brushed it off. It was probably just fatigue from staying late at school that made senior Mydeimos seem a bit distracted and weary.

Meanwhile, a certain white-haired spirit, thwarted just before he could savor a delectable moment, felt his mood plummet, gloomier than the rain-soaked sky outside. No way, no way! He'd been that close! The only reason he hadn't materialized fully and snapped at the meddling student was sheer self-restraint.

And so, in a secluded corner of the library, Phainon sulked, curling up with his knees to his chest and rolling back and forth on the floor in a petulant huff.

Mydei, at a loss, watched from a distance. Sometimes, that guy was just too childish for his own good.

…He spent the rest of his shift at the library desk mulling over what had just happened.

-

Finally, half-past seven arrived.

The library had emptied out, leaving no one but Mydei and Phainon.
Mydeimos slung his bag over his shoulder and called out loudly, "Phainon, time to head home."

But the ghost didn't budge toward the door. Was he still sulking over that earlier incident?

The human scanned the room until his eyes landed on a tall, imposing figure standing motionless by the library window, gazing out at the rain. There was a quiet melancholy in Phainon's stance, or so Mydei surmised. It struck him that he'd grown adept at reading Phainon's moods just from the way he carried himself.

Outside, the sky had darkened, and the rain poured relentlessly. Truth be told, weather like this didn't exactly make Mydei eager to rush home either.

His gaze lingered on Phainon's silhouette, and the world slipped into a profound silence.

At that moment, he realized something: Phainon was lonely. A wayward spirit adrift in a human world, with no one but him as his companion.

He took a step closer.

And perhaps, he thought, this wayward spirit was his only companion too.

...'Companion' huh? The word felt… off, somehow, in this fleeting moment.

His bag slipped from his shoulder, hitting the floor with a soft thud as he suddenly wrapped his arms around Phainon from behind. The ghost flinched, startled, and Mydei couldn't help but feel a spark of amusement, tinged with a small, wicked satisfaction. Payback for that scare a few hours ago.

"Dei!"

The white-haired ghost spun around, bending slightly to return the embrace. That was just how he was. Open, unguarded, always ready to reciprocate. If their roles were reversed, Mydei would probably just stand there, letting Phainon hug him without moving a muscle.

What a fool. A big, kind-hearted, earnest, clingy fool.

That was what Mydeimos saw in Phainon. And it was something only Mydeimos could see.

"Shall we head home now?" he asked.

Phainon's usual exuberance returned in a flash, his head nodding eagerly as his large hand enveloped Mydei's smaller one.

"Home," he agreed.

Outside, the rain continued to fall.

Chapter Text

Túc duyên (n.) generally refers to a predestined bond, a connection between people that originates from a previous life.

-

'I’ve developed feelings for a ghost. What in the world am I supposed to do now?'

'If, hypothetically, ghosts were real and one happened to be breathtakingly handsome, what would you do?'

'That ghost keeps kissing me, and I’m at a loss about how to handle him. Please, I need advice.'

These were the questions that plagued Mydeimos’ mind. He’d even toyed with the idea of posting them on Reddit, desperately seeking answers from strangers. But at the last moment, his rationality always pulled him back from the brink. He was convinced that no one else in the world had ever encountered a ghost like he had. Surely, no internet denizen would take his plight seriously.

Mydeimos was spiraling into an existential crisis.

A cataclysmic, world-shattering crisis.

Phainon’s strong arms encircled Mydei’s waist once more, gently drawing him back against the ghost’s broad chest. His phone, abandoned on the nightstand, lay forgotten, its screen still glowing faintly in the dark, displaying Safari’s search bar.

Big spoon enveloping little spoon, the human found himself nestled in Phainon’s embrace yet again.

The room remained shrouded in darkness. It was that quiet hour of the night when they’d slip into bed, ready to surrender to the pull of dreams. For reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, ever since their fateful encounter in the library, a new ritual had blossomed between him and the silver-haired ghost.

That ritual? Pre-sleep cuddling.

To be fair, Mydei was always the one being held—before sleep, during sleep, and even after sleep. But these moments were different. Profoundly, achingly different.

Because—

“Phainon, stop it. It’s late. Not there…”

The ghost’s searing kisses trailed along the nape of his neck. Unrelenting, Phainon left a constellation of crimson marks blooming across Mydeimos’ skin, delicate as budding flowers, as though staking a claim on the human’s very being.

His entire body trembled, the skin at his nape flushed a vivid red, betraying the embarrassment he couldn’t conceal.

The the real problem was that Mydei didn’t stop him. He let the ghost do as he pleased. And that was precisely why he’d declared this a full-blown crisis.

Because, deep down, the human admitted to himself that he liked it when Phainon touched him like this.

As it turned out, his tastes veered toward the audacious and bizarre. He’d convinced himself time and again that this was a ghost, a lingering spirit of someone long departed.

“We really should get some sleep,” Mydei murmured, his voice soft but firm, though his resolve wavered as he bit his lip. Indeed, both of them ought to be asleep by now. There was no rational reason for him to be entertaining thoughts of a future entwined with a man towering at an absurd two meters thirty. Absolutely not.

Yet, Phainon seemed to revel in the intimacy of kisses and embraces, his affection almost palpable.

Given his smaller frame, he was perpetually enveloped in the ghost's arms, vanishing into his overwhelming presence. He couldn’t fathom what epiphany had struck Phainon after downing two liters of coffee, but whatever it was, it had only made the ghost clingier, more tethered to him than ever.

“Dei…” Phainon’s voice was a low, delighted whisper, his white hair catching the dim light as he spoke. His mood was unmistakably buoyant, especially after pressing a series of lingering kisses to the nape of Mydei’s neck.

The human still couldn’t unravel the enigma that was Phainon.

With a restless shift, Mydei turned to face him, their gazes locking. He refused to let this ghost take advantage of him so easily. He needed to shield the vulnerable curve of his neck now littered with the ghost’s fervent kisses from Phainon’s hungry eyes.

“That’s enough,” He declared, his tone resolute. “Time to sleep.”

Unbeknownst to him, in the ghost's eyes, Mydeimos was just as captivating from the front as he was from behind.

But Phainon was a patient and kindhearted ghost. For now, he’d refrain from teasing his human further. With a tender gesture, he slid an arm around Mydei’s waist, drawing him flush against his chest, his chin resting gently atop his human's head.

His Mydeimos must be exhausted. Sleep was the wiser choice.

The ghost caught the faint sound of a sigh, the rhythm of the man with the fiery, sunset-hued hair growing steadier, calmer. Mydei had lost count of how many times he’d shared a bed with a ghost in the most literal sense. Yet, one truth burned brightly in his heart.

He wouldn’t sleep soundly without Phainon.

Truly, this foolish ghost, towering over two meters, had unwittingly conditioned Mysei to crave his embrace to find rest. How utterly infuriating.

Before he succumbed to the embrace of deep slumber, he felt the hand resting on his hip begin a slow, deliberate ascent along his spine, those thick, elongated fingers weaving through the strands of his hair. Phainon’s touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he ruffled the human's head, tenderly stroking the tiny sprout nestled there.

“Dei. Sweet dreams.”

That night, the human slept soundly, cocooned in warmth and contentment.

-

Today, they were about to embark on something utterly extraordinary.

After a grueling week of classes and weathering the relentless onslaught of nerve-wracking exams, young master Mydeimos decided it was high time to treat himself to a jaunt through the city.

What made this outing particularly unorthodox? Well—

“Dei. They. No. Fit.”

—Phainon was tagging along.

“But you’re a ghost, for crying out loud! Why do you even care about dressing up?” He protested, half-exasperated, half-amused.

The oversized white puppy—er, ghost—before him wilted, his expression comically forlorn. Phainon clutched Mydei’s favorite t-shirt, which he’d hoped to borrow for the occasion. Unfortunately, the size disparity between them was, to put it mildly, significant. When he tried it on, the fabric strained painfully under his armpits, clinging so tightly that his chiseled muscles were practically screaming for attention...a fact that had the human repeatedly averting his gaze, cheeks faintly warm.

In the end, the ghost surrendered, peeling off the ill-fated shirt with a dramatic sigh.

The reason he was so fixated on appearances today? His Mydeimos was looking devastatingly dapper.

The human had donned a sleek black turtleneck sweater paired with equally dark jeans, a striking departure from his usual casual flair. Typically, Mydei would sweep his hair back into a tidy little ponytail, but last night’s… enthusiastic encounter with a certain someone had left his nape a bit too tender for that.

Absently, Mydei slipped a hand beneath his hair, brushing his fingers over the sensitive skin at the back of his neck. Phew. The high collar had done its job, no evidence of last night’s mischief was visible. He was certain he was in the clear.

Returning to his earlier question, the two-meter-three ghost slouched, his voice a petulant mumble.

“You. Look. Gorgeous. Me. Look. Bad.”

He even tacked on, for good measure, a pitiful little pout.

“We… gotta match.”

Mydeimos’ eyes widened. Where in the world had this ghost picked up the phrase 'we gotta match'? But here Phainon was, spiraling into another bout of self-deprecating nonsense about his looks. Honestly, hadn’t Mydei already told him last time that he was far from unattractive?

And, truth be told, Mydei still thought so.

Stepping closer to Phainon, hebarely reached the ghost's shoulder, even at this intimate distance. Undeterred, he reached up, cupping Phainon’s face with both hands and tugging gently to force the sulky ghost to meet his gaze.

A pair of stark white eyes collided with amber orbs that sparkled like molten gold.

His lips curved into a sly, lopsided grin. “How’s a guy this handsome even real?”

Phainon’s jaw snapped shut, his entire body freezing as if someone had doused him in industrial-grade superglue. Oh, sweet stars above—his wife just complimented him! The white-haired ghost’s ego skyrocketed to cosmic levels, silently declaring that if he died right then and there, it’d be a life well lived. Well, technically, he was already a ghost, so dying was off the table, but who cared about technicalities?

As if that weren’t enough, Mydei tilted Phainon’s face gently to the left and pressed a soft kiss to his right cheek. As previously noted, these little gestures had become something of a routine between them.

Yet, in the depths of the human's heart, their relationship remained tantalizingly ambiguous.

The truth was, he wasn’t quite ready to admit that to a ghost.

“Phainon,” Mydei said, his tone firm yet warm, “you’re not ugly. Even if that infuriatingly perfect face of yours got smashed to bits, I’d still say you’re not ugly.”

Because beauty or lack thereof wasn’t just about appearances. And even if it were, Phainon’s looks could rival any runway model on TV, save for his ghostly pale skin and those eerie, absent eyes.

His gaze drifted past the ghost to the white cloak draped carelessly over the sofa, its fabric marred with unsightly stains.

“Actually,” he mused, “we could hit the shops today if you’re still hung up on dressing up. But I’m thinking it’s high time you washed that old outfit of yours.”

The only reason Mydeimos hadn’t nagged Phainon about laundry sooner was that, as a ghost, the guy didn’t exactly have a body odor problem. He was perpetually pristine, despite the occasional golden bloodstain splattered on his clothes. The human had half-wondered if the ghost’s outfit was somehow fused to his skin, considering how immaculate he always seemed.

Phainon’s gaze lingered on his human through the stark white bandage obscuring his eyes. Then, with a quiet grace, he lifted his own hand, enveloping the other's smaller one in a gentle clasp. He eased it away from his face, only to press a cool, fleeting kiss to the back of it.

He nodded, a spark of conviction in his posture. “Me. Handsome. Already.”

If Mydei deemed him handsome, then handsome he was. No questions asked.

With that, Phainon slipped into the human’s bedroom to stash the too-small t-shirt. When he emerged, he was back in his default ghost attire, the familiar garb he’d wear one last time before subjecting it to a much-needed wash.

Let’s hit the road.

-

The bustling Marmoreal pedestrian street was just a short walk away, easily reachable on foot. To any passerby, Mydei would appear as a lone, effortlessly cool guy sauntering through the crowd, hands tucked into his pockets with an air of nonchalant swagger.

What they couldn’t see was the other hand nestled in his pocket, enveloping his own with a protective warmth. Phainon, ever the clingy ghost, had half a mind to shrink himself into a tiny orb just so Mydei could tuck him away like a secret treasure. Alas, no such luck, shrinking wasn’t in his repertoire.

The ghost was, admittedly, a touch overwhelmed.

This was his first proper outing with his human.

Mydei led him into a trendy boutique, the kind with racks of clothes that screamed both style and expense. Money wasn’t an issue for him, he had more than enough to spoil his ghost companion. “Pick whatever you want,” he’d told Phainon with a grin. “Consider it a gift from yours truly.”

But, as fate would have it, a new problem reared its head.

“Phainon,” Mydei hissed under his breath, pretending to browse a rack of shirts to deflect the attention of the store’s overly attentive staff, “we are not buying that.”

The white-haired ghost pouted, clutching a pair of lavender pants and a mustard-yellow shirt emblazoned with the garish logo of some dromases. They were mascots from some absurdly popular kids’ movie. His stubborn attachment to the outfit was almost endearing.

Almost.

Mydei sighed, realizing with dawning horror that the ghost's fashion sense was an absolute trainwreck.

This was beyond bizarre. Phainon’s default knight-like ensemble was, frankly, far from terrible. It was oddly fitting for a ghost of his stature. So how in the world had it come to this? A sudden, inexplicable obsession with mustard-yellow shirts and lavender pants? It was a plot twist Mydei hadn’t seen coming.

“Me. Like. This.”

Phainon’s tone was earnest, bordering on pleading. Mydei could practically feel the puppy-dog eyes beaming at him, even if those eyes were hidden behind that blasted white bandage.

Mydeimos stared helplessly at the garish dromases shirt clutched in Phainon’s hands. This was, without question, a fashion catastrophe of apocalyptic proportions. No way in hell was someone with his refined aesthetic sensibilities going to let—

“Pleeeease?”

Phainon pulled out the big guns, swooping in to envelop Mydei in a hug from behind, his massive frame practically swallowing the human whole. If the ghost had a tail, it’d probably be wagging at thirty-three million RPMs by now.

Resigned, Mydei rummaged through the racks, snatching up a few normal outfits to balance out the impending disaster. Then, under the weight of Phainon’s absurdly hopeful gaze, he trudged to the counter with the stack of clothes and, yes, the cursed yellow shirt and purple pants. So far, they’d only been browsing styles; now came the real headache: sizing.

“Could you, uh, help me with sizing?” Mydei asked.

The boutique wasn’t crowded, and the seasoned pro with a warm, welcoming smile saleswoman nodded eagerly. “Of course, sir!”

She sized Mydei up with a practiced eye, clearly accustomed to gauging measurements at a glance. Assuming the clothes were for him, she offered cheerfully, “You’ve got a model’s build, you know. I’d say you’re a perfect L or XL. Shall I grab those sizes for these pieces?”

Mydeimos coughed, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he shot a glance at Phainon, who was invisible to the saleswoman, standing right beside him.

He shook his head quickly. “No, no, they’re not for me.”

“Oh!” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Buying for your boyfriend, then?”

“He’s not— I mean, no! That’s not it!” Mydeimos’ eyes widened to saucers, a rush of heat flooding his cheeks. Why was he blushing? His skin was usually thicker than a dragon’s hide. The saleswoman pressed her lips together, barely stifling a laugh. Oh, she knew she’d hit the nail on the head.

He steadied himself, forcing a calm facade despite the heat still lingering in his cheeks.

“If someone’s, say… about two meters tall, what size would they wear?”

The saleswoman froze, her professional poise faltering for a split second. Good heavens, she thought, two meters? I’ve never dealt with a case that tall.

She tilted her head, recovering with a smile. “Alright, let’s see. Is your boyfriend a bit shorter or taller than two meters?”

She was already betting on 'shorter,' mentally flipping through XXL options, when—

“Taller.”

Her eyes widened, flicking to Mydeimos with a mix of concern and curiosity. Is this guy okay? she wondered. If that giant’s too rough with you, sweetie, just give her an S.O.S. signal. Oh, she was getting ahead of herself again, surely everything was fine! Mydei, his fiery sunset hair catching the light, suddenly found the shop’s windows fascinating, avoiding her gaze entirely.

“I’ll grab size 5XL for him, then,” she said, jotting it down. (Typically for folks over 1.94 meters, she noted mentally).

After an ordeal that felt like wrangling a dragon, Mydei finally secured the purchases.

He stepped out of the boutique, arms laden with bags, while Phainon trailed behind, practically radiating glee. The ghost itched to carry the bags for Mydei but floating shopping bags might send passersby into a panic, so he restrained himself.

Their adventure continued with food (Phainon mostly watched Mydei eat, sneaking a tiny nibble here and there) and coffee (where Phainon, with zero chill, slurped down both their lattes). One of their final stops was a cozy bookstore. While the human stocked up on school supplies and novels, he also grabbed a handful of fairy tale books on a whim. They’d be perfect for a certain ghost to practice reading.

Mydei always kept an eye on his ghost companion, quietly admiring Phainon’s efforts to master human speech. The guy had come a long way. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Phainon understood everything. His listening skills were razor-sharp. It was just his verbal communication that lagged, like a glitch in an otherwise brilliant system. After all, this was the same ghost who could breeze through math problems, tackle physics, and even outshine him in chemistry. The guy’s intellect was borderline unfair.

He hauled his stack of books to the counter, ready to check out.

In a fleeting, idle thought, he realized he didn’t need the internet’s approval to make decisions about this. Whatever this was between him and his enigmatic ghost.

The hour was growing late, and it was time to head back.

Yes, their home.

-

Phainon and Mydei strolled along the lakeside, their house just a few steps away. The sunset unfurled in a blaze of glory, the sun sinking into the sky’s molten embrace like it was settling into a cosmic bath.

To the casual observer, it was just Mydei walking alone, but the white-haired ghost beside him didn’t so much walk as glide. Phainon’s upper body remained eerily still, giving the impression he was skateboarding on air. A ghost’s flair for the dramatic, no doubt.

“Phainon, did you have fun today?” The human asked, glancing up at the towering figure beside him.

Unlike his usual over-the-top exuberance, Phainon’s response was soft, almost tender. He nodded gently. “Yeah. So. Much.”

One human, one ghost. They looked like a couple wrapping up a perfect date.

Phainon’s gestures toward Mydei were always steeped in an emotion too profound to name. If he still had pupils, those eyes would surely brim with adoration, reflecting nothing but his human’s face.

He noticed these subtle details, the kind that proved Phainon’s place in his eyes had shifted long ago. For someone who shied away from deep social ties, his heart had quietly carved out a space for this silly ghost.

Enough was enough, he decided. No more lying to himself.

He was a straightforward guy, the type to tackle problems head-on with ruthless efficiency. If this issue didn’t involve a literal ghost, he’d have sorted it out ages ago.

“Hey.”

Mydei tightened his grip on the hand nestled in his pocket. They were still sneaking those secret hand-holds, shielded from prying eyes.

Phainon’s lips curved into a wide, radiant grin, his bandaged eyes tilting downward. “Dei?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, catching the ghost off guard. They stood there, bathed in the golden glow of dusk, the sparse passersby oblivious to the scene unfolding.

Before Phainon could spiral into panic over his human’s prolonged silence, Mydeimos dropped an atomic bomb.

“Phainon, I like you.”

“…”

The white-haired ghost short-circuited. His name, his location, his entire existence—poof, gone. He stood frozen, a hulking figure next to his human, looking for all the world like an oversized white dog beside a sassy little cat.

His free hand (the one not clutching Mydei’s) flew to his mouth as if to contain the explosion of emotions.

In Phainon’s mind, they were already married (or something like it), but this? This was the first time Mydei had laid his feelings bare so directly, so boldly.

Finally, that iconic ear-to-ear grin returned, lighting up his face. “Me. Like. Dei. Too.”

The sunset-haired human let out a relieved breath. Good grief, it took Phainon a solid eternity to process that confession. But Mydei couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion that the ghost had known about his feelings for a while now.

Whatever! All his thoughts converged into a single, exhilarating truth.

Mydei had just confessed to a demon and been accepted.

His type, apparently, was a devilishly handsome ghost half a meter taller than him in the most literal sense. So what did the future hold now? He’d gone and locked in a relationship with a stunning ghost.

No regrets. Not a single one.

The front door loomed ahead, and Mydei instinctively fished out his keys, sliding them into the lock.

But—

The moment the door clicked open, Mydeimos found himself swept inside, pinned against the nearest wall by a certain someone. Phainon loomed before him, uncharacteristically serious, one hand braced against the wall, caging Mydei in with no escape.

“Phainon…?” His voice wavered, uncertain.

The door swung shut behind them, and the shopping bags slipped from his hands, thudding softly onto the floor.

The white-haired ghost’s free hand tilted his human’s chin upward, a cryptic smile curling his lips. He leaned in close, his breath grazing Mydei’s ear as he whispered, low and deliberate.

“Mydeimos.”

A shiver raced down his spine.

Phainon had used his full name.

After being called 'Dei' day in and day out, this sudden shift hit like a thunderbolt. That deep, velvety voice suddenly dropped a full ten octaves and sent goosebumps prickling across his skin.

Phainon’s thumb brushed Mydei’s lower lip, coaxing his mouth open with a gentle press. Those sweet lips, ones the ghost had once let slip through his fingers, were now tantalizingly close. They were home now. No stuffy library, no meddling underclassmen to interrupt.

The white-haired dipped his head and claimed his human's lips in a searing kiss.

Mydei’s eyes fluttered shut, his inexperience laid bare. This was his first kiss, his lips’ maiden voyage, stolen by none other than Phainon himself.

Kissing, it turned out, was a little suffocating.

The ghost's tongue slipped into his mouth, entwining with his hesitant one. Deeper, wetter, hotter. The hand that had been braced against the wall slid to his waist, anchoring him as Phainon dominated the moment with a single, breathtaking kiss.

Only in moments like these did Mydei truly register just how massive the white-haired ghost was.

And, by the way, Phainon wasn’t human, which meant his stamina for kissing wasn’t either.

Mydei vaguely recalled tapping the ghost's shoulder, a desperate plea for air. A brief pause followed as he gasped to catch his breath. In that fleeting reprieve, Phainon gleefully peppered kisses across the corner of his mouth, his eyelids, his cheeks, and his forehead.

Phainon loved hugging and kissing. Always had, always would.

Truth be told, he also wanted to do… other things.

But alas, his official boyfriend still had a year or two before he was of age.

Phainon would wait. Patiently. Definitely.

Mydei pressed a hand against Phainon’s chest, gently pushing him back as he turned his head to hide the crimson flush scorching his face. His adorable human didn’t even notice that the blush had crept down to his collarbone, painting his skin a vivid red.

“Take the bags inside,” Mydei mumbled, voice unsteady. “I’m gonna start dinner.”

With that, the human bolted deeper into the house.

Phainon’s lips quirked into a soft smile as he gathered the shopping bags from their spree. “Alright.”

He followed Mydei’s footsteps into their home, a quiet hum of contentment in his chest. Hopefully, there'll be coffee tonight. A faint sting, like a mosquito bite, pricked at the sun-shaped tattoo on his neck before fading as quickly as it came, as if it had never been.

Phainon couldn’t wait to see what the coming days would bring.

Chapter Text

Thanh tiêu (n) means a clear sky without clouds or mist, it can also be used to refer to the sky or the heavens in general.

-

[Mom] Mydei, how have you been these days?

Every few days or at worst once a week, Mrs. Gorgo would text her beloved son to check in. She was currently working overseas, while Mydei studied back home. With both of them busy, their chances to meet were few and far between. Still, they somehow managed to keep a warm, two-way bond that never felt distant.

[Meowdei] I’m fine.

It never took him more than five minutes to reply. Honestly, sometimes Gorgo had the impression that her son might be waiting for her message. That thought always tugged at her heart a little along with the guilt of not being able to see him more often. If only work and distance weren’t such merciless things.

Their chats were simple: health, studies, the usual. Sometimes they talked about random things, like the photos Mydeimos posted online whenever he had free time (usually of gorgeous food…no wonder he had so many followers).

Still, it was comforting to know her one and only child was doing fine.

[Mom] Remember to take care of yourself.

[Meowdei] I will.

The truth was even with her busy schedule keeping her away, Gorgo could never shake off a small, quiet worry. Mydeimos rarely told her about his troubles or the things that weighed on him. Perhaps he didn’t want to burden his mother with them.

Gorgo was both a single mother and a remarkably successful woman.

The middle-aged woman with blazing amber-orange hair sat in her sleek, air-conditioned office. Setting her phone down, her amber eyes drifted toward the window.

Her upcoming schedule was surprisingly open. Maybe… maybe it was time for a surprise trip home to see her dear son.

Yes, that sounded perfect.

A soft smile tugged at her lips.

After all, if she told him beforehand, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?

-

“Phainon, are you aware that you’re supposed to be my boyfriend, not a deadweight?”

Mydeimos let out a long, defeated sigh.

Ever since they’d officially started dating, it felt like someone had flipped a switch inside Phainon.

The white-haired ghost had become painfully clingy.

Clingier than ever.

Whenever Mydeimos went to cook, Phainon would somehow materialize in the kitchen too. His cooking skills were… questionable, so most of the time he just stood there watching (though, to be fair, he could make a decent salad). Still, the ghost couldn’t seem to go five minutes without wrapping himself around Mydei. The moment he saw his human standing alone for too long, he’d float over just to plant a kiss or three and wrap him up in a back hug.

And when Mydeimos tried to study, one of three things would happen.

First, Phainon would offer help on science homework, which basically meant he answered the multiple-choice questions with suspicious accuracy.

Second, he’d sit quietly in a corner, hugging a dictionary and studying human language like an obedient puppy.

Third and by far the most common, Phainon would simply scoop Mydei up into his lap, declare him his reading companion, and proceed to very publicly give out affection. (Activities included but were not limited to kissing, hugging, braiding hair, cheek-biting, and the occasional neck kiss. Don’t ask Mydei how he remembers all that. Just don’t).

Unfair? Absolutely. On what cosmic basis did that ghost think he had the right?

“Phainon, put me down.”

“No.”

“Did you just refuse me?”

“Pleaaase?”

Mydeimos lasted maybe thirty seconds against that pathetic, drenched-puppy expression before giving in. The bastard ghost knew he couldn’t focus on his studies while being held hostage in those arms. Yet, somehow, his grades had actually gone up lately. It was almost enough to make him believe in ridiculous things like ‘the power of love.’

As for bedtime…well, let’s not even go there. Phainon clung to him like Mydeimos was a walking treasure chest, like a spot where gold, silver, diamonds all rolled into one. The ghost was basically a greedy miner who insisted on sleeping with his loot. Things had gotten to the point where the white-haired ghost would literally park outside the bathroom door every time Mydei went in for a shower.

Speaking of which, that reminded Mydei of something.

Do ghosts actually take showers?

…Uh. Wait.

As mentioned before, Phainon’s body functioned… in a rather abnormal way.

For the longest time, Mydeimos had believed the ghost didn’t have a scent at all. Yet, ever since Phainon became his boyfriend, his body seemed to carry a faint, pleasant aroma of wheat. Honestly, it wasn’t bad, in fact, Mydei kind of liked it.

In short, Phainon always smelled good. Suspiciously good. Especially considering that Mydei had never once seen him take a shower.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t even seen the ghost shirtless. Still, he could imagine what lay beneath that tight black shirt. Those broad shoulders, solid muscles, and that ridiculous height that only made everything worse.

The human groaned, burying his face in a sofa pillow. Love was confusing as hell. Was wanting to see your boyfriend’s bare body part of being in love? He gave himself a light bonk on the head. That thought was way too wild.

Poor Mydei didn’t realize that his ghost was even wilder.

A large, cold hand wrapped gently around his ankle.

Of course, it was Phainon. The ghost always showed up out of nowhere, like a winter draft sneaking through a crack in the window. Once upon a time, that used to scare the life out of Mydei; now, he was more or less immune. At least he’d reached the level of experience no horror game protagonist ever achieves: Not jumping when the ghost suddenly appears.

“Dei. What you doing?”

“Watching a movie.”

Flaming orange hair spilled over the back of the sofa. His black T-shirt had ridden up, revealing a glimpse of a firm abdomen and a model’s waistline. A square pillow rested in his arms, while his two ankles were quite comfortably cupped in Phainon’s large, cold hands.

The ghost smiled, body language practically radiating mischief. Which could only mean one thing. He was plotting something.

Pale fingers brushed over Mydei’s foot, rubbing clumsily, testing a few hesitant strokes. Maybe Phainon had just learned about massage techniques online and was trying to apply them. Actually, come to think of it, Mydei had once caught him watching a video about… full-body massages.

Why the hell would a ghost need to study that?

Before he could find the answer, Phainon’s fingers suddenly poked the sole of his foot.

“Phainon.”

Mydei’s voice carried that warning tone, the kind that said don’t you dare. He was certain the white-haired ghost already knew he was ticklish.

They slept in the same bed every night. It was only a matter of time before Phainon discovered that adorable little secret.

The ghost smirked and that was never a good sign.

He tightened his grip around Mydei’s ankle, sliding a finger from the tips of his toes down to his heel. That one stroke was enough to make the human bite back a laugh, his shoulders trembling as he tried (and failed) to hold it in.

Light as a feather, Phainon’s touch brushed across his sole again.

“Phai—haha—stop—! Stop it—!”

Mydei’s foot thrashed helplessly in the ghost’s iron grip. He propped himself up on his elbows, trying to haul himself upright on the plush sofa, but Phainon was two steps ahead. With a swift tug, the ghost yanked his leg back, sending Mydei sprawling flat on his back with an undignified thud.

Phainon’s smile stretched wider, its breadth directly proportional to his sheer audacity. Those wicked hands of his slid up Mydeimos’s thighs, giving them a teasing squeeze.

That did it. Mydeimos burst into laughter, breathless and defeated.

If the white-haired bastard told him he’d taken a course in “How to Tickle Mydeimos into Oblivion,” Mydei would probably believe it without question.

“N-no—haha—stooop—!”

But Phainon didn’t stop. He pushed Mydei down against the couch and continued his merciless 'torture”' until the poor human’s laughter melted into tired giggles. Eventually, Mydei drifted off, sound asleep in those cool, ghostly arms.

The TV droned on, its forgotten horror movie flickering in the background.

-

And yet, one question still lingered in Mydei’s mind.

Do ghosts even take showers?

This was the same guy who’d boldly confessed his love to a maybe-dead-maybe-not ghost after realizing his feelings. Surely he had the guts to look Phainon in the eye and ask, “Hey, do you ever, like, shower? Wanna join me?”

When he finally asked, Phainon just froze, utterly bewildered.

“…Bath?”

Phainon blinked, pretending to sniff himself as if verifying a serious crime. Inside his head, roughly four hundred and two million thoughts crashed into each other at once. What did his human mean by that? Did he smell weird? Was his scent not Mydei’s type? Wait, had Mydei finally discovered that he’d been secretly borrowing his cologne? Oh no. Oh no. What if he found out about the other things Phainon had ‘borrowed’? No, no, if all his secrets were exposed, Mydei might actually start hating him!

“What’s wrong? Did I say something weird?” Mydei asked, bewildered.

And Phainon just went and asked again.

“…Bath?”

“Yeah. Bath.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

The white-haired ghost fell silent, expression unreadable, clearly processing this monumental revelation.

But in the end, one thing was certain: today, they were going to take a bath. Together.

Mydei’s own room only had a standing shower, but the guest room was different. It boasted a bathtub the size of half the room. Originally, Mrs. Gorgo had meant it for her beloved son, but Mydeimos found it too much of a hassle to climb upstairs and too time-consuming just to take a bath. In the end, it became the ‘guest’ room. In other words, the abandoned one.

He’d done a quick cleanup earlier, making the place at least decent enough for use. It wasn’t like they’d be bathing together often (or so he told himself). Once would be enough. Probably.

The tub filled with steaming water, warm mist curling into the air. Everything was ready. It was now a perfectly spacious setup for one human and one ghost.

When Mydei came back out to undress, he found Phainon fumbling around outside, trying to organize clothes for after the bath. The ghost seemed to be struggling with the medical bandages wrapped around his torso, muttering something under his breath as he worked to unwrap them.

“…”

Well, he did look absurdly pleased about finally having an excuse to wear that ‘special occasion’ outfit which was that one golden shirt and the ridiculous purple pants. He was probably planning to put them on after the bath and go straight to bed.

Mydeimos let out a soft sigh and stripped down, stepping barefoot onto the cool marble floor veined with pale light. The warm yellow glow from the lamps reflected off the glossy tiles, filling the room with a serene radiance. The faint sweetness of incense hung in the misty air, and the rising steam made him blink a few times, vision blurring in the soft haze.

He sank slowly into the tub, the warm water wrapping around his skin like a soft embrace.

Then, out of nowhere, a shiver racked his frame.

A sudden, bone-deep chill.

He was adrift, floating in waters that turned icy, piercing straight to his core. Above, the night sky glittered with stars, a relentless wind whistling past his cheeks. Meaningless whispers echoed around him, soft and indecipherable. When he glanced down at his hands, they were small and childlike, bound tightly in white bandages.

For reasons he couldn’t name, this weightless, drifting sensation filled him with dread.

Mydeimos fought against it, refusing to surrender to the current’s pull—

“Dei?”

Like a lifeline tossed into the abyss, a large hand settled gently on his cheek, giving him a soft shake.

“You okay? What. Wrong?”

Mydei snapped back to reality. His brow furrowed as his gaze dropped, only to be met with a veritable baguette bakery of pale, chiseled abs…eight of them, to be precise.

His brain short-circuited. Whatever strange dreamlike state he’d been in? Gone. Obliterated.

Sure, he’d known Phainon had a good build. But this? This was sculpted-by-the-gods level perfection. Like those ancient Greek statues come to life but somehow even smugger. His eyes trailed down before he could stop himself… lower… lower and thankfully, the ghost had at least bothered to wrap a towel around his waist.

Phainon, of course, misread the situation spectacularly.

The ghost, thinking his human wanted to inspect the goods, started reaching for the towel like a proud model ready to show off the full collection.

Mydei’s reflexes kicked in just in time as he grabbed Phainon by the wrist and yanked him straight into the tub.

Splash.

Silence.

Neither said a word after that supremely awkward moment. The steam hung heavy between them, and Mydei could practically hear the sound of his own heartbeat.

Well. That just happened.

Phainon, ever the shameless one, was grinning from ear to ear, completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t just tried to flash him. He clearly found teasing his human entertaining, though even he knew better than to push too far. After all, if Mydei got mad and banned him from the bedroom, that would be a catastrophe.

“You. Angry?”

“No.” Mydei muttered, though his ears were red enough to tell a different story.

Honestly, he figured he was probably the only man alive who’d ever gotten the chance to take a bath with a ghost.…Did that count as bathing with the dead? Yeah, that didn’t sound great at all.

Mydei glanced over again and only then did he realize that Phainon had taken off his usual blindfold before stepping into the bath. A strange, quiet pride stirred inside him. The white-haired ghost must have trusted him enough to show what he usually hid.

Still, Mydei wanted to know more about him.

“If I asked you about your life before this… would you be comfortable with that?”

With Phainon’s face fully exposed, Mydei could see the ghost freeze. Those fathomless, pitch-black voids where eyes should’ve been locked onto him, his broad shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

Just as expected. Not a good reaction.

It was natural to want to learn more about your partner, but Mydei only wanted to ask if the other was comfortable answering. So he shook his head lightly.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“Flame.”

The single word escaped the ghost’s lips.

Mydei stared, dumbfounded, at the white-haired. Flame? The scars on Phainon didn’t exactly scream ‘burn victim.’ Something didn’t add up. Then, Phainon’s lips curled into a cryptic, mischievous smirk as he leaned closer.

“Me tell you if you let me hold you~”

The sunset haired with the side braid shot the ghost a look at his enormous, suddenly very enthusiastic ghost. Mydei hesitated for a second, then spread his arms with an exasperated sigh.

“Fine. Come here.”

Unexpectedly, Phainon just grinned, lounging back against the edge of the tub and pulling his human straight into his chest, between his legs. His larger frame completely enveloped Mydeimos, making him feel inexplicably smaller than he was. Phainon held him tenderly, almost reverently, as if afraid the warm body in his arms might vanish like mist if he loosened his grip.

The human’s ears turned pink. Then his neck followed suit.

“So, can you talk now?”

Phainon stifled a chuckle, utterly charmed by the valiant effort of the man nestled in his arms to keep his voice steady. He paused, as if sifting through his words with care, before speaking.

“Me. Carried. Flame.”

At first, Mydei didn’t get it. The way Phainon dragged out the word flame made it sound like he was carrying a whole lot of it. The image that conjured up wasn’t exactly… pleasant.

When Mydeimos stayed silent, the ghost raised both hands in front of them, miming an explosion about to go off. His voice took on that unfamiliar tone, half mocking, half bitter. A mockery aimed at no one but himself.

“Too. Hot. Couldn’t. Handle.”

And then—

“Boom.”

Please, don’t laugh. Phainon was trying so hard to be serious.

Mydei just stared up at the ghost’s chin, amber eyes wide, mind racing through some deeply concerning possibilities. Did he mean he actually exploded? From the inside out? Because that… didn’t sound medically survivable, even for a ghost. And it was hard to fathom that the scars criss crossing his body were remnants of… fire.

Still sitting in his lap, Mydei turned to face him fully, running both hands across the ghost’s marble-cold chest. Up close, he could see faint fractures across the pale skin like cracks in porcelain that refused to heal. Phainon didn’t speak. He only watched his lover’s careful touch in silence. He should’ve felt embarrassed, but all he felt now was nostalgia.

Once again, Phainon had bared a piece of himself to Mydei.

He couldn’t recall the last time the old him had held someone this close. Ha, who was he kidding? Of course he remembered every detail, crystal clear. Every loop, every cycle, every painstaking, agonizing repetition. The Deliverer of Okhema with his easy charm and overwhelming strength often gave the impression he wasn’t cut out for academics or memory feats. But that was before people realized he’d clinched ten consecutive debate wreaths for the Nousporists and outwitted the Sage in a Great Debate.

Phainon had been a stellar student once, a formidable force in the natural sciences. Those distant memories weighed heavy on his heart. He could still picture that white-haired youth, perched at a classroom desk, utterly engrossed in the lecture—

“Phainon.”

That voice again. Steady, grounding, familiar.

The tall ghost looked down and smiled, soft and wide, like moonlight rippling over still water.

Strange, wasn’t it? The curse of a perfect memory was how easily his thoughts wandered how effortlessly he could drown in the endless current of recollection. Was it pathetic, he wondered, to feel both joy and sorrow when remembering the past? Was that what people called living off nostalgia? Phainon didn’t know. All he knew was that Mydeimos was the only one who could ever pull him out of that dark, sinking mire.

“Stop thinking so much. I’m here now.”

Phainon’s cold arms slid around Mydei’s back, pulling him into a fierce embrace, his head dropping to nestle in the crook of his lover’s shoulder. The water in the spacious tub rippled faintly. Strands of Phainon’s damp hair dripped, each droplet hitting the surface with a soft plink, plink.

“Mhm. Got. Dei.”

If not for Dei, he’d be gone. Truly gone.

The emptiness where Phainon’s eyes should have been stared into the tiled wall behind them. Thank the stars he had Mydeimos, right? Because what if he didn’t? What would become of him then? His pale hand moved almost unconsciously, sliding up to cradle the back of Mydei’s head, drawing him closer just a little more.

What if there had been no PoleMos600? Would Neikos496 have drowned in an abyss of unending hatred with his heart consumed by rage? He’d already sunk long past the point of return. After all, hatred was his nature. It always had been. It always would be.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Dei’s voice came steady and sure, like a promise carved in stone.

Phainon knew Mydeimos would want to know more, of course he would but communication had always been a wall between them, thick and high. One day, he’d tear it down. He’d master this strange new human language, learn to speak clearly, learn to say everything he meant to say.

For Dei, he’d try harder. Always.

They stayed that way for a long while, until the bathwater grew tepid and the night deepened around them.

Later, when Phainon once again pulled them both into bed, Mydei suddenly realized he’d forgotten something faintly important. Then again, maybe it wasn’t that important after all.

The white-haired ghost used to have a six-pointed sun tattoo on his neck. Now, for some reason, only three rays remained. Did he… erase it or something? Mydei’s thoughts drifted lazily as his eyelids began to droop. Well, can anyone blame him? It was far too easy to get sleepy in the arms of a giant ghost like this.

Maybe they should just call it a night.
And so they did.

That night was blissfully serene.

-

Today was another lazy weekend.

Well, ‘lazy’ might be overstating it for a senior in his final year before college. Between deadlines, assignments, and the endless mountain of projects, leisure was a myth. Life was just… life. It kept moving forward whether you liked it or not. Each day came and went in the same loop.

Unless, of course, you happened to live with a literal ghost.

For Mydei, studying the habits of a supernatural roommate had become a strange new hobby.

Whenever Mydeimos wasn’t on his phone, Phainon would ask to borrow it. And no, it wasn’t one of those ‘jealous lover checking your DMs' situations or the ghost scrolling through his baby pictures for blackmail material (though Mydei strongly suspected that too).

But all his guesses went up in smoke the moment he discovered what the white-haired ghost actually did with it.

Nope. All bets were off when Mydei discovered the big, good, white-haired ghost was borrowing his phone to play…Candy Crush Saga. And not just casually, the guy was dead serious about crushing that game.

“It’s just a puzzle game,” Mydei had muttered in disbelief after realizing Phainon had reached level 2691… in three days. Three. Days. That wasn’t gaming anymore, that was a spiritual pilgrimage. Absolutely unhinged.

And today was no different. While Mydei sat at his desk wrestling with English tenses, Phainon was sprawled across the sofa, laser-focused on matching colorful candies like his afterlife depended on it. The human shook his head, half amused, half exasperated, telling himself he’d check later to see if the ghost had broken through the 3000-level barrier.

Everything was perfectly normal until the doorbell rang.

They had… a visitor.

Mydei froze mid-sentence, pen hovering above paper. Since he lived alone, visitors were practically extinct. Friends rarely dropped by, and he hadn’t ordered anything online lately. Maybe someone rang the wrong doorbell?

Just as he moved to stand, Phainon zoomed to his side like a whirlwind, thrusting the phone in Mydei’s face with a look of panic far more intense than his usual theatrics.

Mydei glanced at the screen, and his amber eyes widened.

[Mom]: I’m right outside your door :>

[Mom]: Surprise visit. Are you home?

Utter silence fell upon both of them.

Mydei stared at the texts, then flicked his gaze up to the white bandage obscuring Phainon’s eyes.

Everything would be fine… right?