Chapter 5: The Ghost Revealed

I was still catching my breath when I looked up—and saw someone sitting on my bed. The outline was clearer than ever, as if the moonlight had thickened around him. My skin crawled. I screamed and tried to run, but the door wouldn’t budge. Instinct took over—I grabbed my phone and called Natalie.

She answered, panicked. "Quick! Install the poplar wood threshold, then bite your finger and drip three drops of blood on it. Bow three times, your head hitting the wood—bang, bang, bang. It’ll stabilize things!"

"But the ghost’s already inside—what’s the point?"

"Don’t ask, just do it! There’s no time!"

I looked—the ghost was right in front of me. The room grew icy, my breath clouding in the air. The moonlight flickered, shadows stretching across the floor. I grabbed the poplar wood threshold and swung it at him, but it passed straight through.

Natalie’s voice was frantic. "Bite your finger, smear blood on the threshold!"

I did it, then swung again.

Bang! The ghost vanished.

Natalie shouted, "Quick, set up the threshold!"

I scrambled, installing the threshold, dripping blood, bowing three times—my head smacking the wood with a bang, bang, bang.

I held my breath and looked around.

Natalie said, "Don’t worry. He’s blocked outside now."

Relief flooded me. I told Natalie everything. She scolded me for falling for their trap.

"This was all a setup by the old man and the ghost! They made your roommates lose their beds—there’s no such thing as reversing shoes confusing ghosts. If your roommates were really ghosts, they’d have killed you already. When Lillian shouted about a ghost, she saw the male ghost behind you—not you!"

I felt so stupid. But I still didn’t get what the old man and the ghost wanted.

Natalie explained, "The old man’s a ghost-refining master. That guy is his ghost. Your dorm’s perfect for refining ghosts. Once he refines five, he can sell them to the rich—that’s the legendary ‘Five Ghosts Carrying Wealth.’ The old man tricked you into using a Ghost Gate Threshold to lure out a fierce ghost for refining—to create a tycoon!"

My jaw dropped. There was a whole supernatural business behind this.

Suddenly, flashes from those TV shows about psychic millionaires and haunted fortunes made sense. Maybe it wasn’t all fiction after all.

Luckily, I hadn’t betrayed Natalie. She told me, "Every day, drip three drops of blood on the poplar threshold, bow three times—your head must hit the wood. After three days, the Ghost Gate will be sealed, and the danger will pass."

I wrote it on a Post-It and stuck it to my phone. I wasn’t taking any more chances.