Days flowed quietly, like the calm before a storm, until at last, the long-anticipated night arrived—
The new moon.
Rudra, Amirtha, and Junoo had declared the day a holiday for their staff,
ensuring that no guests remained and every room stood vacant.
The trio spent the entire day inside the mansion,
roaming its halls, checking every floor, corner, and room with heightened senses.
Though they found no unusual signs during daylight, each tick of the clock pulled the veil of night closer, thickening the air with a quiet tension.
Now, as darkness swallowed the last sliver of twilight and the moonless sky settled above,
the hotel stood still—
Its usual warmth was replaced by a haunting stillness.
Wind whispered through the trees outside.
Lights flickered once, then steadied.
In the dining hall, Rudra stood near the window, his hand resting on the cool glass, eyes fixed on the black horizon.
"It's time,"
He murmured.
Suddenly, the clear new moon sky darkened as thick clouds rolled in unnaturally fast, swallowing the stars above.
Like it was not a clear sky a moment ago.
Howl~ Whip~
Howl~ Whip~
The air, once still, began to whip and howl, winds howling as if carrying voices of the forgotten.
A chill swept through the mansion like a creeping mist,
causing the lights to flicker and the wooden walls to groan under an unseen pressure.
Inside the Highland Leaf,
the atmosphere changed in an instant—
It became cold all of a sudden.
Then it came.
Hahaha~
"____"
Laughter. High-pitched.
Echoing. Unearthly.
It danced through the corridors like a haunting melody—
playful, yet twisted.
The sound of rapid footsteps followed,
the unmistakable patter of someone running barefoot across the wooden floor.
Thud. Thud.
Chim. Chim.
Accompanying it was the delicate, eerie chim chim of anklets—soft, metallic, rhythmic, and hauntingly familiar.
Junoo froze mid-step.
Gulp~
"Did you hear that?"
She whispered.
Amirtha slowly turned toward the stairwell with narrowed eyes.
"That's… a woman's laugh."
Rudra's eyes narrowed.
He felt a pressure on his chest—
As if something had awoken inside the mansion.
The wind outside grew louder, as if the very walls were being tested.
"No guests,"
Rudra said, voice low but steady.
"No workers. That laugh… shouldn't exist."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small talisman glowing faintly with protective runes.
Which guru, Arvind, has sent him through a parcel this morning for protection.
"Junoo, be ready... Amirtha, stay close. Whatever that is—it's not human. So be ready if necessary, use the Astra power you have."
And just then—
BANG!—
A door upstairs slammed open, followed by another burst of mad laughter and the scraping sound of something being dragged across the floor.
Clearly hearing the woman's mad, echoing laughter from above,
Rudra's expression hardened.
"____"
Gulp~
Without a word, a radiant golden aura erupted around him—
bright and fierce, like sunlight piercing through darkness.
His presence alone changed the atmosphere, the ancient power of his incompleated Brahmastra humming like a storm about to break loose.
Amirtha stepped beside him, water gathering at her fingertips, swirling gently but purposefully.
Her Jal Astra was ready to be unleashed, droplets forming midair as her body adapted instinctively to defend.
Though she was older and had fought many foes, this was her first time confronting something...
Unnatural.
A spirit. A ghost.
Her heartbeat quickened—
But her resolve held strong.
Junoo, ever mischievous yet fearless, stood on Rudra's other side.
Her eyes gleamed red as shimmering threads of illusion weaved around her.
Her Maya Astra sparked, ready to manipulate perception and light at a moment's notice.
"Let's see what kind of ghost likes to play tag,"
She muttered, trying to keep the mood light.
The trio moved up the stairs slowly, every creaking step filled with tension.
The air on the top floor was unnaturally heavy—
cold and damp like the breath of something.
The once-familiar corridor now stretched unnaturally long in their perception.
Shadows crawled across the walls, flickering like candlelight despite no fire in sight.
Suddenly,
BANG!
Another door flew open ahead of them, and that maddening laughter burst out again—
closer now, and even more frenzied.
Amirtha shivered.
"Damn... Is this ghost crazy?"
Rudra stepped forward, golden energy crackling around his hands.
"Let her. We're not here to run—we're here to finish it."
From the far end of the corridor,
a figure emerged slowly from the shadows:
A woman in tattered bridal garments, her face hidden by a long veil, anklets chiming with every step… and behind her, two crimson eyes glowing like embers.
The corridor trembled with a cold, unnatural energy as the ghostly woman vanished and reappeared behind Rudra like a shadow dancing through time.
Rudra, reacting on pure instinct, turned and struck where she had appeared—his punch meeting only mist and air.
THUD!
His golden aura flared brighter for a moment, revealing nothing but fading tendrils of ghostly vapour.
Then, from behind once more, the woman's shrill voice echoed:
"This is my house! How dare you try to take it from me!"
She stood again in her original position, the dim hallway lights flickering around her torn bridal veil, her anklets chiming like a cursed lullaby.
"____"
Rudra gritted his teeth, his eyes locked on her every movement.
Amirtha, now more composed despite the unnatural chill seeping into her bones, stepped forward and asked with a firm voice:
"Who are you?"
The woman's head tilted slowly, the veil swaying.
Then, she answered, her tone soaked in both pain and fury:
"My name… was Helean."
A silence followed, thick with dread.
"You dare step into my halls… after everything they did… after how they locked me away…?"
She added, her voice growing distorted, flickering between human and something far more twisted.
Rudra, Amirtha, and Junoo stood ready—
Unsure if they were facing a ghost clinging to pain, or something darker pretending to be one.
The golden aura dimmed slightly, not from weakness—
But from restraint.
He stared at the ghostly woman, Helean, as her presence radiated sorrow twisted into rage, like a wound left to fester for decades.
The cold wind brushed against his face as he took a step forward.
His voice was calm but edged with steel.
"Helean…"
He said, drawing her attention.
She turned her head slightly, the glowing crimson eyes beneath her veil flickering.
"Was it you? The one responsible for the deaths here before—the previous owner, the missing guests…?"
The corridor fell silent.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Even the chiming of her anklets ceased.
Then, slowly… she nodded.
Nod~
"Yes."
Her voice was quieter this time.
"I warned them. I told them this was my home. But they wouldn't listen. They laughed. They tried to drive me out. They called me mad…"
Her voice twisted again, a shriek rising from deep within her chest.
"So I made them listen."
The lights flickered violently.
Junoo took a defensive step closer to Rudra.
Amirtha's hands remained half-raised, water magic humming faintly at her fingertips.
But Rudra didn't move.
He stared at her—
not as a ghost or a monster—
But as someone shattered by the weight of her own story.
"Then tell me, Helean… What happened to you? Why are you still here?"
Helean hovered in place, the shadows curling around her tattered bridal veil like protective tendrils.
Though her voice was ghostly soft, every word echoed through the corridor with chilling clarity.
"You're not like the others."
She said, tilting her head as her crimson eyes lingered on Rudra, Amirtha, and Junoo.
"You're… dangerous. That strike you landed…"
— She looked directly at Rudra —
"It sent me to the edge… I almost crossed over."
She floated backwards, her gaze sharpening.
Thinking about the punch.
"But I'm still here. I won't leave until they pay."
Amirtha narrowed her eyes.
"They? Who do you mean?"
Helean slowly raised an arm, pointing downward—
toward the lower levels of the hotel.
"The ones who built this place on my grief. The man who claimed he bought it fairly. The 'owners' who treated me like a cursed story. They didn't know the blood they were standing on."
A gust of wind rushed through, and the lights flickered again.
"The first one... the fool who called himself the rightful owner..."
She hissed,
"mocked the stories. Said I was just a superstition. He slept in my room. I warned him. But one night, he leaned too far out the window, laughing at the wind like it was some joke…"
She smiled, cruel and mournful.
"His head caught between the iron grills. Snapped. Then he fell. They called it an accident. But it wasn't."
Junoo's breath caught.
Rudra clenched his jaw.
"And the others?"
Rudra asked, steady but grave.
"They came, one by one. Ignored the signs. Thought they could just paint over pain, sweep my voice into dust. I made sure they heard me. But it was never enough. None of them stayed long enough to understand."
Helean's form flickered.
The hatred was strong—
But beneath it, so was the grief.
"I was waiting… for someone who could help me."
She turned her gaze to them again.
"Maybe… that's finally you."
And then Helean started to explain what type of help she wanted.
"____"
"____"
The air fell into a tense,
surreal silence as Helean's list echoed through the grand, ghostly corridors of the hotel.
Rudra's Brahmastra's golden aura flickered slightly—
not from power, but from sheer disbelief.
His lips twitched again, fighting the urge to react with anything more than a long, tired sigh.
He took a step back, folded his arms, and quietly muttered,
Sigh~
"…What kind of unfinished business is this?"
Amirtha blinked once.
Then twice.
She slowly turned her head toward Junoo.
Puff~
Junoo, wide-eyed and trying not to laugh or scream, simply held up an imaginary stamp with a serious expression and said under her breath,
"AGMARK virgin... certified."
Even Helean tilted her head, as if unsure whether she should feel offended or flattered.
Amirtha cleared her throat, trying to bring some level of sanity to the bizarre situation.
"Okay. Let me get this straight. You need proof of the first owner's death—understandable. But then you want… a full romantic experience? Including a date, a kiss, a marriage, and then…"
She paused, shooting a helpless glance at Rudra,
"…that?"
Helean didn't flinch.
Her voice was calm, yet deeply mournful.
"I was murdered before I ever felt love. Before I even touched someone's hand like that. I watched others live, laugh, kiss, marry, and move on while I rotted in this house. I deserve what was stolen."
The bitterness in her tone silenced the sarcasm and tension in the air.
Even Rudra straightened slightly, sensing the deep sorrow wrapped beneath her awkward demands.
Still, he coughed and mumbled,
Cough~ Cough~
"Right… Well. That's… a quest with multiple stages."
Junoo whispered,
Chuckle~
"We're going to need a very brave volunteer for the later ones…"
Amirtha rubbed her forehead.
"Let's… just start with the first one, okay? Finding out about the mansion's original owner. Step by step."
Helean nodded, her veil shifting with a ghostly breeze.
"Very well. But know this… if you break your promise—this mansion shall never be at peace."
Rudra sighed once more, reaching for his phone.
Sigh~
"Great. From demon hunts to ghostly matchmaking... But tell me how you died?"
The moment Rudra asked about her past, Helean grew quiet.
Her form flickered faintly as the corridor dimmed, shadows crawling like old memories rising from deep graves.
The air grew dense, and the temperature dropped as her voice echoed softly:
"You want to know why I haunt this place?"
Flashback...
1947...
Ooty, a week before India's independence...
The lush green hills rolled under the sun,
Dotted with rows of workers plucking leaves from the vast tea estates owned by Lawrence Smith, a man known not for his wealth, but for his cruelty.
A staunch racist,
Lawrence believed the native workers were less than human, punishing them harshly even for minor mistakes.
Whips, public beatings, and starvation—
These were common under his reign.
His wife, Maria Lawrence, was his opposite:
Gentle, devout, and kind.
The estate workers respected her deeply, often turning to her in secret when hurt.
Their daughter, Helean, grew up under both shadows—
her father's cruelty and her mother's compassion.
She favoured her mother's path,
reading romantic books, dreaming of love, peace, and a life far away from her father's harsh world.
But dreams are often at odds with reality.
One day,
Lawrence declared his daughter would be married to John Liver.
a British officer's son working under him.
Helean had only spoken to John twice, and both times, she had felt the cold pride and arrogance in his words.
He was just like her father—
strict, unemotional, and disdainful of the local people.
Despite her pleas and her mother's gentle protests, Lawrence wouldn't budge.
"This marriage is good for the family. Your emotions are irrelevant."
He had snapped.
August 13, 1947 –
Wedding Day...
The large colonial mansion was decorated in full bloom.
Candlelight flickered across the polished wooden floors as guests whispered and the priest began the ceremony.
Helean stood there in her white bridal gown, her heart heavy, her smile forced.
Just as the priest raised his hand to begin the vows,
three British officers entered the hall, walking quickly toward John.
They whispered urgently into his ear.
A shift came over John's face—
His expression twisted into something cold and deadly.
Without hesitation, John pulled out a pistol.
Gasps filled the room.
Before anyone could react, he turned to Lawrence Smith and shot him in the chest.
The once-dominating father fell back, blood staining the marble floor.
Then came Maria—
She had run toward her husband in shock, only for the second bullet to strike her heart.
She fell into her daughter's arms.
Ahhhh~
Frozen in horror, Helean screamed.
John slowly walked up to her.
"Your father was a traitor to the Crown. He betrayed the Empire by leaking secrets to the rebels. This is justice."
"My mother?"
She cried, trembling.
"Collateral."
He pointed the gun at her chest.
She backed away, slipping in her mother's blood, tears streaming down her face.
"You… you said you loved me,"
She whispered.
He leaned forward coldly.
"I lied."
The gun roared one last time.
Her world went dark.
Flashback Ends...
Back to the Present…
Helean stood silent after the tale, her veil fluttering slightly as if stirred by phantom winds.
Rudra clenched his fists, jaw tight.
Junoo looked shaken, barely able to process the betrayal and murder.
Amirtha slowly stepped forward, her voice heavy with emotion.
"You never got justice… But why would he kill your father? By what you have said, your father is clearly a racist. No offence... I don't see him helping someone who he consider's inferior to him and his ass..."
Helean nodded.
"I was just a tool in someone else's game. Even in death, I was forgotten. That's why I can't move on."
Rudra took a breath and said with resolve,
"Then we'll find the truth."
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review!!! And power stone!!!
Which will motivate me more.