The Mark For Curse

Author' s pov

The night wrapped itself around the old villa like a thick, velvet curtain. Outside, the wind whispered through the tangled branches of the overgrown trees, making them tap gently against the dusty windows. The moon peeked through drifting clouds, casting pale silver light over the roof.

Inside, the kitchen lights flickered once—like a nervous blink—but quickly stayed steady. Warm yellow light filled the room. Freen stood at the stove, humming a random tune to herself, flipping something golden and crispy in a pan. The smell of garlic and herbs floated in the air.

Nam (walking in and sniffing the air) – Don’t tell me you’re cooking extra again... for the ghosts.

Freen didn’t even turn around. She just smirked.

Freen – I’m not just cooking. I’m ghost-hosting.

Nam narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

Nam – Are you trying to impress the ghosts now?

Freen (with a sly grin) – Maybe. I’m trying to impress Becky.

Nam stared at her like she’d grown a second head.

Nam – You’re impossible. You’ve got a crush on a ghost girl!

Freen – So what? Is there a rule somewhere that says you can’t have a ghost crush?

Nam – Yeah. It’s in the “You Need Therapy” rulebook. Page one.

Freen laughed and went back to her cooking.

Nam – Honestly, the moment you start setting a plate for her, I’m calling an exorcist.

Freen – Good. I’ll ask him for dating tips.

---

Meanwhile...

Up in the shadows near the ceiling, hidden from view, two ghostly figures floated just out of sight. Becky and Irin watched the scene play out with curious eyes, barely making a sound.

Irin (whispering) – Did she just say... she’s trying to impress you?

Becky (arms crossed, unimpressed) – She’s flirty. That’s all.

Irin (grinning) – Yeah, but the only person she’s flirting with... is you.

Becky rolled her eyes and looked away, but her cheeks had a faint pink glow, like moonlight touching pale clouds.

Irin – You’re blushing!

Becky – shut up irin!!

-----
Later that night...

Freen and Nam walked down the creaky hallway toward the guest rooms. The wooden floor groaned under their feet with every step.

Nam – Okay, I’m calling dibs on the left side of the bed.

Freen – Who said you’re sleeping here?

Nam (confused) – Huh? Then where am I supposed to sleep?

Freen – In the room next door. I’m not sharing with a bed-kicker.

Nam – I do not kick in my sleep!

Freen – You kick, scream, and mumble weird stuff. I’m not risking it.

Nam – What if a ghost eats me in the middle of the night?

Freen – Then I’ll thank them and offer dessert.

Nam – I hope the ghost cuddles you  tonight.

Freen – Honestly? I hope so too.

Nam stormed off dramatically, muttering under her breath, while Freen strolled into her room like nothing happened.

Nam – One ghost crush and she forgets her real friend...

Freen strolled into her room like nothing happened.

---

Downstairs...

The quiet night hummed with a strange peace. The table in the dining area still held the leftover food Freen had made earlier. The warm smell lingered in the air.

Becky and Irin floated down the stairs silently, their translucent forms barely making a sound.

Irin (teasing) – You’re going to eat again?

Becky – I can’t help it. It smells really good...

Irin – Mhm. Or maybe you’re just looking for an excuse to eat something she made.

Becky ignored her, picked up a fork, and took a bite. Her eyes widened.

Becky – Okay, fine. She’s a good cook. Happy?

Irin – Very. Now tell me when the wedding is.

Becky scowled, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

---

Back upstairs...

The room was dim, lit only by the silver moonlight sneaking through the sheer curtains. Dust floated gently in the air, swirling with each breath of wind.

Freen was fast asleep now, curled up under the thick blanket. But what caught the most attention was what she was holding—not a pillow, not a teddy bear—but the old photo of Becky. Her arms were wrapped around it like it was something precious.

She had pulled it close to her chest, her fingers still gently gripping the wooden frame. A soft smile played on her lips, like she was dreaming of someone she liked. In her sleep, she whispered something barely audible:

Freen – Becky...

High above in the room...

Becky and Irin had drifted through the wall silently, hovering near the ceiling again. They watched in silence at first, their eyes focused on the sleeping girl hugging the photo.

Irin (snorting) – Is she... hugging your photo??

Becky didn’t answer. Her ghostly cheeks had the faintest glow.

Irin – Oh my god. She’s literally sleeping like you're her long-lost lover.

Becky (softly) – Shut up.

Irin – No seriously. Look at her. That smile. That cuddle. She’s head over heels.

Becky crossed her arms and looked away, trying to hide the little smirk threatening to break through.

Irin (floating closer to her) – You like it, don’t you?

Becky – She’s weird. And dramatic. And annoying.

Irin – And totally into you.

Becky didn’t respond. She stared down at Freen quietly, her expression softening. Her ghostly fingers brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as if unsure what to feel.

Irin (gently teasing now) – You’re flattered. And she made you garlic toast.

Becky – ...Fine. I’m 5% charmed. Maybe 10.

Irin – That’s it. I’m planning your ghost wedding. Do we go with haunted white or spooky pastels?

Becky – I swear I’ll haunt you.

Irin (grinning) – Already happening.

They watched Freen for a moment longer, the peaceful rise and fall of her breathing filling the room with a strange warmth. Something about it felt… different. Like maybe, just maybe, this visitor was not like the others.

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