Chapter 13: Closer, I’m here.
The fake shaman chuckled with glee, licking her thumb as she counted the bills from her last client.
"He didn't even try to bargain," she giggled, pulling more bills from a pocket inside her long black dress and adding them to her haul. "Ahh... today is a good day. I should close early."
Satisfied with the day's earnings, she placed a hand on her back and stretched before rising from her seat.
The ghost watching her was not pleased, glaring at the fake shaman with a deep, lingering grudge. "This bitch..."
Just then, as the old woman was about to close shop, a figure suddenly appeared at the entrance.
"Ah!" Startled, the fake shaman clutched her chest, her heart nearly leaping out of her ribs. "Oh my—! That scared me."
Standing just outside was a man in a suit. His complexion was pale, and the dark bags under his eyes were pronounced. When he finally looked up, his eyes appeared dimmer than most—hollow, almost lifeless. His gaze, however, still didn't meet hers.
"Mister, I'm already closing," the shaman frowned. "You can come back tomorrow. I've exhausted my clairvoyance and can't push myself further."
But the man didn't move. He didn't speak. He didn't even stare at her — just eyes downcast, silent and still.
"Mister, just come back tomorrow, alright?" she stressed, furrowing her thick brows as the man continued to stare at her feet.
For a moment, she gazed down. A sliver of unease began to creep into her chest. He didn't look frightened like most clients. If anything, he looked... dead. Not just on the inside.