Part 3Haunted Roommate: She's the Ghost Who Babysits Me

The fear only lasted a second. The next, the anger that came with being broke rushed in and took over.

I shoved my phone screen toward the shadowy figure, making sure the "380 dollars" on it were clear. "I'm telling you, you're paying for this!"

I stuck my neck out like I was ready to die on this hill. "Look at this—it's 380 dollars. Do you know how much I make a month? After rent and utilities, I'm basically living off air.

"You're here every day doing your little home-renovation projects, cooking, and moving things with your mind. All of that takes a toll on my electricity, alright? On what planet do you not pay your share?"

The dark mass in front of me visibly paused. The flickering light snapped back to normal. The room didn't feel quite so icy anymore.

That icy voice rang out in my head again. But this time, there was a hint of… grievance. "I don't have any money."

I was so exasperated that I almost let out a derisive laugh. "Oh, so you're broke and proud of it now?"

I held my arms across my chest and launched straight into lecture mode. "Listen to me, Ivy. We're roommates now, and roommates settle things clearly. You're living in my apartment and using my electricity—I think it's fair that you're cooking for me to offset rent. But you can't go over the top with power usage!

"From now on, we're going green. Cut down on energy use. Don't leave the TV on for no reason, and stop making such complicated meals. Two dishes and a soup are plenty. Also, no more randomly materializing to scare people, especially my coworkers. Emotional damages are expensive."

I went on and on like that.

Ivy didn't move; she just stayed there and listened quietly. When I finally finished, she slowly retreated back into the shadowy corner of the wall. Then, a word echoed in my head. "Okay."

I heaved a huge sigh of relief, feeling like I'd just pulled off some epic negotiation. Collecting debt from a ghost—I was probably the first person in history to do it.

From that day on, Ivy really did start going green. The TV stopped turning itself on in the middle of the night; dinner went from three dishes and a soup down to two dishes and a soup. The spread was simpler, but the taste was still just as amazing.

Our "cohabitation" slipped into this bizarre kind of harmony. Every day when I got off work and came home, there was always a hot meal waiting on the table. The apartment was always spotless.

I started buying her offerings—paper dresses and paper makeup sets. There was a local belief that burning these offerings would deliver them to the dead.

I had no idea if Ivy actually needed any of it. It just made me feel better. Each time I burned the offerings, I would mutter, "Here's some pocket money, Ivy. Buy whatever you want, alright? Don't hold back."

I couldn't see her, but I could feel the air in the apartment growing softer and warmer.

…

Ever since the night he got scared off, Rick hadn't stopped giving me the evil eye at work.

He didn't dare tell anyone about the vase incident. It sounded way too insane; no one would've believed him, anyway. But he started tripping me up at every turn on the job.

One day, our director, Stan Walker, handed our team a rush project and told us to deliver a full proposal within three days. The team lead split up the work and assigned the most critical data analysis section to Rick and me.

Right in front of everyone, Rick flashed a fake smile and said, "Leo, you've got more experience with this part, so I'll let you take the lead. I've got an important dinner tonight, so I might need to leave early."

Then, he actually clocked out on the dot and strutted off, dumping the whole mess squarely on me.