Thorne was a force of nature.

Or atleast, that was what their coworkers called them.

They were the type of person who would attract attention wherever they went, sharp and cold and confident. To put it plainly, they were 'someone who had their crap together'.

So, when Thorne walked into their office on a gray Monday morning, you better believe that they were not happy to be told that they would be taking on a project that was considered to be bottom of the barrel.

“Mx. Gray, I assure you, the owners are paying us very good money for this project, and will be extremely good for your portfolio.” Their project manager, Mrs. Olienne, crossed her arms over the top of her desk as she leaned forward.

“I signed up for this company because I was assured I would be given quality projects that match my skill set and experience,” Thorne leveled her with a stare, icy and composed. “Renovating a… derelict fossil that could barely count as a mansion, is not part of what I signed up for.”

“But it is. So long as you work for this company, you have to take on projects that it accepts, regardless of your feelings on the matter.”

Seeing the glare they were sending her way, she let out a deep sigh. “Thorne, you know me. I hold myself to a standard as well, and I can assure you that I see potential in this project. This mansion has the chance to become a landmark, propelling us to even greater heights.”

She leaned forward and stared at Thorne, her eyes searching all over their face.

“And I know you. I know you will be able to deliver all that I ask of you. I know that you are the person who can bring to life what I envision.”

Thorne pursed their lips, thinking.

They knew what they wanted in life, and if taking this project was putting them one step closer to their goal, then…

“Alright.”

Ms. Olienne was visibly relieved.

And with that, Thorne made their way to the site an hour or so later, armed with a notebook, pen, and the schematics of the 'mansion'.

And it really was a piece of work.

The first thing Thorne noticed when they stepped out of their car, was the overgrown lawn that ran all around the place.

The second was the gray and rotting structure that could barely pass itself as a mansion.

Thorne could admit that their project manager had a good eye when she called this place a potential hotspot.

The mansion overlooked a large lake, and shared some of its land with a forest. The owners, who were planning to keep this as a holiday home, were bound to come to love this place.

Brushing off their tailored suit, Thorne carefully made their way into the overgrowth, being careful not to get caught up in any of the plants and mucking up their clothes.

They really should have gotten a team together so that they could actually traverse the grounds safely instead of whatever they were doing right now, but there wasn't enough time for them to get anyone else, and this was a personal survey anyways, so they didn't want to take up unpaid time. They knew how annoying that could be.

When they finally made it to the front door, they stopped to observe the building in full.

The paint was washed out and peeling at places, the wooden flooring of the main patio looked weak and unstable. The large windows were all boarded up, and the little bit of the roof that was visible was missing a few shingles. It was also very tall, instead of long.

They pulled out their smartphone and searched up the mansion's blueprints.

Directly left from the entry foyer was a dining room, adjacent to a small powder room. Right in front was the living room, and mirroring that was the kitchen and family room. Behind the kitchen was a pantry, leading to a utility room. Nestled in between the kitchen and the living room was a public bathroom.

The other side consists of a large study with an adjoined washroom, and a guest bedroom. At the very back, were the doors to the currently overgrown back patio.

This entire floor was for entertaining guests, and was where the family would have most of their more 'official' dinners.

The second floor had the bedroom, three to be exact. One master bedroom and two single person bedrooms, all with their own bathrooms. They all surrounded the loft, which was the empty space that you would come to when you went up the stairs that were tucked away at the back of the dining room. Adjacent to the loft you had another study that the owners wanted to convert into a playroom.

All the bedrooms also had balconies, albeit of varying sizes, with the loft having a covered balcony that looked out onto the back patio.

Then, going up a half level would lead to a less formal family space, with a tiny kitchenette and dinette, a craft room and utilities room, and a small in-home-theater.

For Thorne, this nearly wasn't enough for them. They were much more used to grander spaces, but they would swallow their pride just this once.

They would also ignore the fact that the mansion was in disrepair because the last owner was killed here.

Thorne wasn't scared of ghosts. That would be absolutely preposterous.

They didn't believe in the supernatural and fantastical, how could they be afraid of something that doesn't even exist?

And the idea of going inside to check exactly how much damage the mansion had sustained did not make their skin crawl and their forehead sweat.

They definitely did not delay the inevitable by scouring the blueprints for any and every place a ghost could pop out from, and they definitely did not zoom into the dining area on the first floor, where the previous owner's body was found.

Thorne was brave, they were strong. They would not be defeated by something like fear.

So, Thorne entered the building, completely unperturbed, only to flinch when the floorboards underneath their feet creaked.

Thorne was extremely scared of ghosts. There was no rhyme or reason for this fear, they had experienced this fear since they were a child, and they could not get rid of it.

But Thorne was a strong, independent person. They could get through this, just like any other trouble in life.

And it went well. They circled the entire building, finding moth-eaten furniture and dusty corners. They were able to note down places to improve, additions to make, and even possible styling choices. They might even be able to squeeze in an elevator.

They had just carefully made their way down the creaky but stable steps when they saw it.

A figure, standing in the middle of the dining room.

Staring straight at them.

Thorne shrieked and almost fell down the stairs in their haste to get back.

The figure, unbeknownst to her, also stepped back in shock, but this made Thorne even more scared.

Because the figure stepped through the table.

It took an immense amount of willpower for Thorne not to black out then and there, but when they looked back, they found that the figure was still there.

“W-Who a-a-re you?” Thorne sobbed through their fear, causing the figure- the man- to look a tad bit ashamed.

“Ah, I apologize for startling you, usually people aren't really able to see me,”

The handsome man then bowed, poised and elegant. “I am Lord Callister Von Alphinard, the owner of this mansion.” He grimaced as he straightened, “Though, I suppose it would be more accurate to say former owner.”

Thorne had managed to compose themselves during the man's introduction, enough for them to somewhat process the person in front of them.

Sir Alphinard, with his stylish and tailored suit, fitted pants, shiny shoes and perfectly coiffed hair, was indeed the spitting image of the person who had owned this mansion over a hundred years ago.

“I-I see,” Thorne shakily stood from their place on the stairs, “I am Thorne Gray, the architect sent to renovate this mansion for the new owners. You may refer to me as Mx. Gray.”

The man mouthed the unfamiliar courtesy title, but seemed to take it in stride. “A pleasure to meet you, Mx. Gray. I assure you that I take no offense to your presence.”

“Right.” Thorne nodded absentmindedly, mystified that they were talking to someone long gone.

They shook themselves out of their stupor and got back onto the matter at hand.

“My apologies if this is a rude question, but how are you…”

Sir Alphinard caught onto the implication quickly enough, but didn't seem too bothered. “I was murdered by my valet! Can you believe it!? Even after all those years, no one had ever caught him!”

He seemed to transform into a completely different person when he threw up his hands and started complaining, and Thorne just looked upon the image in awe.

“It was such a sloppy job, too! You would think that any of the kitchen staff would know something was off when a valet came in to get my food, but no one batted an eye!”

They just nodded along with the other's tangent. It was obvious how pent-up he was after his death.

“-My valet! Who had no business being in the kitchens! Which makes me think- What if- What if they were in on it!? What if-”

“A-Alright. How about we calm down now?” Thorne tried to do damage control.

“Calm down!? My dear, I am dead!” Thorne failed to do damage control.

“How about this? I will work with you to find you justice.”

Sir Alphinard looked at them, his earlier childish display giving way to something icier and more composed.

“Why?”

Thorne straightened.

This was something they could do. Something they had done countless times.

“I am a skilled and experienced architect, but none of my designs have had the chance to make it to a wider audience,” Thorne looked him in the eyes, back straight, gaze steady. “This is my chance to prove myself once and for all. It is the only reason I took on this project.”

“And our goals align, how?” He questioned drily, walking over to take a seat on the rotten chair.

They eyed him, idly wondering how he was doing so, “Because this project can't be called successful if a ghost is running around, unhindered.”

Sir Alphinard smiled, “And how would you help me?”

That was the question, wasn't it? Thorne was never a believer, and their friends and colleagues weren't that invested in the supernatural either, but…

“I can see you.” They concluded. “If I can see you, then others should be able to, or might have similar abilities. I am very well connected, if I search hard enough, I have no doubt I would be able to find someone. Worst comes to worst, I will find ways to help you myself.”

“How ambitious.”

“I tend to get called that, yes.”

The man leaned back on the backrest, regardless of the fact that such an action would have already collapsed the already crumbling chair as he pondered.

They made their way over to him, forgoing the chairs and standing a polite distance away.

The Lord then looked up and smiled, “Alright, I have nothing to lose, I'm afraid.”

“Mmh. Pleasure doing business with you,” Thorne reached their hand out for a handshake, but before they could take back their mistake, the other had reached over and taken it.

“Pleasure doing business with you. And please, call me Callister.”

The sensation of shaking hands with a ghost was fairly normal, albeit a bit too cold.

Thorne was fine with it.

“Likewise, Thorne.”

The cover image was created in Canva!