Chapter 46: Don’t Come Over!
The ghost was relentless, chasing Lance and Misha as if determined to kill them in the forest.
Lance, of course, wouldn’t give it the chance.
To him, a common ghost couldn’t compare to the horror of an Archdemon. He could toy with Ashby at will, so what was a ghost to him?
And the closer the ghost pressed, the more certain Misha became of one thing.
Although it was scary, it really didn’t have much ability to hurt anyone.
Almost every time it appeared, before it could even strike a scary pose, Lance would dispel it with a slash of his sword. It didn’t have time to make a second move. They forcibly drove it all the way back to the front of the wooden hut.
Yes, they drove the ghost back to the hut.
Misha had not expected this development at all.
He clutched Lance’s arm the entire time, hiding behind him, feeling like a burden restricting Lance’s movements. Yet Lance hit the ghost with every strike. Misha couldn’t tell if Lance was too strong or the ghost was too weak. It wasn’t until they reached the hut that he managed to poke his head out and whisper tremblingly, “I think—”
Lance glanced at him sideways.
Whoosh. The ghost appeared right behind Misha, sticking close. The icy chill against his skin frightened Misha into a scream. Without thinking, he slapped backward, flames erupting from his fingertips and piercing through the ghost’s phantom form.
The ghost screamed too. Torn apart by Misha’s fire, it was reduced to a wisp of smoke and vanished into the air.
Lance: “…”
Ruthless.
That move was much more ruthless than him.
But when he looked down, he saw Misha shivering and trembling with fear.
“…Too scary,” Misha said with his eyes closed, daring not to recall the terror of the ghost being right in his face. “Let’s… let’s never take this kind of mission again.”
Lance: “…”
Lance couldn’t resist raising his hand and gently patting Misha’s head.
Lance: “Nice hit.”
Misha: “…”
He shrank back uneasily, trying to avoid Lance’s hand.
He really didn’t like Lance touching his head. A mere… a mere human! How dare he put his hand on the Demon King’s head! Not to mention, when Lance’s hand touched the spot where he hid his horns, he always felt a strange sensation.
It felt tingly and itchy where the horns were hidden, making him want to release them the next moment.
No, I can’t expose myself in front of a human.
I’m not a puppy or a kitten; how could being patted on the head feel comfortable?
So Misha leaned back, trying hard to avoid Lance’s hand, yet unwilling to let go of Lance’s arm lest the annoying ghost appear again. His posture was strange and awkward. Lance paused for a moment, then could only sigh helplessly and look back at the wooden hut in front of them.
“This is it,” Lance said. “Let’s go in.”
Misha: “…”
Misha suddenly remembered a major issue.
Before they came, the farmer hadn’t given them a key.
Although the wooden hut before them was old and dilapidated, the structure seemed sound enough, with no gaping holes for them to crawl through.
The ghost could walk through walls and move in and out freely, but for them, this was a big problem.
Maybe they should circle the house and look for another entrance.
But Lance had already walked up to the door and even bent down to look at the lock.
“Don’t look into the keyhole,” Misha muttered softly. “It will definitely be staring back at you from the other side.”
Lance froze. “What?”
Misha shook his head.
Lance raised his hand and pushed gently on the wooden door.
Even though the house had been abandoned for years, the door was still sturdy. Without a key, it would be hard to break in. Just as Misha was about to suggest Lance find another way, he saw Lance raise his leg toward the door.
Misha: “…Lord Lance! That door is very solid!”
Bang.
Lance kicked the door hard, and it flew open with a crash.
“It’s late,” Lance said. “I want to go back to sleep early.”
Misha: “…”
Lance: “Better not to take the long way.”
Misha finally couldn’t help but speak up. “…Lord Lance.”
Lance looked back at him.
Misha looked at the wooden door, now hanging precariously from its frame, and whispered, “We… seem like a band of robbers.”
Lance: “…”
He thought of the poor ghost he had dispersed and inexplicably felt their actions were a bit excessive.
The ghost had pestered them in the woods for so long, but thinking back, it hadn’t made any aggressive moves. It had purely been jump-scaring them, trying to frighten them away from the hut.
Compared to that poor ghost, what they were doing now was much worse.
Misha hid behind Lance, looking around cautiously. Although the wooden hut was dilapidated and showed no signs of human habitation, it was surprisingly clean. They saw hardly any damaged furniture or heavy dust. Everything remained as it was when the farmer’s family left generations ago—and furniture doesn’t clean itself.
That left only one possibility.
Misha whispered, “You don’t think it cleaned this, do you?”
Lance looked around the room seriously and couldn’t help asking, “Don’t you think… a ghost holding a feather duster… is very weird?”
Misha: “…”
Misha imagined the scene.
Misha shivered.
He didn’t know if it was weird or not; he just felt that a feather duster floating in mid-air was terrifying.
“I don’t know what your ghosts are like,” Lance frowned slightly, running his hand over the polished, dust-free table. “Can they touch objects in the human world so casually?”
To maintain this level of cleanliness required more than casual, absent-minded cleaning. And a ghost, needing no food, water, sleep, or anything else—did it really need to keep the house this clean?
Misha shook his head incessantly.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen a ghost,” Misha whispered. “I’ve never died, either.”
Lance: “…”
They passed through the corridor of the hut. By the dim light of Lance’s lantern, they could vaguely see what appeared to be a small dining room ahead.
The table was piled with cluttered papers, a stark contrast to the neatness they had seen upon entering. Yet even here, the area was cleaned spotlessly. Lance lifted the lantern, frowning as he tried to examine the messy papers on the table.
The papers were covered in chaotic scribbles, formulas Lance didn’t recognize or understand, and countless dots connected by straight lines. Densely packed, they converged on the paper like—
Suddenly, he heard a shrill scream.
The ghost, which had been gone for a while, suddenly appeared behind the two of them. It spread its withered fingers, showing intent to attack for the first time.
It was very close. The space behind the wooden table was cramped, leaving Misha and Lance little room to maneuver. Lance could hardly even draw the sword at his waist. Not knowing what kind of injury the ghost’s attack might cause, they needed to dodge to be safe.
He didn’t want Misha to get hurt because of him, which meant he had to dodge the ghost’s attack while prioritizing Misha’s protection.
Lance grabbed Misha’s hand and quickly pulled him behind his back. This reaction cost him the timing to dodge completely. He could only retreat a few steps, and the ghost’s claws swiped across his shoulder and back.
There was no pain.
Only a bone-piercing chill, as if half the heat in his body had been sucked away. He watched the ghost’s hand pass through his shoulder—it was just a phantom; it caused him no harm. Only then did he turn back to look at the fierce-looking ghost behind him.
He felt he understood something.
Unable to draw his sword, he simply reached out and swiped his hand quickly through the ghost. He didn’t even try to hit the ghost’s “body,” but the wind from his swing dispersed part of the ghost’s form.
Even though the phantom quickly reformed, it made Lance realize one thing.
This so-called ghost couldn’t touch them at all.
Not only that.
Lance pushed Misha back a few steps, circling to the outer edge of the table, and cast his gaze back onto the desk.
The ghost’s reaction had become violent only when they approached this wooden table, posing as if to attack. Did that mean the things on this desk were extremely important to it?
Lance grabbed the edge of the wooden table.
Misha didn’t know if Lance was hurt. He was very nervous and, forgetting his fear of the ghost, was almost about to use magic. But then he saw Lance flash a smile at the ghost—a smile Misha was all too familiar with.
Misha: “…”
Misha subconsciously stopped his hand.
The Hero looked confident. This poor ghost was about to suffer a big loss.
Sure enough, in the next moment, Lance flipped the table. Books and papers spilled all over the floor with a crash. The ghost’s seemingly rigid and withered face showed a ripple of emotion. It almost immediately reached out, trying to catch the table, but the table passed right through its outstretched hands and its body, crashing into the wall behind it.
It couldn’t stop anything. Papers fluttered in the air, passing through its body one by one. It reached out to grab them, but its light, phantom form was sliced in two by the falling sheets.
It knelt on the ground in panic, rushing to check if the papers on the floor were damaged. Meanwhile, Lance sighed softly and said, “There’s at least one living person in this hut.”
Misha: “…”
Misha started to feel sorry for this ghost.
He roughly understood Lance’s point. This ghost seemed unable to touch people or objects in the house. That meant the cleanliness of the room was definitely not maintained by the ghost, and the freshly written papers on the desk were certainly not the ghost’s work.
Which meant, there was at least one living person living in this hut.
Misha turned his head and saw Lance holding the inkwell that had been on the table. It seemed he had saved it to prevent ink from spilling over the papers when he flipped the table. He gently set the inkwell aside and was about to speak when he caught a glimpse of a shadow flashing by the door, as if someone had slipped out.
Since they had confirmed the ghost couldn’t hurt anyone, Lance didn’t hesitate. He turned and sprinted out the door, chasing the figure.
Misha was startled and froze in place, hesitating for a moment on whether he should chase after them.
Then he turned his head and saw the tearful, sobbing ghost behind him.
Misha: “…”
Ghost: “…”
Ghost: “Wuwuwu!“
Misha: “Ah! Don’t come over!!!”
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