A Freesia on My Doorstep - TO BE PUBLISHED UNDER PAPERINK IMPRINTS

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rhododendron: Beware of Danger

A SMILE APPEARED on Dalfon's lips as he found a freesia on his doorstep. He got used to seeing the flower that a few days of its absence made him do things he would rarely do.

With a bright smile, he drove his black roadster and arrived at the Asterisk Films building. "Good morning!" he greeted the security guard.

The man was taken aback. Nevertheless, he replied, "Good morning, Sir Ananta!"

When he passed his secretary's office, Lizelle met with him and remarked, "You seem to be in a good mood today, Sir Ananta. What's the catch?"

"A freesia on my doorstep," Dalfon simply answered.

And his response was heard by the blonde-haired, blue-eyed ghost who stood in front of his office. Egan smiled fondly.

Silently, he thanked the Ghost King, 'Your Majesty, I am running towards my light now. Your advice was very helpful.'

Dalfon entered his office and Egan followed suit. On his desk was a pile of white folders containing new screenplays. His brows met as he recalled saying he would write one by himself.

His good mood went on a hundred eighty-degree turn. "Lizelle Loyola!" he called out.

The woman came in. "Yes, Sir Ananta?"

"Didn't I say I will write a screenplay myself? Why did you put these on my desk?" He spoke with his cold tone and blank stare.

"I-I'm sorry, Sir Ananta," she apologized and took away the screenplays.

"You're doing it again," the ghost noted with a pout. "She was shuddering."

Dalfon sat on his swivel chair and loosened his tie. With his eyes closed, he replied, "Keep quiet."

"Only you can converse with me," Egan stated in a matter-of-fact. "You'll sound crazy if they hear you talking to no one."

He glared at him and said, "I don't care. Just keep quiet."

"You've changed . . . so much, yet, you're also still the same," the ghost remarked in a whisper.

Dalfon opened his eyes and began to work on his computer. It seems he didn't hear Egan's words and the ghost was thankful for it.

SINCE TODAY WAS a weekend, Dalfon met with Haco at Clover Café during lunch break. Egan watched them from the entrance of Asterisk Films.

"C'mon! Tell me everythin'," Haco demanded with gleaming eyes as he sat down with Dalfon at their usual spot.

The latter reclined on the chair. "I've told you already."

"That SMS sayin', 'Hey, I met the ghost who sends me freesias,' is not everythin'!" the former whined.

"It's literally the summary of everything."

"Well, dude, I don't want a summary!"

"Fine, fine!" Dalfon sighed, giving up. "All he did was fantasize about his first love. We only talked about the freesias at the beginning and the end. That's all."

"What's his first love like? Is she beautiful? Is she still alive?"

"He likes another man. Still here in the Living Realm."

"Whoa." Haco was stunned for a moment. "That was quite an unexpected turn. Are ya sure his first love isn't ya?"

"He made it clear that he's giving me freesias because I happen to remind him of the man. He didn't say the man was me. Besides," Dalfon shrugged his shoulders; "I'm not into romance. You very well know that."

"Ya're weird," Haco remarked. "So, the ghost is gay?"

Claire, who had just arrived at their table, tripped on her foot upon hearing the man's inquiry. Dalfon's reflexes were quick to keep the tray of food and drink from slipping out of her hands. A worried Egan entered the café.

"Be careful," Dalfon told Claire while taking the plates of meal from the tray.

"I'm sorry for this, Mr. Ananta," she apologized and helped him serve their lunch.

"It's nothing." He smiled at her and then glared at Haco. "It was this foolish man's fault for dropping such a senseless question."

"What?" Haco showed utter confusion. "There was nothin' wrong with that."

Dalfon moved his brows and gave him a meaningful look. "You were talking about a ghost."

"A gay ghost," corrected Haco, earning another glare from Dalfon.

"Shut the hell up, Fenmore." He slammed the glass of iced tea on the table, causing a little volume to spill. "You're being unreasonable."

"What? Why? And ya're doin' the surname-basis callin' again!"

"If a man bears romantic feelings for another man, it doesn't automatically mean they're gay. It could be that it is because it is that specific person that they happened to fall in love."

Haco was rendered speechless. Egan, who stood a meter behind Dalfon, humbly smiled at his words. Then, he stepped back and left the Clover Café like a gentle breeze.

Suddenly, the ghost was forcefully transported somewhere by an unfamiliar, pitch-black figure.

THE DEATH DEMON dragged Egan into a dark, secluded space. Not a single ghost was passing by for him to shout for help. After pushing him down and pinning him with a foot, they pointed the sharp end of the Spirit Sickle on his neck.

One slice; he'd be gone for good.

"Y-Your Royal Highness—"

"I am not lower than the Ghost King!" The Death Demon's voice boomed. The sound was ghastly.

"Your Majesty—"

"I am not standing on the same level as that man!"

"M-My Lord!" Egan cried out. "Why have you come for me? What did I do wrong?"

The Death Demon laughed. Their laugh was so devilish; it sent shivers down Egan's spine.

He was afraid; petrified, even.

"I can read your mind," they said. "Would you like me to bring Dalfon Ananta here?"

"NO!" Egan interjected, regaining his strength. "Don't do anything to him, please, My Lord! Yes, I want to be with him, but he is still living his dreams!"

It is widely known in the Afterlife Realm that a slice of the Death Demon's Spirit Scythe can bring the living into the afterlife, and a dead spirit into oblivion. And this ghost . . .

This ghost gambled.

"My Lord, I am more than willing to give you my spirit in exchange for his life! Don't take him away from the Living Realm!"

The Death Demon was taken aback. They withdrew their weapon from his neck and turned away.

With one last glance, they announced, "I have received Dalfon Ananta's spirit card. The Ghost King favors you. I'm sure that guy would be able to come up with a plan to cancel both his cause and time of death." And they vanished like black smoke blown away by a strong wind.

Egan Conley didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

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