As the moon rose high into the sky, it cast an eerie glow over the old Brice Manor. Its silver light illuminated the intricate carvings on the stone pillars and danced across the overgrown garden, highlighting the cracks in the cobblestone pathway.

Tents were scattered across the lawn bathed in endless darkness as its occupants slept with nothing to worry about.

But while the outside of the manor was shrouded in quiet stillness, the inside was a different story altogether. On the second floor, Emily sat solemnly on her bed and gazed at her suitcase. She had been released from the hospital that afternoon and though she was apprehensive to enter her room given the recent events, she had no choice. None of her coworkers showed compassion. Jamilla had been dismissed. No one acknowledged her when they had dinner. It felt like she was a ghost who sat there and could only eat in silence.

The weight of her recent conversation with the owner of Brice Manor hung heavily on her shoulders.

As she recounted the discussion in her mind, tears trickled down her cheeks. The old man had been furious with her, his anger boiling over like a pot left unattended on the stove. He had belittled and insulted her, demanding that she produce a perfect presentation of her plans for the third floor within just two short days, warning her that it was the only chance she had to redeem herself. The old man also stated that he was willing to back up the company regarding Emily's misdemeanor if she held firm in her resolve to quit her job.

Emily had neither an apartment nor a house to return to, and her lack of family support left her in a difficult position. With only ninety dollars in her bank account, leaving her job would leave her with no income and potentially ruin her chances of being hired elsewhere. She feared that even a job as a waitress or a similar position would be hard to come by. Additionally, her suggested misdemeanor and bond with the company could lead to a legal battle and she had no means to hire a lawyer. Emily was acutely aware of her dire situation and felt helpless.

She's so fucked, she mused.

"Provide a clear and precise depiction of the third floor," she whispered, her voice heavy with defeat. Emily realized the enormity of the challenge ahead. She had just started taking inventory of the furniture on the third floor, two days wasn't enough to fulfill the owner's request. Anxiety crept up on her, weighing her down, while the moon's silvery glow seemed to taunt her, accentuating the hopelessness etched on her face.

She sat on her bed, tears streaming down her face. But then, a shift occurred within Emily. A spark of determination ignited, and she realized she couldn't give up without a fight. Something wasn't right. She had been wronged, and she needed to prove it. With wounded pride, she tightly clutched her suitcase, opened it, and spilled its contents onto the bed.

She is Emily Hudson, since when did she accept defeat so easily? She will not go down without a fight. With the moon as her witness, Emily made a silent promise to herself that she would figure out what happened and find out who the fuck, put that damn vodka bottle on the third floor.

It wasn't hers. If only she could prove that that damn bottle wasn't hers and that she truly saw an apparition...

Emily suddenly stopped her musings. She looked around her room. Ghosts, she thought. "Damn ghosts," she muttered. Whether what she experienced was true or not she couldn't care less. She needed to...

Then a thought crossed her mind.

Hastily she went to her cabinet and took out the key to the third floor and an old flashlight. She gave her belongings one last look and then headed for her bedroom door.

With each step she took, the moonbeams danced across her face, highlighting the determination and strength that burned within her.

After one last cry of profanities, mocking ghosts, stupid workers, and vodka bottles, Emily marched out of the room.

Clutching tightly her flickering flashlight, she ascended the grand staircase of the second manor. Her heart throbbed with anticipation, and fear slowly crept inside her. She knew what lay ahead, but she was determined to see it through.

As she climbed each step, her mind was filled with memories of the previous day. The emptiness and scarcity of sound only added to her unease. Her footsteps echoed as she reached the top of the stairs. She looked around the deserted hallway below, feeling a chill run down her spine. She knew that she had to continue, so she took a deep breath and walked towards the main door on the third floor.

She pulled out the key, and her hands trembled as she inserted it into the lock. With a soft push, the door guarding the third floor creaked open. Emily hesitated for a moment, but she wouldn't back out of her resolve.

The room was dark, and the only light came from the flickering flashlight in her hand. She looked around, taking in the dusty old furniture and the cobwebs on the walls. She felt a sense of unease as if something was watching her from the shadows.

Emily took a step forward, and suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. She turned around, shining her flashlight in the direction of the sound. But there was nothing there, only the darkness that surrounded her. Emily took a deep breath and steeled her nerves.

She continued to move forward until she reached the room where she met Pier Brice, her heart racing as she felt a sense of dread. "Pier Brice," Emily yelled. "Show yourself. I need to talk to you," she added.

She waited, but nothing happened. Emily felt like a fool. "What am I doing," she asked herself as she fell on the floor, her flashlight hitting the planks with a thud, rolling away from her. Suddenly, she heard someone whisper, "Emily."

Her heart thudded in her chest as a bright light appeared in front of her. She clamped her eyes shut, unable to withstand the brilliance. The light was so intense, so all-encompassing, that it felt as though she was being absorbed into it, consumed by its radiance.

Soon, the light began to recede, and Emily slowly opened her eyes. The room that had once been dark and dilapidated was now transformed into something out of a dream. The walls, once cracked and peeling, now shimmered with new life, their colors vibrant. She could hear the soft shuffling of the wallpaper as its torn pieces merged, coming together to create a tapestry of beauty and artistry. Their movement was like that of butterfly wings, filtering as each torn piece joined another.

The furniture too had transformed, bending and cracking until it was as pristine as it had been when it was first crafted. Emily marveled at the intricate designs and the delicate detailing, each piece of furniture a work of art in its own right.

As she stood there, surrounded by this beauty, a sense of wonder and awe overtook her, momentarily freeing her mind of the weight of her situation. How was it possible that this derelict room had been transformed into something so exquisite, so breathtaking?

And then she heard the voice, a gentle whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. "I thought you left," the voice said. "I thought that I will never see you again.."

As Emily turned the corner, she found herself facing the very figure that had haunted her in that very room - Pier Brice. Her eyes widened in shock as she stumbled backward, completely taken aback by the sight of him. She hoped he was real. But now she... Her eyes caught the fluttering of his lashes.

She remembered him to be a strikingly handsome figure, Emily couldn't help but stare in awe at how much more defined and radiant he looked now, surrounded by a glow that seemed to emanate from within. A blush crept across her cheeks as she felt a fluttering sensation in her chest, but the reality of the situation soon brought her back down to earth.

She felt a sudden wave of fear wash over her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as she realized that this was real. But even as her heart raced with panic, she steeled her nerves and summoned her anger, glaring at the apparition before her.

Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, her words dripping with a mix of fear and defiance. "Are you always here? Do you see everything?" she demanded, her eyes fixed firmly on Pier Brice's unnerving presence. "And did you see someone put a bottle of alcohol in here?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence as Pier Brice seemed to study Emily, weighing her words and her demeanor. But then, without warning, he spoke - his voice kind and sweet.

"I have always been here, and I see all that occurs within these walls," he intoned, his words laced with bitterness but also understanding that warmed he heart. "And yes, I did see the individuals who placed the bottle in this room."

"Who was it," she asked.

"Two men, workers from down below. I heard them say something about sacking Clariss. They climbed through that window and slipped the bottle inside," Pier replied, pointing a finger at an open window in the room.

Emily felt a surge of relief wash over her as she heard his words - at least now she knew that she wasn't crazy and she didn't drink, that there was something or someone who can prove her innocence. But as quickly as that feeling had come, it vanished - replaced with a new wave of uncertainty and apprehension. How the hell was she supposed to prove it? Tell them a ghost said so. Emily felt like slapping herself. How stupid was she?

Emily stumbled backward away from Pier until she fell to the ground, coiling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees as tears streamed down her face. She heard Pier ask if everything was alright, but she couldn't bring herself to answer. Nothing was alright - she was in the presence of a ghost, and she should have been scared out of her mind.

But strangely enough, Emily wasn't feeling scared. Instead, she felt like she was on the brink of losing whatever little bit she had left in life and sanity. She was about to go crazy, her mind filled with jumbled emotions each raging for dominance inside her. It was too much for her to bear.

As Pier whispered to her, Emily felt him sit down beside her. She didn't look at him, nor did she flinch. She felt no fear, which struck her as crazy considering she was sitting here with a ghost. Her tears continued to flow as Pier's hand suddenly landed on her shoulder, causing her to look up. Pier smiled at her.

"I can help you," he said.

Emily let out a bitter chuckle. "How?" she asked. "Are you going to show yourself to them and tell them someone put that bottle here on purpose? Are you going to tell them that the ghost in my -" Emily stopped short. She grabbed Pier's arm and asked, "Are there any other ghosts here? I saw something, and it wasn't good-looking like you."

Pier's face flushed with a sudden blush. It took a moment for Emily to realize what she had said, and when she did, she couldn't help but feel embarrassed too. A few seconds of silence passed between them before Pier finally answered.

"No, there aren't any other ghosts here," he said. "But what you saw was the effects of the medicine they put on the apple. It was something called a hallucinogen."

Emily frowned, not quite convinced. "How do I know your not lying?" she asked.

"How do you explain what happened to you? Where you really drunk? Do you have any history of mental illness? Think, Emily," he countered.

Emily sat in stunned silence, trying to make sense of what Pier had just said.
"Apple, Clariss, Hallucinogen," she questioned. Then it dawned on her. "What the hell," she screamed. They... Did Aida... They loved her. Oh, this is insane! Those damn bitches," she cursed.

"Calm down Emily," Pier cooed. "I said I can help you."

Emily frowned, "How," she asked.

Pier got to his feet and approached Emily, his voice low and barely audible. "I know everything and I hear everything," he said. "I heard from one of the workers that you have to present the new owner with a thorough depiction and plan of this floor in two days. The employees have a wager. Some said you will leave..." Pier's voice trailed off, and Emily saw a shadow of sadness in his eyes.

But the sadness disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. "They said you will leave while others think you will take on the challenge but will fail," Pier finished.

Emily felt her anger ignite at the words. How dare they bet on her like some kind of a joke? She increased her pacing around the room, letting out every profanity she could think of. She even went as far as punching a wall, which only caused her harm instead.

But even in the midst of her rage, Emily heard Pier's voice calling out to her. "I can help you," he said.

Emily turned to face him, surprised that he was standing there like some kind of serene masterpiece blending perfectly with the magnificence of everything inside the room.

Then her eyes drifted to the wallpaper behind him. It was a beauty, the colors were so vivid and... perfect. Suddenly, Emily's eyes widened as she realized that everything in the room was pristine. Everything. She could just document it all and...

"You finally got it, Emily," Pier said, his voice calm and encouraging. "Everything you need to prepare for the presentation is here."

Emily felt a strange kind of relief wash over her. Maybe she could pull this off after all. With Pier's help and the beauty and detail of the room on her side, there was a fighting chance that she could succeed and prove those naysayers wrong.

She smiled at Pier. "This is crazy" she whispered.

"No, it's not," he murmured. "I'll be your faithful guide," he promised from a meter away. As he drew closer, only inches separated them, and Emily's heartbeat quickened. "Your divine protector," he whispered as he enveloped her in his strong arms, a sense of safety washing over her.

Emily braced herself as he invaded her personal space. Yet, her thoughts became a blur and left her unsure. Consequently, she surrendered to his embrace. Her victory was paramount, and it brought a smile to her face. She was determined to prove them all wrong.

Emily was too absorbed in her own plans and emotions, she failed to notice the wicked smile that crept over Pier's beautiful face. Even the words "you're mine" that escaped his lips were missed by her.