Soul Hunting

I watched as the sunlight outside the McDonald's cast dappled patterns on the table. The Big Mac in my hand remained mostly untouched. Even though there were ordinary customers all around, my gaze could pierce through the thin veil of reality and spot those unnoticed presences beside them.

After dying eighteen times, I finally saw through the true nature of this world.

The girl by the window was in her school uniform, her skin so pale that it was nearly translucent. Her eyes were like bottomless chasms. Every time someone walked by, she'd flash a greedy smile, yet no one could see her. Near the cash register, a well - dressed businessman was looking down at his phone. If you overlooked the occasional distortion of his mouth that stretched all the way back to his ears and the black substance writhing beneath his skin.

I took a slow sip of Coke and started organizing the information about Specters in my mind. They clearly fell into two categories: the lower - level ones were like beasts, driven solely by instinct to chase and bite; the higher - level ones were more crafty, capable of disguising themselves and waiting, much like The Wife. But they shared one common trait—they needed to be "seen" in order to actually harm humans.

The vibration of my phone interrupted my train of thought. It was Jack Thompson. "Alex, are you really not coming in today? Harrison already singled you out in the meeting and criticized you."

I put my phone on silent. The college student who used to fret over work and performance seemed like a distant memory, as if from another world. Now, I had more pressing matters at hand.

In the afternoon, the financial district was cloaked in an eerie shadow.

I walked along Michigan Avenue, looking every bit the part of a well - dressed office worker in my sharp suit. However, my eyes could perceive things that the average person couldn't. Specters of all shapes and forms were roaming between the office buildings. Some resembled Victorian - era gentlemen, floating gracefully in mid - air; others were grotesque entities that defied the laws of physics, flickering in and out of view in the reflection of the glass facades.

Atop the First National Bank Building, a huge sphere covered with eyes was slowly rotating. Those eyes were all fixed on the people on the ground, as if searching for prey that could "see" them. I met the gaze of those eyes for a split second, then nonchalantly looked away. I'd come to understand that in this world, "pretending not to see" was the best form of protection.

The Uber drove me through the city, heading towards the suburbs where Oak Academy was located. In the passenger seat was a woman in a Victorian - style dress. Her head was twisted backwards at an impossible angle, smiling directly at me. But I just stared calmly out of the window, as if the seat were empty.

I stopped in front of Oak Academy, my brows knitted tightly. Where there should have been modern teaching buildings stood St. John's Psychiatric Hospital. The Victorian - era buildings were connected by glass corridors, a far cry from the scene I remembered.

"Space overlap," I muttered, quickly analyzing the situation as my mind raced.

I took out my phone and saw a slew of missed calls: 13 from William Harrison and 3 from Jack Thompson. Just as I was about to call back, Jack's call came through.

"Alex, you finally called back! What's going on? Harrison is absolutely furious. He's threatening to fire you and dock all your commission," Jack said, his voice laced with worry.

"I'm okay," I replied curtly. "Are you all in the office right now?"

"Yeah, we are. Since you didn't show up today, that damned Harrison took it out on us. We've got to work overtime again..."

I hung up the phone, lost in thought. In the eyes of my colleagues, this place should still be the modern Oak Academy. But in my view, it was clearly a psychiatric hospital built in the last century. I tried to approach the iron gate but felt an invisible resistance, as if the air had suddenly thickened.

I reached out to touch the barrier, feeling the energy coursing through it. This wasn't an ordinary Specter ability. It felt more like some sort of ancient and powerful ward. Just as I was engrossed in my study, a voice came from behind me.

"Foster, what are you up to? Is this some new kind of performance art?" It was Carl, the security guard, his tone tinged with mild teasing.

I didn't respond and kept on with my exploration. I could sense Carl was right behind me, but right now, understanding this anomaly was of utmost importance.

"Hey, why are you ignoring me?" Carl's voice got even closer. "I saw you bumping into thin air just now, and then you started feeling around. What, did you find something interesting?"

Just then, I noticed a security booth had suddenly appeared at the corner. It was a modern glass structure with an access control system at the entrance, and the running air - conditioner was visible inside. These features stood in stark contrast to the surrounding Victorian - style buildings.

Another point of overlap between reality and the supernatural.

I turned to face Carl, plastering on a professional smile. "Nothing much. Just thinking about some stuff." I knew that to an ordinary person, I probably looked like a spaced - out weirdo. But at this moment, my mind was working at full throttle, trying to analyze the patterns behind this abnormal phenomenon.

The overlap of Oak Academy and St. John's Psychiatric Hospital, the existence of the supernatural barrier, the intermingling of modern and ancient architecture—all these were hinting at some deeper truth. Perhaps the surface of this world was just a thin veneer, and because of my unique ability, I could see through this barrier.

A cold gust of wind blew, and the afterglow of the setting sun cast strange shadows on the windows of the hospital. Through the dusty glass, I seemed to glimpse countless distorted figures moving about. But my expression remained composed, just like that of an ordinary office worker.

"Carl," I said abruptly, "how long have you been working here?"

"Almost five years, I guess," the security guard replied with a smile. "I've been here since the academy was founded."