And then—
As if the heavens themselves conspired against her—
CRACK!
A piece of the stable's roof broke off and plummeted down—
Landing just a centimeter away from her foot.
Divya froze.
The horses huffed.
And if she wasn't mistaken—
One of them even rolled its eyes.
It was almost as if the stable itself was telling her—
"Get lost already."
Her lips parted.
Then closed.
And with a deep, deep sigh, she turned away and slowly disappeared into the darkness.
…
One thing was clear now.
She couldn't stay in this city anymore.
She knew from the countless novels she had written—
Every sect had at least one or two cities under their control.
And judging by how rampant ghost cultivators were in this area—
It was obvious.
This place was their territory.
And she?
She was not the type to walk into a lion's den without protection.
…
Yeah.
And she was also the same person who had just stolen from ghost cultivators.
And was now talking about not provoking lions.
…
As soon as Divya stepped out of the stables, the world around her was engulfed in darkness.
The alley stretched ahead, shadowy and eerily silent. A few lamps flickered dimly in the windows of distant houses, but compared to the modern world—where streetlights illuminated every corner—this place felt like it had been swallowed by an endless void.
If not for those faint glows, she might have thought she was wandering through nothingness.
She had no phone, no flashlight, nothing to guide her way.
So she did the only thing she could—
She pressed her hands against the walls and moved forward, inch by inch.
The walls were rough in some places, smooth in others. Occasionally, her fingers brushed against flowers, their petals soft under her touch.
But then—
She touched something strange.
Her brows furrowed.
Why does this wall feel… soft yet firm at the same time?
Curious, she gave it a slight squeeze.
Still confused, she pinched it.
…What the hell?
Did the people in this era build walls out of flesh?
Annoyed, she slapped it lightly.
And then—
"Ugh—"
A deep groan.
Her entire body froze.
That wasn't a wall.
That was a person.
Her breath hitched, heart hammering in her chest. Slowly, carefully, she turned her head and squinted in the darkness, trying to make out what—or who—she had just violated.
And then—
A flicker of light.
A candle ignited.
And before her—
A ghost.
A ghost.
A pale-faced figure, dressed in flowing robes, holding a candle in the dead of night.
Her mind blanked.
She had read about spirits that roamed with candles, but she had never seen one.
Her instincts kicked in.
She screamed.
And kicked.
The ghost caught her foot.
She kicked again—harder.
The figure stumbled back, still holding the candle in one hand, struggling to keep balance. Divya didn't wait.
She launched one final, powerful kick—
—and sent the 'ghost' crashing to the ground.
"Ouch!"
The voice was very much human.
Her breath caught.
Wait.
Since when do ghosts groan in pain?
The candle miraculously hadn't blown out, and as she looked down—
Her eyes widened.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
There, lying on the ground, wincing in pain—
Was an absurdly, ridiculously, unfairly beautiful face.
Divya was still frozen in place.
Logically, she should call him handsome.
But looking at his face…
That word didn't seem sufficient.
She had seen many actors—Hollywood, Bollywood, K-dramas, C-dramas, every type of drama. She had seen models, magazine covers, and even AI-generated faces.
Yet—
This man…
This man was beyond all of them.
His beauty was almost unreal.
How could she possibly call him handsome when his features outshone even the most beautiful women she had ever seen?
Her mind was still trying to process this injustice when—
The man spoke.
His voice was deep yet smooth, laced with quiet authority.
"Would you please help me up?"
Divya blinked.
And then—
"No, you look good lying there."
She said it instinctively. Mindlessly. Without a filter.
The air froze.
The man froze.
The words sank in.
Divya's soul left her body.
Oh. My. God.
What the hell did I just say?!
She frantically shook her head.
"I—I mean—"
Damage control!
"Yes! Why not? Of course, I'll help you!"
She thrust out her hand before she could embarrass herself further.
The man—still eyeing her with that unreadable expression—grabbed it.
And she pulled him up.
Now standing, he dusted off his clothes with slow, measured movements.
Divya, still clutching the candle, finally got a better look at him.
He wore a purple robe with intricate white embroidery around the collar.
His hair was long—waist-length. Because of the darkness, she couldn't tell its exact color, but it was definitely black or some deep, dark shade.
Despite being knocked to the ground by her, he held himself with an elegant, almost regal air.
And then—
His gaze fell back on her.
His black eyes glinted in the candlelight, like twin abysses that could swallow her whole.
He exhaled, a little sharply.
"Please hand back the candle."
His tone was calm, but slightly unhappy.
Divya stared at him.
Then at the candle in her hand.
Oh.
Right.
She had stolen it.
Divya shoved the candle back into his hand with a huff, her brows furrowed.
The man took it without a word, his gaze steady as he looked at her.
She crossed her arms. "Excuse me? I am not the one who stole it!"
Her voice came out sharper than intended, but she didn't care.
"And what kind of person walks around without making a sound in the middle of the night? It's so dark! You should be thankful I didn't beat you up more!"
The man didn't react immediately. He simply watched her.
His deep, dark eyes held an unreadable expression.
"Excuse me?"
His tone was calm, controlled—yet there was something in it that made her stomach twist.
Divya stared back, refusing to be intimidated. "What?"
Inside, though?
Yeah.