I never thought I would see Lin again. But life is always full of unexpected surprises. And shocks.

  I had just returned from a long meeting when I saw her standing at my doorstep, suitcase in hand. She hadn't changed much from a year ago—except for her slightly shorter hair. Lin grinned at me, her eyes twinkling with the same familiar mischief.

  "You're finally back! I've been waiting for ages!" she called out, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  I stood frozen for a moment. "How did you..."

  "Impressive, right? I told you, I have special powers!" She winked playfully.

  I hesitated at the door, debating whether to invite her in. But before I could make up my mind, she took matters into her own hands, dragging her suitcase inside as if she belonged there.

  "Wow, this is your place? It's much nicer than I expected." Lin glanced around, nodding approvingly.

  I remained silent, unsure how to respond. I had never been good at handling uninvited guests.

  "I don’t have much time, so I’ll get straight to the point." She plopped onto my couch, looking up at me with an expression that made my stomach tighten. "You got those photos, didn’t you?"

  The question caught me off guard. I was still trying to process the situation, but I nodded nonetheless.

  "And? You saw them?" she pressed.

  "You mean... those white specks in the pictures?" I asked, uncertain.

  Lin chuckled, watching me closely before answering. "Told you. The camera sees what the human eye can't. Guess I was right."

  I forced a weak smile. After an entire day of meetings, I barely had the energy to manage my expressions.

  "Are you scared?" Lin asked, her tone turning serious.

  I shook my head.

  "You shouldn’t be. If anything, you’re lucky." She leaned back, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling. "At least you can’t see them."

  Her words unsettled me. "What do you mean, 'at least we can’t see them'?"

  "Ever heard of the Yin-Yang Eye?"

  I stiffened. "You’re saying... you have it?"

  Lin’s gaze locked onto mine. After a moment, she asked in a slow, deliberate voice, "You’re not the only child in your family, are you?"

  The question sent a chill through me. "Who told you that?"

  For the first time since she arrived, Lin hesitated. She averted her eyes. "Forget it. Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me."

  I fell silent, contemplating her words. Eventually, I exhaled and made my decision. "You’re right. I’m not the only child in my family."

  I confessed a truth that no one had ever known—a secret I had kept buried for years. I did have an older sister, but she had passed away when I was just a child. This was something I had never shared with anyone, not a soul, throughout all these years.

  Lin looked taken aback, but something in my answer pleased her. She smiled, and for a fleeting moment, there was something strange in her eyes—something almost... triumphant.

  "Yes," she murmured. "I have the Yin-Yang Eye. I can see the dead."

  LIN's Story

  Yes, I have the the Yin-Yang Eye.

  I’ve known since I was a child that I was different. My mother used to tell me it was because of my eyes.

  My eyes could see things that others couldn’t.

  I’ve always found the human eye fascinating. It’s one of the fastest-evolving organs in the body. And my eyes… I suppose they evolved too quickly, too advanced for their own good. Because they can see ghosts.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  From the moment I could remember, relatives, friends, and neighbors all kept their distance from me.

  I still recall my grandfather’s funeral when I was five. I watched the adults kneeling in mourning, their cries filling the air, and I didn’t understand what was happening. When they told me Grandpa had passed away, I just laughed and said, “No, he hasn’t! You’ve all been tricked! He’s hiding in his room—I was just talking to him.”

  People panicked. Someone turned to my mother and whispered, "Take her away."

  When I started elementary school, my parents moved us into an apartment near the school. The building had a long hallway lined with apartments, each home holding seven or eight families. A young couple lived across from us, and I often played at their place.

  One day, I asked the wife, “Where’s your little boy?”

  She frowned. “What little boy?”

  “The one that’s always in your house. He didn’t follow you home today?”

  Her face went pale. Without another word, she rushed inside and slammed the door. I later learned that the couple never had children—only a miscarriage five years prior. The doctors had said it was a boy.

  From then on, they avoided me. Whenever they saw me, I could hear their hushed murmurs: “A bad omen… truly cursed.”

  By the time I reached middle school, I had learned my lesson. Even if I saw something, I kept my mouth shut. But it was harder than I thought.

  Most people assume ghosts must be terrifying figures—pale women in white dresses, drenched in blood, with long, disheveled hair. The truth is, most spirits look just like us.

  We are merely ghosts who are still alive. And ghosts… are just people who have died. They exist in a different dimension, so it takes time to discern who belongs to which world. Especially those who don’t realize they are dead.

  I remember one incident in particular. It was during class when a soaking-wet woman suddenly burst into the room. She ran frantically, calling out the name of one of my classmates.

  At first, I flinched in shock, but when I noticed that no one else reacted, I knew—I was the only one who could see her.

  She was wearing a business suit, but her hair was in disarray. Her skin was grayish-white, slightly bloated. Her eyes were shut tight as she groped around desperately, searching for something.

  At first, I thought she was just another passerby, a lonely spirit who would soon fade away. But she kept coming back—day after day, appearing in our classroom.

  My classmates began to notice my odd behavior. The way I flinched, the way I avoided certain spaces. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore.

  One day, I stood up in the middle of class and shouted, calling my classmate’s name. Then, I yelled: “Your mother is looking for you! She’s waiting under the bridge!”

  Later, I learned that my classmate’s mother was the heiress of a wealthy conglomerate. She had been kidnapped for ransom. When negotiations failed, her captors killed her and dumped her body.

  At the time, no one knew she had already been murdered. The family was still engaged in ransom talks, and my classmate had no idea his mother was gone.

  Two days later, the news broke: they had found her body under a bridge, lying on the riverbank. She had been dead for nearly a week. Before she was killed, her eyes had been gouged out.

  After that, my classmate never returned to school. And because of the rumors surrounding me, my family sent me to study abroad in England. After all, no one wanted their child to spend three years in school with a "monster."

  Studying in England was the happiest time of my life. Whether it was the change in location or simply growing older, I began to see fewer and fewer spirits.

  I thought I had finally escaped that part of myself.

  Then, during my last year of university, I moved into a new place—and everything changed.

  My landlady was a stern old British woman, but the rent was cheap, and it was close to campus, so I had no choice but to stay.

  One night, I noticed an old man in the house. At first, I thought he was a friend of the landlady’s—he was always near her, seemingly deep in conversation. But after a while, I realized they weren’t talking at all.

  She was watching TV.

  And the old man was just… muttering to himself.

  When our eyes met, he looked as shocked as I felt. That’s when I knew: I had started seeing them again.

  The old man was my landlady’s ex-husband. They had been divorced for over a decade, but he had never left.

  Once he realized I could see him, he began to visit my room, whispering incessantly with his thick Irish accent: “Help me. Tell that hag to return my pocket watch.”

  I tried to ignore him. But his voice grew louder. More insistent. Until finally, it became unbearable.

  So I confronted my landlady and told her everything.

  She was furious.

  She threw me out that very night, dumping my belongings through the window, refusing to return my deposit. Worse, she went to my university and told my professors I was a witch.

  After graduation, I returned home. I had come to terms with my ability. If I was going to see ghosts, I might as well put it to good use. So, I became a journalist.

  My articles always contained insights no one else had, and my career flourished.

  Just as I had decided to embrace my life and move forward—I met you. And your sister.

  To you, I must have seemed like just another stranger striking up conversation. But what you didn’t know was that I met you because of her.

  At first, I thought she was your girlfriend. Or maybe your younger sister—she looked so young. But then I noticed… no one else could see her.

  She asked for my help. She was worried about you and your mother. But the strange thing was, she never stayed long. She always vanished mid-sentence, as if being pulled away by something unseen.

  She appeared in my dreams, in my waking visions. That’s why I came to find you.

  The day I took your photo—she was sitting right beside you. She was so shy. I had to gesture for ages before she finally worked up the courage to sit next to you.

  ---

  Hearing Lin’s story, I felt paralyzed. My feet seemed to sink into the floor, and my chest grew unbearably heavy.

  A world unseen by the human eye… could it really exist?

  And if it did, was she here now?

  I glanced around my room. The familiar walls suddenly felt foreign.

  The balance had been shattered. Forever.

  Memories flooded my mind. And this time, in each one, I was no longer alone.

  If I saw her again… what would I say?

  And more importantly—what did she want to tell me?

  A strange mix of relief and fear took root in my heart.

  Next Chapter Preview: ??

  The world of the supernatural isn’t limited to whispers in the dark or spirits lurking in forgotten corners. Sometimes, they find new ways to reach us… even through our screens.