Frustrated shouts echoed from outside, a voice laced with exasperation. "Why can't you pests ever get it right?" The words pierced through the remnants of a dreadful night, haunted by the spectral whispers that lingered in this apartment. After enduring the heart-wrenching company of those restless spirits, I finally managed to have my breakfast and set off toward the art gallery.

It was my sanctuary, a place where I could bare my soul without fear of judgment. Art had been my steadfast companion since the day my mother chose to leave this world, her life extinguished in a tragic act that I had witnessed firsthand. The memory of that moment still clung to me, a shadow I could never fully escape.

My small silhouette lingered in the doorway as the paramedics hurried to bring her down. As they carefully untied the rope from her neck, her hair cascaded back, unveiling a face as pale as porcelain. The eyes that once sparkled with love, the very eyes that had cherished me, were now vacant, her eyes where missing.

I shook off the haunting memories of my mother’s passing and forced myself back to the present. Stepping out of my modest one-bedroom apartment, I was greeted by a chaotic array of boxes, each labeled with names and categories, remnants of a life once vibrant.

The apartment complex was narrow and unassuming from the outside, but inside, it offered a surprising amount of space. It boasted three floors, each housing two separate apartments.

After settling into my second-floor unit, I had enjoyed the solitude of having no neighbors—until today. Most had departed, driven away by the rising costs, while a few had fled, unnerved by the strange sounds emanating from my side.

The owner had inundated me with complaints, urging me to vacate the premises due to the chaos I had created. Now, with a new tenant settled in, a sense of tranquility washed over me, though I couldn't shake the uncertainty of how long it would last.

As I descended the staircase, I encountered a pair of deep, coffee-brown eyes that seemed to pierce through the air. His features were strikingly masculine, and the contours of his biceps strained against the fabric of his black t-shirt. My gaze drifted past him to a woman standing behind, draped in a wedding gown that was shockingly stained with crimson, her expression eerily blank. "Jungkook," she murmured softly, her voice barely a whisper. A chill ran down my spine, and I instinctively took a step back. He turned to glance behind and back at me, bemusement flickering across his face as he rolled his eyes.

"Do you think you own the stairs now?" he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm as he brushed past me. I stepped aside, feeling the weight of the woman’s gaze upon me, and I held my breath, as if that alone could render me invisible.

As I stepped out of the building, a wave of relief washed over me. That had been a narrow escape, yet a long day loomed ahead. The specters didn’t confine themselves to my apartment; they lurked in every shadow, every alley. I brushed past them, pretending they were just ordinary people, while the rest of the world remained blissfully unaware of the ethereal beings that roamed the city. To avoid drawing their attention, I had to maintain the facade of normalcy.

Upon arriving at my workspace, I made my way to my office, where I meticulously arranged the artworks destined for display in honor of our new CEO’s arrival.

Just then, Rita burst in, her face alight with enthusiasm. 
“Hey bestie!” she exclaimed, wrapping me in a hug that nearly knocked the breath out of me. 
“You seem excited!” I laughed, amused by her exuberance. She shot me a look that said, “Well, obviously,” before continuing. 
“Of course I’m excited! First, we’re finally rid of that insufferable Kristina, and second, I heard the new CEO is a young, handsome man!” she declared, tossing her hair with a flourish.

She was absolutely correct; our former CEO, Kristina, had been a relentless source of frustration. The slightest mistake would send her into a frenzy, and the tension in the office was palpable. While I felt a wave of relief wash over me at the thought of no longer enduring her wrath, a flicker of anxiety sparked at the prospect of our new leader.

"Did you catch his name?" I inquired, cradling the artworks in my hands as we exited my cabin together, anticipation buzzing in the air. 
"Oh, yes! It's Jeon Jungkook," she replied. The moment I heard that name, I froze in my tracks.

"Attention all staff! Please gather at the front door; Mr. Jeon has arrived!" Leo, our project manager, called out with an air of authority. 
"What? But he’s early! Oh my goodness! Elli, I’ll see you up front—bye!" Rita exclaimed, rushing off and leaving me standing there, momentarily stunned.

It’s just a coincidence, I reassured myself. But as I turned the corner, I was met with the all-too-familiar coffee-brown eyes and the specter of the dead bride that seemed to follow him.