A pale, luminous entity glides past the corridor, clutching a stolen book.
The security camera captures its ghostly white radiance, flickering through the gloom of the hallway.
?The figure—was it a he or a she?—settles down right in front of the Doctor’s door, engrossed in its pages.
3:00 AM. An unusual hour for a reading session.
?"Could it be that fox-masked brat?" the Doctor mutters. "Coming here for a prank? He's young enough for it."
?He leans in, squinting at the monitor.
Long hair. A woman?
Did he bring a companion?
But this wasn't a fox.
"Do we have anyone like that in this house?"
The more he stares, the more the truth slips away. Perhaps it was better left unseen.
?Naturally, the Doctor has no truck with the occult.
"A reflection of light... or a camera malfunction," she reasons, trying to ground her racing heart.
?"Good morning."
?Clamo enters with a polite bow.
"Good morning, Clamo. You’re up early. You could’ve rested longer. By the way... does this footage ring a bell?" the Doctor asks, cutting straight to the point.
?Clamo leans in, eyes wide with genuine curiosity.
"Whoa! Incredible! Do we actually have ghosts in this place?"
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
?Don't the youth of today have any sense of dread? the Doctor wonders. This isn't supposed to be 'cool.'
It seemed Clamo was genuinely clueless.
?Within moments, Byakko arrives with tea.
"Good morning. Here is your tea," the automaton drones.
?"Clamo," the Doctor says, "Do you like black tea? We have green tea, lingonberry, chamomile, pu-erh... take your pick."
?"I can drink anything, thank you. Black tea for me," Clamo says, plonking himself down right next to Byakko.
Close. Too close. The boy was getting comfortable far too quickly.
?"Toraemon, do you know anything about this ghost?"
?"Never seen it before~" Toraemon chirps.
?But for a fleeting second, behind the mask, Clamo giggles.
?"You just laughed, didn't you?"
?"Eh? No, not at all!"
?THUD. THUD. THUD.
?Something—or someone—sprints across the ceiling at a furious pace.
?"Toraemon, we’re checking it out!"
"On it!"
?(The Second Floor Hallway)
?A disappointment.
A single black cat.
Had it slipped in through the window? It meows, rubbing against them.
Byakko tries to move it, but the cat clings to its arm.
"Fine, we'll keep it," the Doctor sighs. "Make Clamo give it a bath."
?Aside from the feline intruder, the air was still. No other presence. A total anti-climax.
?"Doctor," Clamo speaks up, his voice low. "I’m sorry for hiding something important."
?Important?
?"The one reading at 3:00 AM... that was me."
?"Then why in front of my room?" the Doctor demands.
?"I was reading in the Tiger Jail Tower. I never went to your room, Doctor. I didn't even pass the hallway. I think... I think this 'ghost' was following me."
?The story unfolds. Clamo had crashed at 8:00 PM out of exhaustion and woken up before dawn.
He woke to a strange sound from the bookshelf and sat beside Byakko to read a manga he'd snuck in from home. He found the situation so absurd—being so hooked on a comic at that hour—that he had laughed to himself.
?While he was lost in the pages, ignoring Byakko's mechanical hum, something had been lurking right behind him.
?A boy of few words, Clamo had always been misunderstood.
And wherever he went, strange coincidences seemed to follow in parallel.
?The investigation was put on hold for lunch.
The snack was a "Jujube Paste Mochi," the Doctor’s own invention inspired by a period drama.
A Mille-feuille of mochi and sweet bean paste, layered with finely chopped jujubes and poppy seeds soaked in sugar—a sophisticated, "adult" flavor.
A fusion of Eastern tradition and Eastern European Christmas treats. It was dense and rich.
?"Well, it seems the culprit isn't you," the Doctor says, taking a bite.
?But Clamo, with sweat beads forming on his neck, finally finds the courage to speak.
?"Doctor... there is something constantly by my side."
