I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

Chapter 4

“What happened… where the hell am I?”

Raito’s eyes snapped open, head throbbing like someone had used it as a punching bag.

Soft surface under him. Too soft.

A bed. Real sheets, warm blanket, actual pillows.

He blinked hard, turning his head slow.

Dim amber light spilled from hidden lamps, painting the room in warm gold. Sleek furniture. Neat shelves lined with books and weird gadgets. Everything screamed money, class, control.

Nothing like the cheap apartments or empty hallways he knew.

‘This place… what the—?’

Then he saw her.

Back turned, sitting relaxed at a desk, laptop glowing in front of her.

“Yes,” she said, voice low, fingers flying across keys. “Still no clue what he is exactly. Thinking I’ll drag him along in the morning.”

Raito’s breath snagged.

‘That voice.’

No doubt.

Peace.

A rough male voice crackled from the speakers. “You trust him?”

She didn’t even pause typing.

“Don’t worry,” she said, casual as ordering coffee. “I can handle him. Kid’s a small fry.”

Click. Call ended.

She kept typing like the world didn’t exist outside that screen.

Raito’s heart started pounding.

‘What is this place? Why am I here… with her? Am I in danger? Who the hell was she even talking about?’

Chest tight, cold sweat prickling.

Then it hit him.

She’d toyed with that ghost like it was nothing. Moved like a nightmare herself.

Compared to her?

He wasn’t even small fry.

A bad feeling crawled up his spine.

‘I don’t know why… but every instinct is screaming: stay the hell away from her.’

Careful now.

Raito swung one foot off the bed, testing the floor like it might bite.

Then the other.

He stood, heart hammering in his ears like a war drum.

‘Just get out. Door’s right there. That’s all that matters.’

She still had her back to him, typing away.

Perfect.

One step.

Then—slip.

His foot hit a tiny puddle of water. Balance? Gone.

THUD.

He crashed hard, ass-first, the impact echoing like a gunshot in the quiet room.

And then—

“HAHAHA!”

Explosive laughter filled the air.

Of course it was Peace—spun around in her chair now, shoulders shaking, pointing straight at him like he was the best comedy special she’d seen all year.

“Hahaha! Gotcha,” she wheezed, wiping a fake tear. “You really fell for that rookie trap.”

Raito scrambled up, panic spiking, staggering back with hands up like she was about to swing.

“P-please don’t hurt me!” he blurted, voice shaking bad.

She only laughed harder, head thrown back.

BANG!

Something heavy slammed the wall next door. A groggy dude voice roared through, “Will you all shut the hell up?! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

Peace grinned wider, cupping her hands like a megaphone.

“How about you sleep outside, grumpy pants? That’d be fun!”

‘Is she gonna come for me next…?’ Raito’s heart jackhammered so hard it hurt.

Then she stood.

Pink sleeveless nightgown—cute, flowy, totally not fight gear. One hand over her mouth like she was hiding a giggle, the other waving him closer, slow and teasing, as she sauntered toward the bed.

“Come on,” she cooed, soft and sweet. “Let’s continue.”

“W-wait—what?!” Raito’s voice cracked, brain short-circuiting. “I don’t wanna do it, please—!”

“Do what?”

The voice came from right behind him.

Raito froze,

He whipped around.

Peace was still at the desk—exactly where she’d been the whole damn time.

The pink-gown nightmare by the bed? Vanished. Gone like smoke.

It slammed into him all at once.

His own fear had cooked up that whole scene—twisted her into something even scarier than she already was.

Peace raised an eyebrow, grin slow and wicked.

“Whoa,” she said, voice dripping with amusement. “That’s what you thought I was gonna do?”

She scoffed, loud and dramatic. “There’s zero chance in hell I'm doing that with you.”

Cheeks burning just a little (she’d never admit it), she marched over to the bed, flopped down, and turned her back to him.

“Get some sleep,” she ordered, firm and final. “Tomorrow’s gonna be a long damn day.”

Short pause.

“And don’t even think about pulling another escape stunt.”

For Raito? Yeah.

Sleep wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Morning hit like a slap.

Raito sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flying open.

Not the fancy room.

Cold stone bit into his back. He was sprawled on the floor.

He shot upright, heart racing, scanning wild.

Massive hall—ceiling soaring so high it felt like the sky had been stolen and trapped inside. Thick pillars lined the walls like ancient guards. Air heavy, old, thick with purpose and discipline.

Right in front of him: Peace.

Next to her, a guy decked head-to-toe in black—posture razor-straight, hand resting easy on the hilt of a sword like he was born with it there. Total samurai vibes.

“…Where the hell am I now?” Raito croaked, voice rough from sleep and straight-up fear.

The guy smirked, lazy and sharp.

“Wow,” he said, casual as hell. “He’s actually alive. Honestly shocked the kid didn’t croak in his sleep.”

He flicked a glance at Peace. “Your babysitting skills are improving. Nice.”

“Shut up, Hank,” Peace said, not even looking at him.

Then she turned to Raito, eyes locked, expression impossible to read.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Not great,” Raito admitted, swallowing hard. “But I’m breathing. So… where am I this time?”

Peace folded her arms, stance all business.

“Can’t spill everything yet,” she said coolly. “Not until we’re sure about you.”

She paused, stare drilling into him.

“But there are a few things you need to know.”

Raito hesitated, throat tight.

“Like what?”