What happens in the Departed Realm, Stays in the Departed Realm

I Survive the Ghost Mansion Social Hour (Barely)

"Well then," she announced, surveying the group. "Since no one's storming off in righteous fury... I suppose we're hosting."

James blinked. "Wait—hosting?"

"She means a party," Kiara said, sighing. "And yes. She's serious."

Morro, arms crossed, gave her a skeptical look. "This is my house, you know."

Lloyd added from the corner, "Ours, technically."

Madeline turned toward them both with practiced poise. "Which is why I'm asking—with full transparency and great respect—if we may use your shared estate for an impromptu gathering of souls from multiple wings, supervised and refined, of course."

Morro stared.

Lloyd blinked.

Kiara whispered, "She's giving you the fancy version of 'please.'"

Morro rubbed his temple. "You'll plan it either way, won't you?"

Madeline's expression remained flawless. "Only with permission."

Lloyd shrugged. "Let her. She's already halfway done with the prep list, and she'll guilt-trip the lanterns into working properly."

Morro groaned. "Fine. But I'm not dealing with cleanup if someone sets off a fog alarm again."

James, already backing away, added, "That was technically your fault last time."

"I thought it was atmospheric!"

"Your fog had emotions," Kiara snapped.

Madeline lifted her chin. "If you two gentlemen are willing to share your home for the evening, I will ensure decorum is maintained, no enchantments misfire, and no one attempts to animate the tea set again."

Lloyd raised a brow. "You can't guarantee that."

"I can strongly discourage it."

Morro sighed. "Fine. You're the hostess. But if someone starts singing, I'm leaving."

"Noted," Madeline said, already unrolling a parchment scroll. 

------

The first wave of guests had barely settled when three teenagers stumbled in with the kind of energy that screamed "should not be unsupervised."

Three sets of footsteps echoed in, each with a different rhythm—confident, practical, and... trying way too hard to be nonchalant. First came a tall figure in black and gold, posture sharp and smug. He walked like he was waiting for a spotlight to follow him. Behind him strode a girl with a calm demeanor and efficient posture, sleeves rolled up like she'd just walked out of a meeting. Her tone was polite, but alert. The last, in a crisp coat and gloves, ambled in with hands in his pockets, glancing around like he was assessing a crime scene.

"Brad Tudabone," James muttered under his breath, already predicting the chaos.

"And Gene and Sally," Kiara added, catching Sally just as she nearly knocked over a lantern. "Fantastic."

"Who let them in all at once?" Morro asked from behind her.

Lloyd perked up immediately. "Guys!"

"Lloyd!" Brad yelled, completely ignoring the general decorum of the event. "Dude, this place is SICK. And you've got snacks??"

"Lloyd" James muttered. "And his band of barely-contained disasters."

"Gene, Sally," Kiara said flatly. "We have rules now."