I guess I'll go back to the bar. [Halloween Special 2023.]

When you return to the lobby, you quickly discover that Marcelina is still at the bar, attending to… literally no one. She’s idling by herself, staring out the window with a bored expression. When you slide into her view, her gaze darts back to you. “Hello?”

“Care to waste time with me?”

“Not exactly doing anything,” Marcelina smiles slightly. “Your girlfriend not entertaining you or what?”

“She’s sleeping,” you explain, then clear your throat. “We’re not steady.”

She brushes back her green hair behind her ear and studies you with amusement. “So then, that makes you innocent?” She leans in with her chin resting on the palm of her hand. If nothing else, at least she’s noticing you.

You’re fixed a strong drink. Delilah and the other girls at Tiny’s Tavern seem more proficient in mixology because your drink produced isn’t just more potent than usual and contains a meaner after bite of the alcoholic backbone. Despite that, you keep your face from twisting.

“So, how long have you worked here?”

“Almost two full years,” she says. “I would have quit my first month if it weren’t for the tips these clowns give me.”

There’s an apparent smug shadow in her smile and gleaming eyes. You dart your gaze down and see her gesturing a tip by rubbing her index and middle finger against the pad of her thumb. You knit your brows and regard her with a slightly sour expression. “I’m not tipping you.”

Marcelina rolls her eyes dramatically and then pushes away from the counter. “I had to try. You’ve been relatively stubborn when coining to the needy, such as yours truly.”

“You’re not needy,” you try drinking again but quickly remember why you stopped initially. “What do you honestly need? Everyone here seems rather content with living here. Take that with a grain of salt, though. I haven’t spent much time here.”

“No,” she sighs. “You’re not wrong. Trust me, everyone here that willing lives here generally wants to be here. You’ll be hard-pressed to find a soul that’d want to be anywhere else.”

You look at her firmly. “And how about you?”

“It’s fine,” she tells you unconvincingly. “I mean that. The people aren’t assholes, and the travelers that come usually aren’t shit. Usually.”

Her gaze fixes on you as if she’s trying to relay something. You aren’t stupid, however. “What do you get against me? Don’t tell me you’re jealous of how I entertain myself. That would make you terribly shallow.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” Marcelina laughs loudly suddenly. "Actually... It’s a good thing you came down here to talk to me, by the way,” her eyes danced all over you, but there was lust in her gaze. “I was supposed to go down to the basement. Now that I have to do customer support, I have a decent enough excuse not to strain myself with work.”

You laugh, finishing your stiff drink with a hard swallow. “Scared of the basement?” You smile to hide the discomfort of her cocktail.

“Honestly,” she sucks on her teeth. “A little.”

“You got a secret admirer in the workplace?” Marcelina knits her brows when you say this, so you continue. “Let me rephrase. Do you have a stalker that follows you down there?”

She sings a laugh. Despite her boyish, bratty demeanor, her voice is attractive when it isn’t accompanied by sarcasm. “Now, if I tell you what the problem is, you have to promise me not to laugh.”

Her eyes sparkle with entertainment as she waits for your reply.

“I promise to stifle any kind of laughter your reasoning might conjure up,” you lean into the counter, making her lower her gaze. “Now, what is it?”

“I think this place is haunted,” she sighs, then sticks her finger out to indicate there’s more. Apparently, your growing smile made her nervous. “When I say this place,” she gestures to the bar. “I really mean the basement below.”

You nod slowly, but your grin spreads from ear-to-ear. “You can hire me to walk down the flight of stairs.”

Her warm attitude switched, and she blinked. You see her harden again. “Mercenary,” she says like an insult.

“How about I just go down with you and carry out whatever duty you have so I don’t have to pay for the drink?”

“Fine,” she relents. “But this is a one-time thing. Everything else you’re paying for, got that?”

“Sure,” you say, figuring you won’t return here anytime soon after you leave with Scarlet. Marcelina opens the bar and allows you in before leading you to a closet with a trap door. Beneath the door is a barely visible staircase, even after she flips the switch for the lights. “Lady’s first.”

“My knight in shining armor! How considerate of him to let the young maiden down the dark, most dreaded place in the bar first!”

“Alright, princess— let’s not be needlessly rude about it. If you really want me to go down first, I’ll owe you that much.”

“Please do,” she says, not sounding sincere. “And I’ll be right behind you.”

After a couple of steps, you start to feel a little uneasy. Especially after your combined shadows start to blotch out the already dim lights. Every step protests your weight as it sets down on top of it, and the ceiling is low enough that the cobwebs brush against the top of your head. The temperature cools, and soon, you’re regretting not wearing a heavier jacket.

Marcelina complains first. “It won’t get much colder than this,” she says.

“What was this?”

“It's storage now, but supposedly before it was a bomb shelter that saved the founders of this place— Uh, I mean— Highlight. Not the bar.”

At the bottom, you’re met with an underground tunnel system. It’s not in-depth, but you wouldn’t have suspected such a discovery. Support beams suspend exposed light bulbs that produce almost nothing. It’s cold and silent… and allegedly haunted.

“Where am I going?”

“Just to the end of the tunnel,” Marcelina tells you.

You come to a closed door and press your hand against it. As suspected, it’s locked. “You got any keys?”

“Yes,” she mumbles. “Move it.”

Marcelina’s body heat is comforting. Now you realize she’s got a lovely smell emitting from her. You listen to the keys jingling and then the lock disengaging. She steps inside first and then flips another switch. A brighter light ignites the whole room. Inside, there are stacks of boxes and bags of produce. Marcelina crosses her arms and pinches her nose, listing things she needs to stock the counter with her voice.

“They want you to carry this up on your own?” You inquire, unsure if this task is worthy of free labor.

“Someone was supposed to do this last night but didn’t for some reason,” she exhales loudly through her nose. “Probably too scared to come down here too.”

Slowly, you nod, looking around the room. “What do you want me to grab?”

“None of it’s heavy,” she looks back at you, her gaze momentarily darting behind your back. “Make sure the door doesn’t close while I get all of this organized to be carried out. Has a tendency to do that.”

“Ghosts?” You offer jokingly.

“Uuuh-huh.”

You listen to Marcelina shuffle around bags and boxes, humming to herself nervously as it takes up more and more time to get it all organized. However, it’s otherwise silent as you hold the door open for her. Once everything is ready, you haul everything upstairs all in one trip. However, just as you were getting settled into your stool, she gasped.

You watch her pat around her butt and pockets in search of something. She unleashes a curse from under her breath. “I forgot my notepad in the basement. I’ll—“

“I’ll get it,” you say. “Don’t want you to get spooked out of your head before we’re done talking.”

Surprisingly, she looks genuinely happy to see you offer your hand. “Thanks, Warren. Even though I know you’re just trying to get my recommendation for hire,” she winks.

You retrace your steps without needing any assistance from Marcelina and return to the stairs. You take immediate notice that it’s still cold and that there’s still an eerie silence that keeps you company. Without Marcelina's presence keeping you grounded, you feel yourself becoming anxious…

On your final step, you felt yourself fall through the ground. Not so much like a broken panel or board, but like you missed the last step and fell forward.

…

…

You don’t remember passing out, so when you realize you’re suddenly in a large room tinted yellow by buzzing fluorescent lights above, you feel like you might have. You stand up and cough a few times before patting yourself clean. No dust is disrupted, but you cough again anyway.

“Mar—“ you cut your voice short, and the hair on the back of your neck raises. You spin around, expecting to see someone there, but all you see is more of the same thing. Unconnected walls and rows of piss-colored fluorescents… you’re alone…

“Alright,” you whisper, but the room is so silent that it sounds like you’re talking in a normal volume. “What now?”