As night fell, the streets of the city emptied, and the pale light of the moon illuminated the houses shrouded in fog. Lara, who had never believed in the supernatural, entered the seemingly abandoned perfumery on a strange impulse. The shop’s old, faded sign creaked in the wind, and the door opened on its own before her.

Inside, everything fell silent. Time seemed to blur, and only the heavy, spicy scents lingering in the air remained. The perfumes lining the shelves were all worn, as if they had been waiting untouched for their fate for many long years. One bottle caught Lara’s eye—Ghost.

The bottle was translucent, as if it had formed from the mist itself, and as Lara opened it, the scent seemed to flow out, filling the space. The transparent depth of sandalwood blended seamlessly into the cold air, while the softness of cashmere gave her the eerie sensation of something warm, yet unknown, brushing against her skin. The fragile bloom of blue chamomile evoked memories Lara had never experienced—as if it were the whisper of another life. The almost suffocating note of anise swirled around her, as though something from the shadows was watching.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. Behind Lara, the faint sound of footsteps echoed. She turned for a moment, but no one was there. Yet the scent did not release her—it was as if the perfume had come alive, a presence now standing close by her side. Ghost was not just a fragrance. It was something more, something darker, connecting her to what lay hidden beyond the veil. A memory, or perhaps a soul, that would now never leave.

Lara stepped out of the shop, but the scent still hovered around her, growing heavier and more suffocating, as if the lost souls had no intention of letting her go. The streets were empty once more, but Lara knew she was no longer alone.