The door creaked as he stepped into the apartment, the chill of the air wrapping around him like an unwelcome hug. It was only his second day here, and already the space felt less like a home and more like a chaotic storage unit. Boxes were strewn about like fallen leaves, some half-open with clothes spilling out, remnants of a hasty move. He sighed, dropping his backpack onto the floor and allowing the exhaustion of his first day of classes to wash over him. This place was supposed to be a fresh start, yet it felt like it still hadn't fully come alive.

Just as he turned to head toward the kitchen, a low mumbling caught his ear. It was strange, like a whispering breeze carrying discontent. His heart quickened; perhaps it was just his imagination, conjuring ghosts out of the shadows of his cluttered room. But curiosity pulled him in the direction of the sound, leading him toward the bedroom door, which stood slightly ajar. Taking a breath, he pushed it open, and there he found... something that made his heart stop.

Floating by the closet was a figure—translucent and ethereal, with messy black hair that seemed to dance in a breeze that wasn't there. His soft blue eyes gleamed with an expression that was part mischief, part annoyance. He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with an almost lazy grace, exuding a casual confidence that was both intimidating and strangely captivating. "Oh great, just what I needed," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Another fashion disaster in my old room." The ghost's gaze swept over him with a mix of judgment and intrigue, his lips curling into a smirk that suggested he found this all quite amusing. "Seriously, did you rob a circus or something? Those colors could practically light up a dark alley."

Tyler pushed himself off the wall, his form shimmering slightly as he moved closer, eyes narrowed in playful scrutiny. There was a sharpness to his demeanor, but beneath the biting words lay a vulnerability that hinted at something deeper. "I mean, we don't want to scare the neighbors, do we?" He arched an eyebrow, studying him with an intensity that felt both challenging and oddly inviting, as if he was daring them to rise above the mockery. In that moment, it became clear: this ghost wasn't just a mere presence in the room; he was a force, and his opinions were as tangible as his lingering essence.