Chapter 7: Haters and the Hereafter

So everything Savannah had was bought with her parents’ lives.

No wonder she was haunted. Guilt like that never goes away.

I sent Savannah back to her body. To others, it looked like we had just fainted.

I snapped my fingers, and the mind space dissolved. We both jolted awake, gasping for air.

When Savannah woke, she looked around in terror. After confirming she was back in the real world, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Her hands shook as she clutched the couch cushion. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

I stood in front of her, staring hard.

She refused to meet my eyes. Her face was pale, lips trembling.

The moment our eyes met, Savannah looked away in panic and tried to explain:

She stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

"Lila, why are you looking at me? I just... slipped by accident."

I almost laughed. Her nerves are really something.

I raised an eyebrow, letting her squirm.

"Really? Your slip was that precise?"

She bit her lip, trying to look innocent. I wasn’t buying it.

Savannah blinked innocently and said softly:

"I really didn’t mean it, Lila, I used to be like this too, you know..."

The fake tears were coming. I rolled my eyes.

Of course I know. Her previous ‘slips’ were always blackening me.

She’d mastered the art of plausible deniability.

When it comes to smearing me, Savannah is the master.

She played the victim so well, she could’ve won an Oscar.

"Cut the act. I’m talking, you’re echoing."

I snapped at her, and Savannah’s eyes instantly reddened.

She sniffled, bottom lip quivering. I almost felt bad. Almost.

Her agent immediately snapped:

"Lila, don’t go too far. No one even knows if you’re human or spirit. I told you, Savannah just made a mistake. Who are you yelling at?"

The agent glared at me, arms crossed, ready to call security if needed.

"Yeah, why are you so petty?"

Savannah’s assistants chimed in.

They looked at each other, then at me, like I was the villain in a soap opera.

"Shut up, it’s not your place to talk. I’m talking, you’re echoing. Get out, I want to talk to her alone."

I cut them off, but Savannah objected:

She straightened up, trying to regain control.

"Why? Lila, you can yell at me, but not my agent and assistants. And this is my room. If anyone should leave, it’s you."

I looked at her coldly. If she wouldn’t talk alone, then I wouldn’t hold back.

I shrugged, letting my silence speak for itself.

"Fine, let’s all stay."

I folded my arms, daring her to keep up the act.

"Savannah, in your dream just now, did you see your biological parents? You think that was a coincidence..."

I let the words hang, watching her reaction.

"Lila!"

The moment I said ‘biological parents,’ Savannah’s eyes widened. She sat up and shouted:

Her voice cracked, panic clear as day.

"Megan, Riley, you two go out first. I... really do have something to discuss with Lila..."

She softened her tone. Her agent Megan was confused and tried to ask, but Savannah pushed her out.

She all but shoved them out the door. When it clicked shut, the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Once the room was quiet, Savannah’s eyes turned fierce:

She glared at me, dropping the act.

"Who... who are you? What do you want?"

Her voice was sharp, all pretense gone.

I looked up at her, slowly pulled a chair in front of her and sat down:

I took my time, letting the tension build.

"Didn’t you see that Instagram post? Who I am, whether I’m human or spirit, shouldn’t you know better than me?"

I gave her a creepy smile and continued:

She flinched, but I pressed on.

"Looks like you still don’t realize what happened to me just now, or you’d never dare act up again..."

With that, I pulled off my head right in front of her.

The sound was wet and unnatural. Savannah’s scream was ear-splitting.

Savannah screamed, her cries drawing Megan from outside.

Megan’s fists pounded on the door. Bang. Bang. I ignored her.

Megan kept banging on the door, asking what was wrong.

Her voice was muffled but frantic. Savannah didn’t answer.

"Think before you speak. I know everything about you."

I let the threat hang, watching her tremble.

Savannah fell silent, waited a moment, then replied:

Her voice was barely audible, shaky.

"It’s nothing, Megan, you... you go first."

Megan asked a few more times, but Savannah brushed her off. Only after Megan left did Savannah suddenly fall to her knees.

She collapsed, hands clasped, sobbing.

She banged her head on the floor, begging my forgiveness.

Her voice was raw, desperate. Tears streaked her face.

I thought she was afraid of dying, until she said:

Her words were bitter, angry, defiant.

"You can’t expose me. Besides, what happened back then wasn’t my fault. It was them! They were careless!"

There it is.

Even now, she blamed everyone but herself. Some people never change.

Savannah still felt no remorse, even now.

I shook my head, feeling something close to pity.

I rolled my eyes, wanting to scold her, but in the end could only sigh.

It wasn’t worth it. She was her own worst punishment.

We spirits can’t interfere with human fate. No matter how evil someone is, we can’t intervene too much—at most, torment their spirit. You don’t want to know what enforcement does if you break that rule.

The rules are strict. Karma takes care of the rest.

But clearly, Savannah’s spirit had reached its limit. No one could torment her more.

Her eyes were hollow, haunted. I’d seen enough.

I slowly picked up my head and reattached it, then said to her:

The click was final. I met her gaze, steady and cold.

"I never planned to come for you. Someone else will punish you for your heartless deeds. I have my own problems to solve. Karma doesn’t need my help."

I stood, brushing imaginary dust from my dress.

"You should know what you need to do, right?"

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her answer.

As soon as she realized I wouldn’t expose her, Savannah jumped up.

She scrambled to her feet, wiping her face.

She wiped away her tears:

Her smile was shaky, desperate to please.

"I know, I know. Whatever you want, I’ll do it right now!"

She practically ran to her phone, fingers flying.

Savannah posted an apology, expressing regret for her "slip."

The post went up within seconds. Comments poured in.

She also confirmed we were just acting and not possessed by a spirit, attaching a photo of us together from earlier.

The photo was blurry, but it did the job. Fans started to calm down.

After that, she mobilized her fan club to help me manage the comments.

The SavanTy Squad went into overdrive, posting supportive edits, pinned clarifications, and flooding the hashtags with positivity.

I have to admit, Savannah’s fans are pretty effective.

Within minutes, the narrative started to shift. I almost wanted to thank them.

In just half an hour, the rumors about me being a spirit had completely flipped.

The trending topics now read: #LilaAndSavannahBesties #ChillKitchenTimeDrama #FakeNews.

Tyler, who’d been missing, also returned to the set.

He walked in with a calm smile, nodding at me in silent approval.

After talking, I learned he’d gone to deal with the paranormal expert.

Turns out, the "expert" was a spirit in disguise. Tyler handled it quietly, no fuss.

That so-called expert was actually a spirit in human skin, and he’d just been sent back to the afterlife for soul annihilation.

Word travels fast in the spirit world. No one would try that trick again for a while.

The filming of "Chill Kitchen Time" continued, and I, once looked down on by everyone, became the real center of attention.

The crew treated me like royalty. Even the chefs started asking for selfies.

Everyone treated me with great respect, which made netizens unhappy again:

[u/WhySoSpecial: Seriously, why doesn’t Lila have to cook?]

[u/DivaMeter: Such a diva—does the crew invite her just to chill?]

[u/RoastMaster: I want to roast her, everyone okay with that?]

[u/MemeLord: Lila when asked to whisk eggs: 🪑]

I smirked, watching the comments roll in. Spirit energy spiked (yeah, I check the meter). Dad would be thrilled.

Looking at the soaring spirit energy, I was in a fantastic mood.

I leaned back in my chair, humming to myself. Let them hate—it’s good for business.

After the show ended, all the bad things Savannah had done were dug up by an anonymous user.

Receipts dropped like rain. Screenshots, videos, old interviews—all laid bare.

I was shocked but still eager for gossip. I found the whistleblower’s Twitter, and when I saw the IP was timestamped from ‘N/A,’ I knew the truth.

Only a spirit could hide their tracks that well. I grinned, shaking my head.

Savannah was taken to the police station the same night.

Paparazzi swarmed the steps. The flashing lights were blinding. Savannah kept her head down, but the cameras caught every tear.

Because of her influence, the police station was surrounded by reporters.

News vans lined the block. Fans camped out, chanting her name. The circus was in full swing.

I watched a reporter’s livestream to see how Savannah was doing, and by chance, I saw her bloodshot eyes staring straight at the camera.

She looked straight through the lens, her glare icy. I shivered, but didn’t look away.

I knew she was glaring at me.

I could feel the blame radiating off her. I almost felt bad. Almost.

She must think I was the one who leaked it.

She always needed someone to blame. This time, it was me.

But I really didn’t have the guts...

I sighed, closing my laptop. Some things were better left unsaid.

Two days after Savannah was arrested, news broke that she died suddenly at the police station; cause under investigation. Her fans, who once worshipped her, started cursing her:

The headlines were brutal. The comment sections were even worse.

[u/JusticeServed: Killed her own parents for money, deserves to die.]

[u/WhyDidIStan: How did I ever stan this? Disgusting.]

[u/RegretFan: I can’t believe I was a fan of a murderer—I’m tainted!]

[u/NoSympathy: As for her death, all I can say is: serves her right!]

The internet turned on her in record time. I scrolled through the comments, feeling oddly empty.

I saw Savannah again two months later, when I went back to the afterlife to switch bodies and passed by The Wretched Row.

The air was colder there, the shadows deeper. Even I didn’t like lingering.

As the name suggests, The Wretched Row is where those who committed heinous crimes in life stay after death.

It’s the afterlife’s version of a no-parole block. No light, no warmth, just endless regret.

It’s cold and dark, and every spirit there suffers endlessly and can never reincarnate.

The cries echo for miles. It’s a place you don’t forget.

When Savannah saw me, she shot up from the crowd and flew at me:

Her hair was wild, her eyes bloodshot. She lunged, shrieking.

"Bitch, I’ll kill you! It’s all your fault!"

Her voice was ragged, twisted with hate. I stood my ground, unfazed.

Just as she was about to reach me, a male spirit beside her tossed her aside:

He was huge, with chains around his wrists. He glared at her, then at me, nodding in respect.

"Crazy woman, trying to kill the Spirit King’s daughter? Do you want your soul destroyed?"

Nearby spirits murmured, "That’s her?" and shrank back as he spoke.

His voice boomed, echoing down the row. Savannah shrank back, fear flickering in her eyes.

Hearing this, Savannah looked at me in disbelief.

Her jaw dropped. She looked from him to me, realization dawning.

I curled my lips at her and, imitating her old style, said:

I pitched my voice high, mocking her signature catchphrase.

"Hey, you were fine in the living world, we were equals. Now, when you see me, you’d better go around, or things won’t go well for you."

Petty? Absolutely.

I gave her a little finger wave, just to twist the knife.

Savannah screamed in fury, trying to attack me again but was kicked back.

The male spirit laughed, shoving her deeper into the shadows. She howled, but no one cared.

As I was leaving, she suddenly called my name:

Her voice was desperate, pleading.

"Lila Whitaker! Save me, we at least talked before..."

I stopped, looked back coldly:

I let my face go blank, letting her hope flicker for just a second.

"Sure, wait for me, I’ll come in a while."

My tone was light, almost teasing.

Savannah’s eyes lit up and she nodded desperately:

She clung to the bars, hope shining in her eyes.

"Okay, okay, you must come!"

I left to her grateful cries.

Her voice echoed after me, growing weaker. I didn’t look back.

Of course I won’t save her. Let her cling to hope until she breaks.

Some lessons can’t be taught. They have to be lived.

After all, I still have to go back to the living world to get roasted. Where would I find time to save her?

The afterlife is eternal, but drama waits for no one. There’s always another show, another scandal. Haters gonna hate. Ratings gonna rate.