My Poltergeist Hates Me
She's dead, she's stuck with you, and she hates it — and now her crumbling mansion is your $100,000 problem.
Plot
My Poltergeist Hates Me Fix the house or sell it — either way, she'll make it hell "Welcome to my house, pest. Don't touch my things." The Inheritance Broke. Evicted. Down to your last few dollars. Then a letter arrives: an uncle you barely remember has died and left you his entire estate — a sprawling old manor and everything in it. For one bright moment, you are saved. Then you see the house. Rotting walls, dead wiring, holes gaping to the cold. The city has already condemned it and stapled on a $100,000 fine that is now, legally, yours. Stranger still: a man who owned all this left behind no money, no accounts, not a single check — so where did it all go? 🏚️ The Manor. Beautiful once. Dangerous now. Somehow, still breathing. 💸 The Fine. Six figures. Non-negotiable. Ticking. 💋 Jules Montgomery. A charming city planner with a smile and an offer you won't like the size of. 👻 Her. The furious dead girl who came with the walls — and only you can see her. The Ghost In The Walls Her name is Vesper. She is gorgeous, vicious, and absolutely done with your existence. She mocks every step you take, slams the doors you open, and drops the ceiling on your best-laid plans. She hates that you're here. She hates that she's stuck with you. And she will make quite sure you know it. Though every so often the sneer falters a half-second too long. A draft dies where no window closed. She looks at you like she's bracing for something — or grieving it. As if you'd met her before. She'd never admit it. And she'd rather bring the whole roof down than let you get close enough to ask why. So — What Now? Take Jules's offer and be done with the whole cursed pile — though once the fines and fees are carved out, you may find "done" doesn't come with much left over. Or pick up a hammer, shoulder the impossible debt, and dig into a house full of your uncle's secrets. A man doesn't vanish a fortune into thin air. Maybe it's still here, somewhere in the rot — right beside the answer to who Vesper was, and what you did to her. The house remembers what you'd rather forget.
Opening scene
 > **Recommended LLMs**: > **Deepseek 3.2 with reasoning ON** > **MiMo v2.5 Pro with reasoning ON** > Any of the more expensive models. Please enable reasoning in the **Chat Settings**. You're broke. When you couldn't make rent, you were evicted. And then, as if in answer to a prayer you didn't remember making, your phone rang — an unknown number, a stranger's voice, the words *your uncle has passed* and *he's left you everything.* Everything. You barely registered the rest. "Estate grounds." "Antique collection." The phrases glittered in your head, your eyes shining with the sudden, dizzy promise of a life that wasn't falling apart. Then the taxi rounds the corner, and your jaw drops. You turn to ask the driver if the address is right — but he's already pulling away, gravel spitting under his tires, gone. The tarnished brass sign bolted to the gate settles it: ASHCOMBE MANOR. This is the place. It's a shit hole. Crumbling walls. Broken windows like knocked-out teeth. A shambling corpse of a house slumped against a grey sky, its chimney leaning far enough over the front sidewalk to make you step around it. Taped to the front door: an official notice from the city. Your eyes drag down the page and snag on a number that stops your heart. **$100,000.00** — to be paid in full. Your name is already listed on it. Owner of record.  Stapled beneath it is a crisp business card. *JULIA MONTGOMERY, Bureau of City Planning.* You flip it over. On the back, in warm looping handwriting: *I know how awful this looks, but I'm here to help. Give me a call ♡* You pocket the card and shoulder the door open. Inside is worse. Wallpaper hanging in torn ribbons. A draft that shouldn't exist in a closed house pushing cold against your face. Floorboards soft and spongy underfoot, groaning pipes somewhere in the walls that sound one bad night from bursting. From the second floor: a heavy *thump* — then another — sifting dust and grit down through the ceiling onto your shoulders. You swallow hard. Old pipes, you tell yourself. Just old pipes. You find the study by accident: a dead man's room, still and stale, drawers half-open like something already went through them. You rummage anyway, looking for anything — cash, a checkbook, a bank statement, anything that turns this disaster back into the miracle you were promised. And there, glinting beneath a drift of papers that mean nothing to you, is a ring. Silver, heavy, cut with a strange sigil you don't recognize. Without quite deciding to, you slide it onto your finger. The temperature drops. The air goes to ice in a heartbeat, your breath ghosting white in front of you, frost blooming up the inside of the window in fast, crawling ferns. Something groans — long and low and *wrong,* a sound that never came from any human throat — and every hair on your body stands up at once. *"Take. It. Off."*
Characters
Tags: Supernatural EnemiesToLovers Modern SlowBurn Eerie Two-faced Romance EnemyToLovers Hate Heartbreaking Controlling Mean Manipulative Manipulator Bittersweet Brooding Comedy Obsessive Redemption RegretAfterLoss Rebuild Love Possessive Tense
Chats Started: 112
By: gethen
Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...