description: karina just wanted to kill winter, but somehow, winter always managed to dumb her way out

- fluff

There are a lot of things that Winter does not believe in—things that she thinks are simply… not real and are too fictitious to be true.

Like ghosts, vampires, werewolves, witches, cockroaches, and her job. God, especially her job.

Her best friend, Ningning, who also happens to be her “manager”, claims that they work for a very secretive organization (that is most likely to be nonexistent) and had its oh-so-illustrious founding in Switzerland during the 60s. 

Now, you must be wondering — ‘if you hate it so much, then why don't you quit?’

Alright, first of all, Winter does not hate it. She finds it strange, yes, but if anything, she's just amused. A weird sketchy organization? Sure! Count her in! 

She has no idea how her best friend even found that entire organization, but during the time that they have been working together, Winter has learnt to never question the girl's own source of entertainment ever again. Ever.

She's a Drivel Investigator.

Or in Layman's terms; a nonsense snooper. 

She snoops nonsense. Like literal nonsense.

This is how it goes. Her boss (which is Giselle, who's also her best friend, by the way), would email her once a week with information about yet another enigmatic case that made no absolute sense and give her a month to solve it.

Spoiler alert: she never solved .

Because again, it's nonsense. There's nothing in there. It's already expected to the point where Giselle doesn't even get disappointed anymore. She just sighs, and calls it a day.

Either way, Winter gets paid.

“An abandoned house.”

“A haunted house. It's different.” Ningning corrects, her eyes squinting as she stares at the house in amusement.

Winter chuckles and turns to her best friend-slash-manager. “It's an old abandoned house, Ning.”

“Therefore, haunted.” She receives nothing but a nonchalant shrug from the girl. 

“No.” 

Because that's ridiculous. 

“What? Are you scared?” Of course, Ningning would taunt her. It's like clockwork at this point.

Winter's brows furrow, scoffing as she waves her hand off to feign confidence. “Psh, me? No? Ghosts are not even real.”

“Then why are you stalling?” Ningning faced her with her arms crossed, still wearing that same smug grin she sports whenever she feels like annoying the hell out of Winter.

It works every time.

“I'm not stalling. I'm observing.”

“Observing what, exactly?”

“The abandoned house.”

“The haunted house.”

“Again, not haunted. Just old.”

Ningning pops her lips, tilting her head as she motions for Winter to start walking. “Sure. Go in.”

“Now?”

“I mean, yeah? What else are you waiting for?”

“N-nothing?” Winter frowns. 

Then a knowing look appears on Ningnin's face that would only soon egg Winter on. “Unless… you're actually scared?”

“I'm not.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Her best friend teasingly wiggles her eyebrows, her gaze dancing between Winter and the house in front of them. 

“It's just an abandoned house.”

“It's just an abandoned house.” 

Famous last words.

Well, actually—not that famous, but you get the point.

Nonchalance is what brings danger to people.

Winter exhales (not out of nervousness), her hand hesitating to grip on the old dusty fixtures around the house. Each step she takes always results in something eerie—and the sporadic creaking sound coming from the wooden floor is the only thing withstanding the silence. 

She can't turn back now, can she?

She's gone too far.

She cranes her neck to look at where she came from, see how well she did, and god damn it, she's still in the foyer.

Four steps away from the front door.

You're doing so well, Winter. She whispers to herself.

You're doing so well.

You're doing so well—oh my God, is that blood?!

Winter freezes.

“What the hell,” she almost whimpers. 

There's blood painted all over the floor, trailing to what seems like a room full of -No's (as Winter would like to call it). It appears as though whomever did this purposely used a human body as their paint brush.

Yeah, this. I'm out. Winter immediately turns around and briskly walks her way out.

But before she could even twist the door knob, an unfamiliar deep (definitely not y at all) voice suddenly emerges from behind her, making her spin her back around.

“Leaving so soon?”

She stops. What… 

That is a woman.

Not herself, obviously.

A beguiling hot woman. 

Who probably owns this supposed abandoned house.

“H-hi…” If her voice cracks, it's only because she hasn't drank enough water for the day.

It's definitely not because of this hot, attractive woman who is looking directly at her like she wants to devour her alive.

Which, incidentally, is not at all probable in light of the woman's home and the evident bloodbath on the floor. If anything, she's just going to use Winter as one of her paint brushes.

Or not.

See, Winter believes in this famous philosophy by—well, herself. 

Which is; 

Pretty women can do no wrong.

They just… can't.

And this woman in front of her whose home seemed like it housed Satan himself? She's pretty.

So as expected, Winter's shoulder relaxes as the woman approaches her.

“Hm,” the woman starts, her face dangerously close to Winter. “and who might you be?” she asks, her voice low and raspy.

“I'm W-Winter… nice to meet you,”

Smooth.

The woman raises an eyebrow, her piercing gaze brazenly scanning Winter's body from top to bottom.

“Katarina.” says the woman as soon as she leaned back. “That is my name. You may refer to me as Karina.”

“Oh.” Winter says so eloquently.

“Now,” Karina tilts her head,