Chapter 10

　　In the dream, Heebeom Kang was a murderer. He kept killing people. First, a large man. The second victim was someone else; she hadn’t seen their face clearly. But she was certain the killer was Heebeom, and that their eyes had met. Meeting a murderer was her future? She hadn’t seen what happened next. When they said they would protect her, did they mean they would save her from being killed by Heebeom?

　　"I don’t understand. It’s just a dream. And even if it were true, why would you two, who have nothing to do with me, protect me?"

　　"Because we are connected."

　　So what’s the connection? Deongchi fell silent, either unwilling or unable to elaborate. Judging by the child ghost’s blank look, he didn’t know either. Muhee rested her chin in her hand. "Fine, forget that. Even if you say you’ll protect me, I have no intention of believing you, and I don’t want you to. Whether I die at that killer’s hands in the future or not, don’t interfere."

　　"Muhee can’t die!"

　　"Be quiet when the adults are talking."

　　"Hmph."

　　The child ghost slid off the coffee table with a sullen look and toddled toward the refrigerator. She should call him the refrigerator ghost, not the child ghost. Why was he so obsessed with it?

　　Deongchi watched Muhee watching the ghost, then slowly spoke.

　　"Why?"

　　"What do you mean, why?"

　　"Why can we not interfere?"

　　"Because I don’t want you to. Mind your own business. And never show yourselves to me again."

　　"Even if we leave, other ghosts will continue to target you."

　　He must have meant the female ghost. So she was someone who couldn’t be reasoned with. A malicious spirit bent on taking her life, who had so far been thwarted by Deongchi’s interference. But what if he left? Muhee couldn’t answer, her lips pressed into a thin line.

　　"From what I see, Mu wants to live."

　　At that, she scowled and shot out a hand. She’d touched him before, so she figured it would work. Her fingers closed around the collar of his shirt. He simply stared back, his face blank. She fought down the urge to scream—it wouldn’t solve anything.

　　"Don’t you dare talk like you know me when you know nothing."

　　"I know Mu."

　　"Shut up."

　　"Even if Mu does not want it, I will protect you. This time."

　　This time? He just kept talking, offering no real explanations. It was like talking to a brick wall. She irritably released his collar and stood up.

　　"Fine, do what you want! But stay out of my sight. Both of you."

　　"Okay."

　　"If you’re going to protect me, do it so I don’t even notice! I’m sick and tired of ghosts!"

　　Deongchi nodded at her rapid-fire tirade. And then, he replied.

　　"Hmph."

　　Ah, fuck. Muhee felt she was more likely to die of hypertension than from any ghost-related stress.

* * *

　　"So, you haven’t seen them since?"

　　Muhee watched in the mirror as her mangled hair was expertly reshaped. The person skillfully wielding the scissors was her friend, Yeondo Park. At least she was getting her hair cut for free, thanks to her hairdresser friend, she thought idly, nodding. When she’d recounted the events of the previous night, Yeondo’s face had lit up with excitement.

　　"Still, it’s a relief they’re well-behaved ghosts this time!"

　　"Lower your voice."

　　"What’s the big deal? There are no other customers anyway."

　　The salon owner, Yeondo’s mother, had stepped out, and the place was indeed empty. Still, Yeondo spoke so casually of things that would make anyone else question her sanity. With her long, straight hair and a lovely smile, Yeondo was beautiful, even to another woman. Far more so than the gloomy face with dark circles staring back from the mirror.

　　"You’re probably the only person who would believe a story like this," Muhee said.

　　"I believe it because it’s your story, Muhee. It’s a shame about your hair, though. You were growing it out so nicely."

　　Her hair, now neatly trimmed to just above her shoulders, was being styled with a blow-dryer. The awkward, in-between length—not quite short, not quite long—felt like a reflection of her life. Yeondo’s skill, however, made it look presentable.

　　"Still, I’m glad you weren’t hurt. Don’t go around by yourself from now on. Or at least go with Muhyeok."

　　"I will."

　　"Don’t just brush it off like I’m nagging! Okay? Or maybe that handsome ghost of yours will protect you from the shadows?"

　　"…Where did the ‘handsome’ part come from?"

　　At Muhee’s dumbfounded question, Yeondo blinked with wide-eyed innocence. "Well, you never comment on anyone’s looks, so for you to say he had a ‘decent face’ must be code for ‘handsome.’"

　　"I meant he looked human, for a ghost."

　　"Oh, so you mean he’s as extraordinarily handsome as a living person!" Yeondo gushed.

　　Muhee decided to drop it. Her hair finished, she stood from the chair and thanked her friend. Yeondo waved it off with a smile and gestured toward a table in the corner. She gave the coffee Muhee had brought a little shake.

　　"You bought coffee, so it’s the least I can do."

　　"A haircut costs more than a coffee."

　　"It’s fine, it’s fine," Yeondo insisted. "I was just tidying it up. Still, it’s a bit of a shame. You’re so pretty, Muhee, you’d look great with a more glamorous style."

　　"You’re probably the only person on earth who thinks I’m pretty," Muhee deadpanned.

　　"What are you talking about?" Yeondo shot back. "You had guys lining up for you! So what if you’re a dark-circle beauty from being perpetually exhausted? You’re still gorgeous, you know?"

　　A soft laugh escaped Muhee at her friend’s earnest flattery. Yeondo huffed, insisting it was true. A dark-circle beauty? What the hell is that? Muhee chuckled again.

　　"Ugh, you and that pretty smile. You’re going to charm someone again," Yeondo sighed. "At this rate, you’ll end up enchanting a ghost."

　　"That’s a horrible thought."

　　"Why? You said he told you he likes you. What if… what if a guy who had a crush on you died and became a ghost just to stay by your side and protect you?"

　　Yeondo’s hobbies were a testament to her romantic soul: romantic novels, romantic movies, and anything in between. Medical, legal, or thriller—as long as it had an underlying love story, she was hooked. It seemed she was determined to cast Muhee’s predicament in the same light. It was creative bullshit, but Muhee couldn’t bring herself to be so blunt with her best friend. She sipped her coffee instead. "Yeah, that’s definitely not it."

　　"Muhee, you have no sense of romance!"

　　"You’re the weird one for trying to find romance with a ghost."

　　"Well, since it’s already happened, isn’t that better than being terrified all the time?" Yeondo pressed. "More importantly, what’s truly unsettling is that he knew the contents of your dream. You said you met the murderer from your dream, too, right?"

　　Muhee still hadn’t told Yeondo that the murderer from her dream was Muhyeok’s friend. Her friend would have immediately demanded to meet him, so Muhee had simply said they’d run into each other by chance. Musing over her coffee, she finally answered, "Yeah. I don’t know if I’ll see him again. And I have no intention of believing a single word a ghost says."

　　"That’s true, especially after what happened in the past. Still, it wasn’t just any dream, so it wouldn’t hurt to be careful. You should try to avoid that situation if you can. Where did the dream take place?"

　　The place? It wasn’t anywhere she recognized. Frowning in concentration, Muhee recalled the murder scene, faintly illuminated by the light of an outdoor restroom. It was an image that could never be pleasant. "I think it was a park. Near a public restroom, maybe? But it was somewhere I’ve never been."

　　"Really? Well, just in case, stay away from parks for a while! Now, repeat after me, little Muhee!"

　　"The coffee is delicious, ma’am," Muhee replied, playing along.

　　"A child drinking an Americano!" Yeondo shrieked dramatically. Watching her over-the-top performance, Muhee couldn’t help but laugh. She always drew strength from Yeondo’s bright energy, and today was no different.

　　Seeing Muhee smile, Yeondo smiled back and took her hand. The warmth of her friend’s touch made Muhee meet her gaze.

　　"Don’t be so anxious," Yeondo said softly. "You used to have those dreams about Muhyeok dying all the time, but he’s been perfectly fine."

　　That was true. In her last year of high school, she’d been tormented by recurring dreams of Muhyeok’s death. She remembered the panic, the desperation. When she’d warned him to be careful, he had just scoffed. Back then, only her father had taken her seriously. A ghost had appeared in those dreams, too—an ambiguous entity, its gender and identity in constant flux as it stalked her.

　　"Yeah, you’re right," Muhee said, forcing a lighter tone. "They say dreams are the opposite of reality, so Muhyeok will probably live an annoyingly long life."

　　"There you go! I love that positive attitude!" Yeondo cheered, clapping her hands.

　　Muhee took another sip of coffee just as the salon door chimed.

　　"Welcome!" Yeondo called out.

　　A customer. Muhee figured she should leave so Yeondo could work. But then Yeondo’s gaze shifted to a point just behind her, and Muhee realized someone had quietly approached.

　　"You’re Muhee, right?" a voice asked.

　　Why is he here?

　　Shocked, Muhee spun around, her face a blank mask. Unaware of the chilling implications, Yeondo just tilted her head. "Muhee, who’s this? A friend of yours?"

　　The question was innocent. Yeondo knew everyone in Muhee’s small social circle, so a stranger was an anomaly. Muhee’s lips parted, and she hesitated before answering.

　　"…He’s Muhyeok’s friend."

　　She couldn’t bring herself to say what she was really thinking: He’s the murderer from my dream.