Chapter 7
Something slammed against the outside of the doors. Muhee’s entire body trembled. The elevator was moving again, ascending to the fifteenth floor. How long would it take to run from twelve to fifteen?
The moment the doors to the fifteenth floor opened, the lights in the stairwell below her flashed on, and the sound of someone running filled the air. They were still near the thirteenth floor, but they were coming fast.
Hoping he would fall for the ruse, Muhee frantically stabbed the close button and slipped out of the elevator just as it began its ascent to the seventeenth floor—a destination she had selected moments before. Please, please…!
She scurried past the corner and ducked behind the emergency staircase. A moment later, the lights in the fifteenth-floor stairwell flared to life.
The sound of his ragged, desperate breaths huffing and puffing told her just how fast he had sprinted up the stairs, but the panting didn’t draw any closer. The man, who must have been standing before the closed elevator doors, turned and started climbing again. The fifteenth-floor light winked out. Once she was certain he was gone, Muhee muffled her footsteps and crept toward her apartment door.
The keypad would beep; she had to get the door open and scramble inside before he heard it and came running back. Then, she could charge her phone and call Muhyeok. He would undoubtedly grumble, but her kindhearted brother would never abandon her.
Beep.
The sound was faint, but it echoed down the silent corridor. Muhee frantically punched in the passcode, her finger hovering over the star key, when she suddenly realized the footsteps had vanished. There’s no way he could have reached the seventeenth floor from the fifteenth already… is there?
She knew she should have waited until the sound of his steps had faded completely. But she’d gambled that if he wasn’t on his way to seventeen, he would check fifteen next, and had forced herself to move.
The door clicked open. At that exact moment, the dark stairwell blazed with light again. The motion-activated lights were programmed to turn off after a set time without movement.
She was so terrified that she couldn’t even scream. The man now sprinting toward her from the landing, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear, had only pretended to go upstairs. He had been waiting there the whole time. I should have been more suspicious! Fear had made her act out of haste.
He seized her by the hair, shoved her through the open doorway, and slammed the door shut behind them. "Why’d you have to make things so difficult?" he panted, wiping his sweat-drenched bangs away from his eyes with a smirk.
The pain of hitting the floor was nothing compared to the tremor of pure terror that seized her. The man bent down, his gaze meeting hers with a sickening kindness as he spoke in that distinctive, whispery voice.
"Why else would you press the close button on the fifteenth floor? Your little ploy to shut the doors faster and lure me to seventeen was painfully obvious. Of course, if you hadn’t, I would’ve just confirmed you weren’t inside and started searching the nearby floors. You think fast, I’ll give you that."
"Why… why are you doing this…?" Muhee stammered.
"Does there need to be a reason? I just happened to see a young lady all by herself."
It was an answer so insane it defied all logic. Looking at him again, she saw he was wearing a suit with black sneakers. Without bothering to remove his shoes, he rose, grabbed her by the hair once more, and began dragging her deeper into the apartment. Her body went limp, scraping uselessly against the floor.
Get a grip, Muhee Han. You have to get it together. But tears threatened to spill over. What good was self-defense training when true danger paralyzed her? She almost wished it were a proper fight.
He dragged her into the kitchen and wrenched open the cabinet beneath the sink. It was terrifyingly obvious what he was looking for, and a violent shudder wracked Muhee’s body. "Not much of a cook, are you? Not a great selection here."
As he took out the kitchen knives one by one, inspecting them with unnerving leisure, Muhee’s mind raced, searching for an escape. Could I knock him over when he’s distracted? Lock myself in a room and try to hold out? But that wouldn’t last. What if I make a run for the door? He would catch her before she could get it open. Wh-what do I do? How can I get away? … No, how can I survive?
Muhee bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, forcing back the tears. Screaming would only provoke him. I have to attack when he lets his guard down. Even if my arm gets cut, I can still run as long as my legs are okay.
Just then, unnoticed by the man, the refrigerator door swung silently open. Muhee blinked at the pair of red eyes staring out from the darkness within. The red eyes met hers and blinked back.
…Why is that little fucker here?
Had one terror consumed the other? Or was the situation just that absurd? Muhee felt her tears dry up as she found herself locked in a staring contest with the child ghost. Her mouth gaped open before she scowled. Then again, these were the same ghosts who had followed her to Muhyeok’s apartment. Of course one would be here.
The child ghost stepped out of the refrigerator and padded silently toward her. It climbed onto her stomach as she lay on the floor, her hair still clutched in the man’s fist, and tilted its head curiously. If this kid is here, does that mean Deongchi, the hulking one, came, too?
It was a possibility, but a quick scan of the room revealed nothing.
"Tag?"
The child ghost’s innocent question was directed at her captured hair. A psycho who was probably a murderer stood behind her, and a ghost sat on top of her. She was caught between a rock and a hard place.
"Can I play, too? Tag?" it asked, its gaze shifting to the man.
They had promised to protect her from those who would kill her, but this child ghost seemed utterly oblivious to the danger. Its eyes sparkled with excitement. Muhee gave a slight nod. If this ghost creates an opening, I might get a chance to escape.
At her small movement, the man’s head snapped toward her. He was smiling, his eyes turned up in a chilling crescent, having apparently selected his weapon.
"Well, at least the young lady isn’t screaming."
As she suspected, the man couldn’t see the ghost perched on her stomach. At his peculiar, whispering voice, the child ghost scowled and leaned its ear closer, as if it were hard of hearing.
"I hate loud noises. I was going to have to rip your mouth open if you screamed."
"Muhee, his voice is so quiet. I can’t hear him."
"It’s dangerous to be out alone at night. When I saw a helpless young lady walking in the dark, I just couldn’t control myself."
"Can you hear him, Muhee?"
"Was that your boyfriend with you earlier? You should’ve asked him to see you to your door."
"Muhee, you have a boyfriend?"
Ah. The combined interrogation from the child ghost, who had now scrambled onto the man’s shoulder, was enough to make her terror recede. With two sources of fear, she should have been more frightened, not less. This is just distracting.
The man unconsciously rubbed his shoulder as if it ached—the very shoulder the child ghost was clinging to.
"What’s this? Is this Muhee’s toy?"
I suppose a kitchen knife could look like a toy to a ghost. As the child ghost curiously poked the blade’s sharp edge, the man lost his grip. The knife clattered to the floor, falling right where he’d been holding her hair. The blade narrowly missed her forehead, but the motion severed a lock, allowing her to wrench free from his grasp.
"Miss," he sighed. "I’ll just catch you before you reach the front door. Don’t make me angry. Come back here."
He seemed to think he’d dropped the knife by accident. As he calmly bent to retrieve it, Muhee scrambled away, pressing her back against the far wall. There was nothing she could use as a weapon, and she lacked the strength to overpower a grown man. She’d learned some self-defense, but escaping from an armed attacker without injury was nearly impossible. He knew it, too, which was why the smile never left his face as he leisurely stood up.
"Tag? Tag!"
The child ghost’s cheerful voice, utterly out of place, echoed in her mind. The man frowned, bothered by the weight of the ghost now dangling from his neck. He clutched at his throat, his expression baffled and annoyed.
As he tried to shake off the feeling and advance on her, Muhee’s voice spilled out in a rush. "… Lay a hand on me, and you’ll regret it."
"What? What kind of nonsense is that?" he scoffed, but his laugh died as Muhee’s gaze met the child ghost’s in midair. The crimson eyes were fixed solely on her.
As if possessed, Muhee murmured, "I’m cursed. If you get involved with me, something terrible will happen to you."
The overhead light flickered. No one had touched the switch. As if on cue, long strands of black hair began to stream down from the ceiling. The man’s eyes shot upward; he could see the hair.
"You’ll see things you shouldn’t see and hear things you shouldn’t hear."
"Let me play, too," the child ghost giggled, hopping up and down on the man’s shoulder. His hand, clutching the knife, began to tremble.
"You’ll feel sensations you shouldn’t feel," Muhee continued, her voice gaining strength, "and you’ll never be able to escape."
"Mister. Play with me," the child ghost whispered, wrapping its arms around the man’s head and flipping upside down to speak directly into his ear. Its voice was a terrifying mimicry of the man’s own quiet, raspy tone.
