Chapter 8

　　"Aaargh, fuck! What the hell is this!" His shout shattered the apartment’s silence. He swung the knife wildly, but the blade passed right through the ghost. A physical attack was useless against a soul.

　　Finding his reaction amusing, the hair descending from the ceiling changed course, snaking toward the man. His face turned a deathly pale as the eerie locks wrapped around his neck and wrists.

　　Staring blankly at the farcical scene, Muhee began to inch her way toward the front door. The man, lost in his own hell, didn’t seem to notice. Please, don’t look this way. But her desperate pleas, as always, went unanswered. For a split second, their eyes met.

　　"Miss, what did you do to me? Huh? Did you really think you could get away with a creepy prank like this?"

　　He slashed at the hair with his knife and strode toward her, the child ghost still perched on his shoulder. Muhee frantically fumbled for the door’s open button, but he grabbed the back of her head and slammed it against the door.

　　Her vision blurred, then dissolved into darkness. Pressed against the door, she could barely force one eye open. The man pinned her limbs, his mind lost to a furious rage. His dark eyes now burned with pure, murderous intent. "You’re not going to die a quiet death."

　　I don’t want to hear it. The voice whispering in her ear was horrifying. As he started dragging her toward one of the rooms, she squeezed her eyes shut and flailed her arm toward the front door. Save me. A plea no one could hear, a plea no one wanted to hear. There was no one to take her hand.

　　Just as her arm began to fall, a large hand closed around hers.

　　"Mu."

　　A form materialized from the point of contact, resolving into a familiar, massive build. It was Deongchi, the big, hulking ghost. Muhee blinked. His face, which she had never seen before, remained shrouded in shadow, but the grip on her hand was so solid, so real, it felt like that of a living person.

　　"Mu… I… pro-tect."

　　Deongchi still had a stutter while speaking. When Muhee didn’t yield easily, the attacker looked back in irritation, and she heard him suck in a sharp breath.

　　"It’s… o-kay."

　　What’s okay? The ghost cupped the back of her head, pulling her into its embrace. The attacker’s hands fell away, limp and useless.

　　"Ah, ahh…!" A groan of terror and bewildered panic escaped the man’s lips. He stumbled backward and collapsed onto the floor. The hand on her head pressed down gently, preventing her from looking up. The man, who had recovered so quickly after seeing the child ghost, was now completely lost in a panic. What in the world does Deongchi’s face look like?

　　"Get… out. This… is… Mu’s… house."

　　The man, who had dropped his knife, was dragged across the floor toward the entrance as if by an invisible force. There was nothing there, yet his legs were lifted high off the ground. He stared at the empty space before him, his face a mask of pure horror.

　　"S-save me! Please!!"

　　The child ghost sat on the man’s stomach, beaming with excitement. Its bright, misplaced joy made the scene all the more terrifying. What on earth is the man seeing…?

　　The door lock clicked open on its own, and the man’s body was flung outside. From the hallway came the sound of muffled groans, as if his mouth were covered, and the sickening scrape of him being dragged away. For a fleeting moment, she thought she met someone’s eyes through the crack in the door, but it must have been her imagination.

　　Soon, the door swung shut, and silence descended upon the apartment once more. A hand began to pat her back slowly, rhythmically. Muhee lifted her head.

　　"Mu, sleepy?"

　　Had it mistaken her stunned silence for drowsiness? Deongchi tilted his head as he asked. The face that had been wreathed in shadow was slowly coming into view. His speech, once broken into single syllables, now sounded more natural, as if her direct acknowledgment of it had somehow influenced it.

　　"You."

　　The revealed face was merely pale, yet it looked so human that her mind swam. Dark eyes peered out from under slightly long bangs. If she didn’t know he was a ghost, she would have thought him handsome enough to make any woman blush. The hand patting her back felt surprisingly gentle, adding to her profound confusion.

　　"Why are you trying to protect me?"

　　It was a question she also wanted to ask the child ghost, who had happily followed the man out. But with only Deongchi here, he was the only one she could ask. He looked down at her, unblinking. She couldn’t even hear him breathe. Of course not. He was a ghost. Dwelling on that fact felt like a sharp jab from her subconscious, telling her to snap out of it. Don’t let your guard down. Never let your guard down. The warning screamed from deep inside her.

　　"I…"

　　His pronunciation was much clearer now. The words he once spat out in clipped syllables had become almost fluid. Why? I had a similar experience with the child ghost. Is it because of prolonged exposure? The length of our contact? Or is it because I’m not running away, because I’m properly acknowledging them?

　　"…like…"

　　Muhee, who had steeled herself to doubt whatever he said, gaped at the unexpected word.

　　"…Muhee."

　　Having delivered his confession with a blank face, Deongchi tilted his head again.

　　"I like Mu. She’s pitiful."

　　Are "like" and "pitiful" supposed to go together? Baffled by this strange and incomprehensible confession, Muhee pulled away from his embrace. He made no move to hold her back, simply allowing her to move as she wished. For a fleeting moment, her body felt a pang of loss for the hand that had patted her back and gently cupped her head, but she fiercely denied it.

　　"I like you. From now on, I will protect you."

　　From now on?

　　His way of speaking was still bizarre. As if sensing her confusion, he kindly repeated his confession—a chilling declaration that offered no comfort at all.

　　Muhee turned away and plugged her phone into the charger in the living room. As she switched it on and sank to the floor, Deongchi approached. The long-haired ghost from the ceiling was nowhere to be seen. Come to think of it, whenever Deongchi appeared, the other ghosts tended to vanish.

　　"Is Mu hard of hearing?"

　　Was he asking if she was deaf? Though his speech was more natural, his sentences were still hopelessly awkward.

　　"Does Mu like me?"

　　His asking in that awkward way somehow made it even more irritating. Muhee looked at him again. He had bent down to her level, a surprisingly delicate posture for his massive frame.

　　Staring up at the ghost, whose size was a stark contrast to her own petite build, she finally spoke. "Why would I like you?"

　　"I like Mu."

　　"So what?"

　　"I protect Mu."

　　"You’re the most…"

　　She was about to say dangerous, but the memory of him protecting her just moments ago made her stop, a frown creasing her brow. She irritably snapped her gaze away. Why am I even talking to something that isn’t human? She didn’t know his motives, but she was sure they weren’t good. After losing her father by thoughtlessly trusting a ghost, she had vowed never to trust anyone again, living or dead.

　　At her resolute silence, he stood blankly for a moment before his form flickered and vanished. The dark living room lights switched on.

　　The gesture felt so considerate, as if to ensure she wouldn’t be afraid now that she was alone, that she irritably ran a hand through her jaggedly cut hair. But her hand was still trembling. Muhee wrapped her arms around herself, her shoulders hunched, and took a slow, deep breath. It’s okay.

　　In the middle of the living room, her slender frame, with nowhere to lean and no one to rely on, stood alone.

* * *

　　Save me, save me. In the dark, empty hallway, the man was being dragged by an unseen force, his pleas muffled as if his mouth were gagged. From the shadows, someone watched in silence.

　　"Interesting."

　　Heebeom Kang, hidden on the stairwell, stroked the corner of his mouth, fighting back a smile. The man, now forcibly shoved into the elevator, was sent descending to the first floor. Heebeom’s gaze flickered between Muhee’s front door and the elevator. The man had been suspicious from the start, furtively glancing at Heebeom as he stood alone in front of the building before trailing after Muhee. Heebeom had followed out of concern, never expecting to witness something like this.

　　Strange. He definitely hadn’t heard a scream. He didn’t have her number to call, and he’d been debating whether to just ring the doorbell. But as if mocking his hesitation, the man had been dragged out in that bizarre fashion before he could act. The unexpected turn of events fascinated him.

　　Humming a little tune, he started down the stairs, his steps light. He was curious to see how far the man would be dragged, and he didn’t want to risk Muhee seeing him if she came out to check.

　　How can I get closer to her?

　　Muhee had no idea, but Heebeom already knew who she was. He knew she was Muhyeok’s sister, and he knew she could see ghosts. In the past, he’d desperately wanted to befriend her but never found the opportunity. To think they would reunite like this. He tilted his head for a moment, a faint smile playing on his lips. I figured if I stayed close to Muhyeok, we’d meet eventually.

　　Heebeom, who had been hoping for a natural encounter, was now quite satisfied with the role his friend had played. He recalled his recent, bizarre dream and brushed his bangs from his forehead, briefly revealing the scar above his eyebrow.

　　"Only strange things are drawn to her."

　　That, he knew, included himself.