Do-yoon was still staring at his phone screen when his father said, “Turn it off.” It wasn’t a question.
Do-yoon looked up. Jung-woo had already risen from his chair. His face remained calm, but something in his eyes had changed. Something very small. If Do-yoon hadn’t been used to noticing changes that tiny in people, he might not have noticed it. The problem was, Do-yoon had grown up with this man. He knew exactly what his father looked like when he was angry. When he was disappointed. When he was lying. And, most rarely of all— when he was afraid.
His father looked afraid now. “Why?” “Turn off your phone.” “Why?” “Do-yoon.” “Appa.”
They stared at each other. Do-yoon finally turned off the screen. “Now explain.”
Jung-woo didn’t answer right away. He picked up his glass of water, took a small sip, then set it back on the table. “Don’t go to that apartment again.” Do-yoon frowned. “The one from last night?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because that place isn’t safe.”
Do-yoon let out a short laugh. “Appa, I literally work in unsafe places.” “I’m serious.” “So am I.”
Jung-woo stared at him for a long moment. Then he said, “That woman wasn’t the only one there.”
Do-yoon’s smile vanished. He leaned back in his chair. “What do you mean?”
His father didn’t answer. “Appa.” “Forget it.” “I can’t.” “You can.” “I’m a shaman.”
Jung-woo sighed. “That’s exactly the problem.”
The words fell between them. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But enough to make Do-yoon stop joking.
Jung-woo rarely mentioned his spiritual work directly. Usually, he called it something else. That. Your work. Things like that. As if saying its name would make something real. When in fact, it had been real since Do-yoon was nine years old.
“Appa knows something,” Do-yoon said. “I don’t know anything.” “Liar.” “Don’t talk to your father like that.” “If my father wasn’t lying, I wouldn’t say it.”
Jung-woo looked at him. Do-yoon waited. Finally, his father stood. “I have to go.” “Of course.”
Jung-woo took his jacket from the back of the chair. “Do-yoon.” “Hmm?” “Don’t go live tonight.”
Do-yoon fell silent. His father walked toward the door. Before leaving, he paused. “And if someone calls your name from outside the apartment…”
He turned around. “Don’t answer.”
The door closed. Do-yoon sat alone. For a few seconds. Then he said to the empty dining room, “Great.”
He picked up his phone. Opened KakaoTalk. There were twenty-three messages from Jae-hyun. Most of them weren’t important. Most of them also weren’t fit to read in front of a parent.
The last messages read: JAE-HYUN: BRO JAE-HYUN: tonight? JAE-HYUN: dont tell me u suddenly became responsible JAE-HYUN: thats disgusting
Do-yoon typed. DO-YOON: what time?
The reply appeared instantly. JAE-HYUN: 10 JAE-HYUN: hongdae JAE-HYUN: dress good
Do-yoon stared at the messages. Then he looked at the door his father had just walked through. Then he sighed.
He had plenty of problems. But he wasn’t going to let spiritual problems ruin his plans for the night. There were limits.
At 9:48 p.m., Do-yoon stood in front of the mirror. His bedroom was proof that someone could have excellent taste and absolutely terrible life-management skills at the same time. The interior was minimalist. White sheets. Dark wood wardrobe. A neatly arranged shoe rack. Perfume bottles lined up by size. There was enough skincare on the desk to open a small clinic. In the corner, clothes were piled on a chair.
Do-yoon looked at himself. Black T-shirt. Leather jacket. Black pants. Watch. Earring. His hair was styled casually, which had of course taken twenty minutes.
He picked up his phone. Opened the front-facing camera. “Perfect.”
Then a voice said, “No.”
Do-yoon froze. He slowly turned around. There was no one there. “Who is that?”
There was no answer. Do-yoon narrowed his eyes. Then he saw something in the mirror. Behind him.
A woman was standing there. Her hair was long. Her face was pale. She was wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing on the livestream that afternoon.
Do-yoon stared at her through the mirror’s reflection. The woman smiled. “Are you going out?”
Do-yoon closed his eyes. Opened them again. The woman was still there.
“I told you,” he said softly. “I’m not a psychologist.” “I know.” “Good.” “I just want to come with you.”
Do-yoon stared at her. “Where?” “To a party.”
Silence.
Do-yoon turned around directly. The woman was gone. He looked back at the mirror. There was no one there.
Do-yoon sighed. “I’m getting tired.”
His phone buzzed. JAE-HYUN: WHERE ARE YOU
Do-yoon typed while grabbing his jacket. DO-YOON: coming
He paused for a moment. Then added: DO-YOON: if i die tonight, tell everyone it was fashion-related
The reply: JAE-HYUN: dramatic JAE-HYUN: hurry
Do-yoon slipped his phone into his pocket. He walked out of the bedroom. Then stopped.
Something felt strange. Not because of the spirit from earlier. Not because of what his father had said, either.
It was because the sound of a TikTok video playing came from the living room. Quietly. Very quietly.
Do-yoon turned. The TV was off. There was no one there.
The sound stopped. Then a woman’s voice whispered, “Do-yoon.”
He closed his eyes. One second. Two seconds. Then he opened the apartment door. “I didn’t hear anything.”
He stepped outside. The door closed behind him.
Inside the apartment, the dead television turned on by itself. The screen displayed a video. The same video.
The apartment in Mapo. The dead woman. And behind her— there was someone else.
A tall figure stood in the doorway of the bedroom. Its face couldn’t be seen. But before the video stopped, the figure slowly raised its head. Facing the camera.
Then the screen went dark again.
Hongdae was packed with people that night. Do-yoon liked places like this. Not because he liked crowds. He actually didn’t. He simply liked the fact that among thousands of people, no one paid particular attention to any one person. It made it easier to breathe.
Neon lights reflected off the sidewalk. Music spilled from the club doors. People walked by laughing, smoking, making phone calls, kissing, or doing some combination of all three.
Jae-hyun was waiting in front of the club. The moment he saw Do-yoon, he raised a hand. “Finally.” “I’m twelve minutes late.” “Twenty.” “Twelve.” “I checked the time.” “Your watch is wrong.” “An iPhone?” “Yeah.”
Jae-hyun laughed. “You really can’t be beaten.” “Thank you.” “That wasn’t a compliment.” “I’ll take it anyway.”
They went inside. The music slammed into their bodies. Do-yoon smiled. For the first time that day, his shoulders felt a little lighter.
Jae-hyun leaned closer. “Bro.” “Hmm?” “What’s wrong with you?” “What do you mean?” “You’ve been spacing out this whole time.”
Do-yoon shook his head. “Didn’t get enough sleep.” “Work?” “Yeah.”
Jae-hyun grinned. “Your shaman gig?”
Do-yoon looked at him. “Keep your voice down.” “Why?” “Because I’m trying to have a normal life.”
Jae-hyun laughed. “You?” “Yeah.” “Normal?” “Yeah.” “Do-yoon.” “What?” “You just walked into a club with a neck tattoo and a watch that costs as much as a used car.”
Do-yoon looked at his watch. “Yeah.” “That’s not normal.”
Do-yoon shrugged. “Normal is relative.”
They laughed. The music grew louder. The lights spun.
Do-yoon finally let himself enjoy the night. At least until he saw someone standing at the edge of the dance floor.
A woman. Not moving. Not dancing. Not talking. Just staring at him.
Do-yoon stopped. Jae-hyun followed his gaze. “What?”
Do-yoon didn’t answer. The woman raised her hand. Pointed at him. Then her lips moved.
No sound could be heard over the music. But Do-yoon could read her words.
Don’t trust your father.
Do-yoon’s expression changed instantly. And for the first time that night— the music sounded too loud.