By Ji-eun
Before I was the owner of a crazy cafe full of spirits, I was Ji-eun, the chemistry student. Three years at Seoul National University. GPA above 4.0. Full scholarship. My dream? To create medicines that cured mental illness based on natural compounds. I believed everything could be explained: molecules, reactions, equations. Until the day my grandmother called me, the day before my thesis defense, and said:
"The world doesn't need more medicine, Ji-eun. It needs someone who sees what others don't."
She died a week later.
And I dropped everything.
Now, sitting at the counter of the Lost Hunters' Café, with a lukewarm cup of coffee in my hand and my grandmother's diary open to the "Spirit Classification by Corruption Level" page, I wonder: Did I trade one madness for another?
The TV is on in the corner of the cafe.
It's one of those sensationalist investigative shows: "Seoul Mysteries." Journalist Kim Soo-jin, with her red blazer and sharp gaze, is at the construction site of the new Gangnam subway.
"Another worker found dead this morning," she says, as the camera pans to a body covered in a sheet. "Officially, it was an accident. But inside sources reveal the victim didn't die from a fall. She was found with her hands frozen, as if she'd held something extremely cold... and her eyes completely white."
The TV audience murmurs.
The cafe patrons do too.
"This is gwisin's work," says Min-jae, biting into a gingerbread bun. He's wearing the spirit tracking headset—an app he created based on shamanic records. "Level 2, maybe 3. Residual energy, but growing."
"They're spreading," Suah mutters, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Before, they only appeared near trauma sites. Now... they're heading downtown."
I flip through my grandmother's diary.
The page is marked with a red ribbon.
Gwisin's Classification
Level 1: Mild apparition. Whispers, moving objects.
Level 2: Mild possession. Affects emotions, causes insomnia.
Level 3: Active possession. Causes accidents, manipulates victims.
Level 4: Corrupted. Drains life energy. Grows with each death.
Level 5: Ancient. Has killed over seven. Can manifest physically.
"The more suffering they cause, the stronger they become. Don't underestimate them."
"The one in Gangnam... it might be level 3," I say.
"Or it's already 4," Min-jae corrects. "The pattern is the same: all the dead had stories of betrayal. One was abandoned by his wife. Another lost his job because of a colleague. Suffering is the food."
SuaH looks at me.
"Are you going?"
"Someone has to go."
"You can't go alone."
"I'm not alone," I say, grabbing my backpack. "I have the diary. And my tea."
The construction site is a maze of concrete, scaffolding, and idle machinery.
It's raining.
The smell of wet earth mingles with oil and rust.
And in the air...
spiritual chill.
I feel it as soon as I enter.
As if time has slowed down.
As if the world is holding its breath.
"Two," I whisper, looking through my phone's display—an app modified by Min-jae that displays energy fields.
Two shadows move between the beams.
Small. Fragile. Level 2.
Easy.
I quickly prepare my tea: brine infusion + spirit willow leaf (calming, but weakens possessions). I pour it into a spray bottle—my portable weapon.
One of the gwisin appears: a man in dirty overalls, white eyes, dragging an invisible chain.
"You don't belong here," he says, his voice like a child's.
"You don't belong here either," I reply.
And spirit.
The liquid shimmers in the air.
He screams—a high-pitched, broken sound—and dissolves like smoke.
The second comes from behind.
But I'm ready.
Another spray.
Another dissolution.
I take a deep breath.
Easy.
Like solving a simple equation.
"Maybe I'm getting better," I say aloud.
And then…
The ground shakes.
The air turns icy.
The sound of rain fades.
And in the middle of the construction site, between two scaffoldings, a man in an orange jumpsuit appears.
He doesn't walk.
He glides.
His eyes aren't white.
They're black with red veins, like cracks in a volcano.
His shadow is three times bigger than he is.
And when he opens his mouth, the sound that comes out is like ten voices screaming at once.
"Level 5," I whisper, looking at the journal in my hand.
"Elder. You've killed over 7."
He laughs.
"Is the little hunter coming to play with the adults?"
Before I can react, he attacks me.
Not hard.
Painfully.
A wave of dark energy hits me in the chest.
I fall to my knees.
My tea falls to the floor, spilling like ordinary water.
"You think tea will stop me?" he growls.
"I turned seven men to dust. Three women. One shaman.
And you... are just a girl with a kettle."
He steps closer.
Raises his hand.
And with a slow movement, he lifts me into the air by the neck, without touching me.
"Your grandmother was strong.
You are weak."
I try to breathe.
I try to summon energy.
But my body feels heavy.
My spirit is crushed.
"You... will not... win..." I manage to say.
"I already have," he laughs.
"The portal will fall. And the King will walk between worlds."
And then...
A sound of metal clashing against metal.
A golden light cuts through the air.
The gwisin lets out a scream—and is thrown backward, as if punched by a giant.
And where he stood…
He is.
The dokkaebi from the cafe.
Dok-hee.
With his black iron staff, now wreathed in golden flames.
Eyes flashing.
Cold smile.
"Touch her again," he says, his voice low, deadly, "and I'll break you into pieces before the portal claims you."
The gwisin recoils.
Hisses.
And then, he disappears in a cloud of black smoke.
Silence returns.
The rain too.
And I fall to the ground, coughing, shaking.
Dok-hee turns.
He doesn't help me up.
He just looks at me.
"You shouldn't have come alone."
"I… I could have won…"
"I couldn't."
He crouches down.
His golden eyes glow in the darkness. "You're brave, Ji-eun.
But courage doesn't kill an Elder.
And if I hadn't come…"
He stops.
And for the first time, I see something in his face.
Fear.
For me.
"Go home," he says, standing up.
"And tomorrow… make a stronger coffee."
And then, he disappears.
As if he'd never been there.
I'm left on the ground, soaked, weak, but alive.
And for the first time…
I'm not sure if he saved me out of duty.
Or for something greater.