Later that night,
Seong-ah walked slowly toward the house, her steps heavy as though the ground itself wanted to hold her back. The moon hung low, casting pale light across her face—eyes swollen, lips trembling, and her usual warmth dimmed into a hollow expression.
The door creaked as she entered. Inside, the faint scent of incense still lingered in the air, wrapping around her like a memory she didn't want to face.
"Seong-ah, Seong-ah—what happened?" Mother Goddess turned from the altar, her brows knitting together as she saw her daughter's face.
"Mom…" Seong-ah's voice cracked, so small it was almost a whisper.
"Yes, I'm here," her mother answered softly, stepping closer.
"Mom…" she said again, her throat tightening.
"Yes, child?" Concern deepened in the woman's eyes, but she waited patiently.
Seong-ah's lips trembled as the words pushed against her tongue. "Mom—" Her breath hitched, and tears welled in her eyes. "Something… something bad happened to me. Something that shouldn't have happened."
Mother Goddess's hands froze mid-reach, her voice low and careful. "What are you saying, Seong-ah?"
Seong-ah swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of her robe. Finally, she let it out, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Mom… Gyeonwoo found out."
Her mother's eyes widened. "Found out what?"
"That I'm… the shaman," Seong-ah whispered, her voice breaking. "He saw me. In front of the abandoned house."
The air between them seemed to still. The incense smoke swirled slowly, curling like a silent witness to the moment neither of them had wanted to arrive.
"What?" Mother Goddess's voice sharpened in surprise, but before she could say more, Seong-ah shook her head, her tears spilling freely.
"I don't know, Mom… it really… sunk me." Her voice trembled, her chest tightening with each word. "He—he literally cried in front of me. And it was—" She clutched at her heart, her breath hitching, "—it was heart-aching. Because no matter what I said… he didn't believe me. Not even a little. Until now, I thought… I thought he trusted me."
Her shoulders shook as sobs escaped, the sound raw and broken.
Mother Goddess's expression softened, her sternness melting into maternal concern. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Seong-ah, pulling her into the kind of embrace that was meant to shield her from the world's cruelty.
"Shhh…" she whispered, gently rubbing her daughter's back. "I know it hurts, my child. I know. But sometimes… people's fear blinds them to the truth. He's scared—scared of what he doesn't understand."
Seong-ah buried her face in her mother's shoulder, her voice muffled but desperate. "But Mom… why does it feel like I lost something that I never even had the chance to protect?"
Her mother held her tighter, feeling the shiver that ran through her. "Because you care for him," she murmured. "And caring makes every wound cut deeper. But listen to me, Seong-ah… this isn't the end. There will come a time when he will see you for who you are—not just what you are."
For a long while, neither moved. The room was silent except for the faint crackle of the incense burning on the altar, its smoke curling between them like a prayer neither could voice.
After some time, the faint creak of the wooden door broke the heavy silence in the room. Do Ryeong stepped inside, brushing the cool night air from his sleeves. His sharp eyes darted between Seong-ah and Mother Goddess, both sitting quietly on the floor, the incense smoke curling lazily above them.
"You're serious?" he asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and intrigue. "You actually danced with Yeomhwa?"
Seong-ah slowly nodded, still holding her mother's earlier comfort in the corners of her mind. "Yeah… she invited me. Said it would be better if we performed together, so… I did."
Do Ryeong blinked, his lips curling in astonishment. "Wow… you're really brave, Seong-ah. You actually danced with Yeomhwa… face to face, no fear? That's something."
But before Seong-ah could respond, Mother Goddess's voice sliced through the air, sharp and heavy with anger. "Brave? Do you even hear yourself, Do Ryeong?" She turned her gaze to her daughter, her eyes narrowing. "Seong-ah… do you have any idea what you've done?"
Seong-ah's brows furrowed. "What…? She said she was a shaman, like us—"
"That's the lie!" Mother Goddess's voice rose, echoing against the walls. "She is not a shaman like us." Her hand slammed down on the wooden table, rattling the small offering bowls. "She is an evil witch, one who thrives on deception and darkness!"
The words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable.
Seong-ah froze, the realization hitting her like a cold wave. The image of Yeomhwa's smile while they danced flashed in her mind—graceful, alluring… and now, terrifying.
Do Ryeong's smirk faded into a deep frown. "An evil witch…" he repeated under his breath, as though the words tasted bitter.
Mother Goddess's gaze softened slightly toward Seong-ah, but her tone remained firm. "You were tricked, my child. She didn't just want to dance with you… she wanted something else."
Seong-ah's heartbeat quickened. Then what did she want?
"Be safe around her," Mother Goddess warned, her voice low but firm. "Whenever she comes to you again… just inform me immediately."
Seong-ah swallowed hard and nodded. "I understand, Mom."
---
The Next Day
The morning sunlight felt dull and pale, as if it had borrowed its color from the heaviness in Seong-ah's chest. She made her way to Gyeonwoo's house, her steps slow but steady, just like every other day. But today… everything felt different.
He was there, standing by the gate, adjusting his bag. Normally, his eyes would meet hers—maybe with a smile, maybe with a tease—but now, he didn't even glance her way. Without a word, he turned and began to walk off on his own, his back a wall she couldn't climb.
"I'm sorry, Gyeonwoo…" she whispered to herself, the words too fragile to leave the safety of her lips.
---
Later That Day
The three of them—Jiho, Gyeonwoo, and Seong-ah—walked along the quiet corridor of the school. The sound of their footsteps echoed faintly against the lockers, but between Seong-ah and Gyeonwoo… there was only silence.
"Hey, wait," Jiho called out, stepping in front of them. He eyed them both with suspicion. "What are you two? Why does it feel so weird between you today? Did you… argue about something?"
Neither of them answered. Gyeonwoo's gaze drifted away, and Seong-ah kept her eyes on the floor. Without a single word, they both moved past Jiho, leaving him standing in the middle of the corridor, confusion painted all over his face.
---
At the Canteen
The atmosphere was so tense it felt like even the clatter of trays and chatter of students couldn't pierce it. Do Doyeon had taken the seat right between Gyeonwoo and Seong-ah, as if physically keeping them apart would make the awkwardness less noticeable.
"Why? What happened? Just tell us something already!" Cho Hyero blurted out, slamming her chopsticks down.
Jiho smirked and leaned back in his chair. "First time I'm actually liking your words, Hyero."
Hyero's cheeks flushed pink, her annoyance faltering under the unexpected praise. "W-well, someone had to say it!" she mumbled.
"Nothing serious," Seong-ah finally muttered, her voice barely above the hum of the cafeteria.
Do Doyeon glanced between them, then leaned in with a sly smile. "Alright… if we can't talk about Gyeonwoo and Seong-ah, let's just call them… peas."
"Peas?" Jiho raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Doyeon said, chuckling. "One green, one stubborn. Stuck in the same pod but pretending they don't notice each other."
A few of their friends laughed, but between Gyeonwoo and Seong-ah… the air still didn't clear.
"I… don't understand," Hyeri said, frowning as she set down her spoon. Her eyes darted between Gyeonwoo and Seong-ah like she was trying to read a language only they knew.
Do Doyeon sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair as if he were about to tell the most complicated tale. "Alright, listen closely. Imagine two peas in the same pod—let's call them… Green Pea and Stubborn Pea. They've always rolled around together, side by side. But one day… something happens. Now, Green Pea won't even look at Stubborn Pea, and Stubborn Pea keeps pretending it's all fine… even though it's not."
Hyeri tilted her head, still puzzled. "So… the peas are Gyeonwoo and Seong-ah?"
Do Doyeon smirked. "I never said that. But if the pod fits…"
Across the table, Seong-ah lowered her gaze to her untouched food, and Gyeonwoo stayed silent, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. The unspoken truth between them felt louder than any explanation Doyeon could give.
The sun was low, painting the terrace in a warm, golden haze as the wind whispered against the railings. Seong-ah stood there, her hands gripping the edge of the cold metal, her heart pounding so hard she feared it might drown out her voice.
"Come with me," she had said earlier, her tone so serious that both Gyeonwoo and Jiho followed without question. Now, up on the terrace, the three of them stood in a small triangle, the air between them tense and expectant.
"I… want to reveal something." Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to meet their eyes. Jiho tilted his head, curious, while Gyeonwoo's gaze stayed guarded, unreadable.
"I… am a shaman," she finally confessed, each word falling like a stone into still water. "And I'm really, really sorry for not telling you sooner."
Jiho blinked, confusion flickering across his features, but Gyeonwoo's jaw tightened ever so slightly.
"I've been a shaman since I was a child," she continued, her voice softer now, almost breaking. "I didn't go to elementary school. I didn't go to high school. All those years… I was just living as a shaman, doing rituals, guiding spirits, carrying burdens I never asked for." Her fingers twisted together as if holding back everything she wanted to hide. "But I wanted to be like a normal human, to live like everyone else—so I came here, to study, to… try."
Her throat felt dry, but she pushed on, her eyes darting between them. "I know you don't like shamans, Gyeonwoo… I knew it from the start. But still, I wanted to be friends with you. I tried my best to be close to you, to… be someone you could trust. I'm sorry if that was selfish."
The wind picked up, brushing her hair into her face, but she didn't move it away. She just stood there, bare and vulnerable under their gaze.
"And yesterday…" She swallowed hard, glancing at Gyeonwoo for the briefest moment. "Gyeonwoo found out. That I'm a shaman. And… it didn't go well." Her voice broke on the last word, and the weight of her truth hung between them like a storm that had yet to break.
Gyeonwoo didn't say a word. He just turned away, his steps heavy but quick, as though the very air between them was suffocating him. Seong-ah's shoulders slumped as she exhaled a long, shaky sigh, the kind that carried more exhaustion than relief.
"How—" Jiho began, his voice uncertain, "but what will you do now?"
Her gaze stayed fixed on the ground, her hands curling into loose fists. "Even if he hates me… I'm still risking everything to protect him," she murmured, the words tasting bitter and raw.
Jiho studied her, torn between admiration and frustration. "But… how many days does he have left?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Five days."
Jiho's eyes widened. "What? That's… that's so hard," he admitted, his tone stripped of teasing for once, revealing the weight of what he'd just heard.
---
Meanwhile
The Mother Goddess walked with calm but deliberate steps, a small satchel of belongings swinging at her side as she made her way toward Yeomhwa. Every movement was purposeful, her expression unreadable yet sharp with intent.
Before she could reach her destination, Do Ryeong stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "By the way," he asked, his eyes narrowing, "what are you going to do about her?"
The Mother Goddess's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I shall knock some sense into her," she replied without hesitation.
Do Ryeong frowned, the faintest twitch in his jaw, before simply stepping aside. "Do what you will," he muttered, then turned his back, choosing not to involve himself further.
---
Later
The street was quiet except for the sound of footsteps—Jiho, Gyeonwoo, Hyerii, Do Doyeon, and Seong-ah walking together under the faint orange glow of the streetlamps.
Hyerii quickened her pace until she was in front of Gyeonwoo and Jiho, spinning to face them. "Are you being serious about the project Sir assigned us?" she asked, hands on her hips.
Both young men nodded, though it was reluctant, like the question was more of a chore than a real concern.
"Then how many days do you have left to finish it?" she pressed.
They sighed almost in unison, avoiding her eyes.
"No time left for us," she scolded. "Come on. We need to do it immediately!"
---
Seong-ah trailed behind the group, her steps slower, her eyes lowered—not to the ground, but toward something no one else could see. Her gaze lingered on the tiny ghost of a child, pale and translucent, clinging to Do Doyeon's leg as if it were the only safe place in the world.
Do Doyeon caught her staring. "What are you looking at? My leg??"
Startled, Seong-ah quickly waved her hands. "No, no—it's nothing like that," she said hastily, forcing a thin smile.
---
Suddenly, a harsh voice cut through the quiet night.
"My baby! Where's my baby?!"
A ragged, wild-eyed woman was digging through a pile of garbage nearby, her movements frantic, hair matted and tangled. Her hands tore through bags and broken boxes, scattering trash across the pavement as she wailed.
Everyone froze.
Before Seong-ah could react, Do Doyeon shifted closer, hiding behind her like a child clinging to a parent, his hand wrapping around hers in a tight, almost desperate grip. She blinked at him, confused by his sudden change in demeanor.
The madwoman's eyes darted toward them, and without warning, she shrieked and bolted in their direction.
In an instant, she lunged for Do Doyeon, her filthy hands tangling in his hair and yanking hard.
The madwoman's grip on Do Doyeon's hair tightened, and his own hands flew up in defense, grabbing at her tangled locks in retaliation.
"Let go!" he shouted, his voice cracking from both pain and anger.
"No! Give me my baby!" she screamed back, her words spilling out between sobs and ragged breaths.
They stumbled on the uneven pavement, their feet scraping against the ground as they pulled at each other's hair, the sounds of their struggle echoing off the darkened shopfronts.
The sudden, high-pitched wail of the baby ghost sliced through the chaos, its tiny, translucent form trembling. Its cries were shrill, mournful—piercing the night like a blade.
"Stop! Please, both of you!" Seong-ah rushed forward, her hands trying to pry them apart, but neither listened. The wild desperation in the woman's eyes and the stubborn indignation on Do Doyeon's face made them deaf to reason.
Finally, after a brief but exhausting tussle, they pulled free from each other's grip, both panting and disheveled. The madwoman stumbled back, muttering incoherently, while Do Doyeon smoothed his hair with trembling fingers.
As the tension broke, the ghost child's crying abruptly stopped. Its lips curled into a small, eerie smile, its eyes glimmering with an emotion Seong-ah couldn't quite place.
She exhaled slowly, her shoulders sinking in relief. "At least you're smiling now…" she murmured under her breath, though the sight left her with an uneasy feeling she couldn't shake.
Jiho and Gyeonwoo walked side by side, their steps slow and quiet.
Seong-ah trailed behind, Jiho's earlier words echoing in her mind—
"I have to be close to Gyeonwoo… he'd at least believe someone like me. If I'm not there, he wouldn't believe anyone."
She let out a slow breath, the knot in her chest loosening. Yes… as long as someone is beside him.
With that thought, she quickened her pace to rejoin them.
---
Later — Library
The warm, dusty air of the library carried the faint scent of old paper and coffee. They gathered around a table piled with open books and notebooks.
Seong-ah, however, barely touched hers. Her eyes were locked on the baby ghost hovering quietly at the edge of the table, its gaze fixed on her with unnerving stillness.
Mother Goddess's voice whispered in her memory—
"Console them, no matter what. Only then will they find peace."
Determined, she pursed her lips and began making odd, playful sounds, trying to coax a smile from the spirit.
The others looked up, blinking in confusion.
"Uh… what are you doing?" Jiho asked, eyebrow raised.
Seong-ah sighed, giving up. "Never mind…"
But then—
The baby ghost's head turned.
Its eyes—hollow, yet strangely curious—shifted to Gyeonwoo.
Seong-ah's heartbeat spiked.
Her gaze darted to him: one hand resting on the table, the other casually holding a cup of coffee.
Without thinking, she reached across the table and gripped his free hand tightly, her palm clammy against his skin.
The baby ghost's face twisted.
A sharp, piercing wail erupted from its tiny form.
The sound was so jarring that Gyeonwoo jolted—
The coffee cup slipped from his grip, shattering against the floor. Glass shards flew, one slicing across his hand in a thin, deep line.
"Gyeonwoo!" Seong-ah gasped, leaning closer, her own hand trembling as crimson beads welled up along his skin.
Gyeonwoo's eyes locked on her for a long, cold moment.
Seong-ah's grip loosened, and she stepped back.
"I'm sorry… are you okay, Gyeonwoo?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he turned and walked away without so much as a glance back.
---
The evening sky was fading into a dusky lavender as Seong-ah and the others walked down the narrow street. The sound of their footsteps echoed softly, mingling with the distant hum of traffic. The air carried a faint chill, and the last streaks of sunlight glinted off the rooftops.
Seong-ah slowed her pace until she was walking just beside Do Doyeon. Her eyes darted toward Gyeonwoo and Jiho ahead of them, deep in their own quiet thoughts, before she turned to Doyeon with a careful smile.
"Doyeon," she began softly.
Doyeon looked at her with a faint tilt of her head. "Hmm?"
Seong-ah clasped her hands together behind her back, feigning casualness. "Can I… come to your home?" she asked, her voice light but carrying an edge of curiosity she tried to hide.
"Why?" Doyeon's tone was suspicious, almost guarded.
Seong-ah paused, her eyes flickering away for a second. "Hmm… just because…" she said vaguely, pretending to think.
Doyeon's brows arched. "Do you want to learn English from me?" she asked suddenly.
Seong-ah nodded quickly, grateful for the excuse. "Yes… exactly."
---
Arriving at Doyeon's Home
The two parted from Gyeonwoo and Jiho, turning into a quieter lane where the houses stood close together, their windows glowing faintly in the fading light. Doyeon led the way to a small, older-looking house with weathered wooden steps and a door that groaned softly when it opened.
Inside, it was warmer, the air filled with a faint scent of cedarwood and something sweeter—like dried flowers. Seong-ah stepped in and instinctively bowed slightly, her eyes flicking to the walls.
"Hello," she murmured toward them politely.
Doyeon gave her a puzzled look. "There's nobody else here. I live alone," she revealed plainly.
Seong-ah's lips curved into a small nod, but she didn't comment. She knew better than to reveal what she actually saw—or sensed.
---
The Room of Dolls
Doyeon led her up a narrow staircase, the wooden steps creaking under their weight, and into a room at the far end of the hall. When she pushed open the door, Seong-ah felt her breath catch.
The room was lined with shelves, each one crowded with dolls of all sizes and styles—ceramic, cloth, plastic, porcelain—some dressed in elaborate gowns, others in simple frocks. Their glassy eyes reflected the warm lamplight, giving them an oddly lifelike gleam.
"These are my collection," Doyeon said with a hint of pride, her hand sweeping toward the shelves. "Aren't they beautiful?"
Seong-ah's gaze lingered on each face, but then—her attention was pulled to something else entirely.
Hovering just behind Doyeon's shoulder was the baby ghost. Its translucent form swayed gently, its empty gaze fixed on Seong-ah. A thin, unmistakable red thread wound from its tiny, pale hand toward the shelf—connecting to the wrist of a Barbie doll dressed in a faded pink gown.
Seong-ah's eyes narrowed slightly. So that's it… The ghost and the doll were linked.
---
The Tension
Trying to mask her unease, Seong-ah stepped closer to the shelf and reached out toward the Barbie doll. Its painted smile was small, but somehow unsettling, and the thread between it and the ghost seemed to pulse faintly.
"Wow, you have a good eye for dolls," Doyeon said from behind her, a strangely flat note in her voice. She moved closer, her presence almost pressing against Seong-ah's back. "That one is special. She's my daughter."
Seong-ah's hand froze mid-reach.
"I can't give her to you," Doyeon continued, her words soft yet final.
Seong-ah turned her head slightly. "I'm not trying to take her," she said carefully, trying to keep her tone neutral.
But Doyeon's expression was unreadable—her eyes calm, but her smile a touch too still.
"Please," Doyeon said suddenly, almost pleading. "Don't touch her."
Seong-ah hesitated, then slowly let her hand fall back to her side, stepping away from the shelf.
---
She had barely taken two steps when something sharp brushed her shoulder—then pain exploded in her side. Doyeon had kicked her.
The impact sent Seong-ah stumbling forward into the edge of a low table. She caught herself on her palms, the shock of the blow leaving her breathless.
For a moment, she didn't look back. The room had gone unnaturally quiet. Even the faint creaks of the house had ceased.
When she finally turned her head, Doyeon was standing perfectly still, her figure framed by the warm lamplight—but her eyes seemed darker, her smile lingering in a way that made Seong-ah's skin crawl.
Behind her, the baby ghost swayed silently, the red thread between it and the doll now stretched taut, as if something was pulling at both ends.
And that was when Seong-ah saw it—the Barbie doll's plastic head had tilted ever so slightly. Its glossy eyes were no longer facing forward.
They were staring directly at her.
Seong-ah stepped out of the dimly lit room, closing the door behind her with a soft click that seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness of the house. The warmth of the lamp-lit room gave way to the cooler, quieter hallway, but the chill creeping down her spine refused to leave.
She leaned against the wall, letting out a long, shaky sigh. "Oh God… what was that?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely louder than a breath. Her hands trembled slightly as she pressed them against her temples, trying to steady her racing thoughts.
Her mind replayed every moment—the baby ghost's small, trembling form, the taut red thread connecting it to the doll, Doyeon's sudden kick, the eerie tilt of the Barbie doll's head. Even now, she could feel the ghost's silent gaze on her, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Seong-ah closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, forcing herself to take a deep breath. I have to stay calm… I have to protect him… I can't let this get out of control.
She opened her eyes and scanned the hallway, making sure she wasn't being watched. The house seemed empty, but the lingering tension pressed against her like an invisible weight. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something unseen was following her—even as she moved away from the room.
With one last shuddering sigh, Seong-ah straightened her shoulders. "I can do this," she muttered under her breath. "I have to do this."
And with that, she continued down the hallway, every sense alert, ready for whatever might come next.
"I can't let the ghost trouble Gyeonwoo any more," she whispered fiercely to herself, her voice carrying a quiet determination that belied the nervous flutter in her chest. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to think clearly.
Every detail from earlier replayed vividly in her mind—the baby ghost's delicate, almost fragile form, the red thread linking it to the doll, and the way it seemed to silently plead for attention. Seong-ah knew that if she didn't act carefully, the spirit could cause more harm, not only to Gyeonwoo but to everyone around him.
She pressed her lips together and exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease just enough to plan. I have to protect him. No matter what. Even if it means putting myself at risk.
Her eyes scanned the hallway once more, alert for any sign of movement. The shadows seemed deeper here, the quiet more pressing, as if the very house was holding its breath. But Seong-ah straightened her shoulders, her gaze sharpening.
"I'll find a way," she vowed under her breath, "and I won't fail. Not this time."
With that resolve, she took a careful step forward, moving toward where she could confront the ghost safely and ensure that Gyeonwoo would be free from its influence. Every step was measured, her mind a mixture of caution and determination—ready to face whatever might come.