"You're late again."
"Yes sir." Hajoon kept his head bowed as another hit of that paper weapon—clenched in a pale fist like a rod—came down on his head.
"Are you a lazy roach?"
"No sir."
Hajoon didn't move an inch as another thwack landed, insulated by his rain-puffed hair. He supposed it looked rather silly, being reprimanded by his manager this way. Maybe that was why his coworkers passed him by, only giggling and whispering to themselves.
"Wrong answer, Mr. Park."
Acting manager of Gencure's publicity department, James Wright, leaned down to flash his subordinate a sneer. It meant only one thing, a promotion from office doormat to office floor. From being stepped on a few times a day, to constant shoes trampling you wherever you went.
"Right. Of course you're right, Mr.Wright."
"I'm a Wright, always right." He ran a hand through his nearly silver hair, the roots of his brown hair showing before he carefully smoothened it down. The western ideal of ash-coloured wasn't always natural. A fact that Hajoon only learned through observing this hair obsessed fool.
You're more of a Wrong. It fits how you're so confidently wrong.
Honestly, if I could legally change your name, I would.
"Sometimes I wonder who you seduced to keep this job, you know?"
I'm sorry, what?
"...Ah, sir? What do you mean?" Hajoon's smile twitched, keeping his head bowed as Mr. Wrong, his manager, chuckled to himself.
"You know what I mean, let's not pretend. We all know how Riotbankers are!"
"Ah. Yes. Haha."
The paper weapon tapped against his cheek, then slapped it. Why did Mr. Wrong do that? Just because he could. There was more plausible deniability to that move than there was to a regular slap.
"Why are you laughing, huh? Did I say you could laugh?" Mr. Wrong frowned.
"No, sir."
"You roaches can't take anything seriously. What qualifications do you even have, huh?" He sneered, then tossed the rolled paper weapon onto his desk. The mess it created would be left for Hajoon to clean later. He wasn't allowed to clock out until he did the janitor's job for them after all.
Top graduate of Ashford University, and licensed lawyer are just meaningless words to this fucker I guess. Hells, they even called me overqualified during the interview, and now we have a problem?
Stop shoveling all of your work to me if you think I'm so unqualified you bloody–
"Ask the hiring manager, sir. Maybe there was a mistake in the hiring process after all?" Hajoon offered, keeping his voice as dull as possible. He often stirred up trouble by coming off as sarcastic, so it didn't hurt to be cautious.
"Maybe I will."
"Ah. Okay, sir."
"Tch. Why does she hang around a spineless bastard like you?" Mr. Wrong cursed under his breath, his eyebrows pressing together like two thin worms. Hajoon simply chose to ignore that question.
"She really must be easy. I should upgrade her options." He laughed before fixing his dyed silver hair and calling out to one of the women passing by. It was his newest target, Lee Hyejin, who he'd started eyeing after burning through every moderately attractive woman in his vicinity. "Mr. Park here volunteered to play fetch today! Be sure to work him to the bone, Ms. Lee!"
Hyejin glanced at Hajoon's bowed form, then laughed, although she kept it outwardly polite. "He's always volunteering! You really worry about our wellbeing too much, Mr. Park!"
Please trip down the stairs today so I can laugh at you too.
"Haha…right! I'm always worrying if you all got your favorite coffees, or if you hurt your feet walking across the hall to the printer room and back!" Hajoon finally stood, but kept his back haunched. He didn't want to be accused of looking down on them after all. Even if it was physically impossible for him not to.
Mr. Wrong didn't seem to like Hajoon's tone, glaring at him before stepping in between him and Hyejin. "You like latte, right? Extra sugar, sweet, like you?"
He was confidently wrong, as usual, but it was obvious what he was getting at.
"Oh? Haha! Yes, I like that too!" Hyejin clasped her hands together, feigning interest in the western man's tastes. Watching her hide her scowl was always entertaining.
A latte for Mr. Wrong here, and an espresso for her, bitter as possible. Guess I'll have to fetch now.
"Two lattes, two sugars and creams, got it." Hajoon smiled, then padded off in the vague direction of the coffee machines. An angry set of eyes followed him, perhaps feeling betrayed by his lack of care; but he only gave what he got.
You reap what you sow, Hyejin.
"Excuse me…" He murmured and bowed his head to someone who stood in the way between him and the coffee machines. When they didn't move, Hajoon assumed they didn't hear him and cleared his throat.
Ha..? Is she ignoring me on purpose? Who even is this?
Hajoon blinked away the static of his headache, scratching at his wrist to use that pain to stay alert. He watched her, and the somewhat outdated fashion of her skirt and blouse, then wondered if he had somehow pissed her off, whoever this was. There were too many faces here to remember, and he didn't particularly care to either.
"Excuse me? Miss?" He tapped her shoulder, or at least tried to. Suddenly he couldn't move, an intense cold seeping through his fingertip and up his arm. It felt as though something was ripping through his nerves, clawing its way inside.
"Ghk–" He managed to inhale, just as that head snapped back with a crunch. What stared at him were not eyes, but hands, fingers that covered that face, inside and out, clawing themselves out of the empty sockets and reaching outward towards him.
"Don't ToUch mE–! Don't..!!" A weeping, rasping voice came from a face with no mouth. When he snatched his hand back, clutching at his heart as the room began to swim in a fog of smoke and colour, the monster simply stared, then turned the rest of her body to face him.
He sucked in a breath, feeding the lungs and heart that seemed to beat too fast, too hard. He could see it, a bruise around her neck, a ripped skirt, then hands, many, too many, that reached out and gripped him, tried to rip at him the same way.
"Kill him–! I'll kill him..!!" That voice sobbed, just as a trickle of red dripped from Hajoon's nose, and onto his shirt.
Fucking dejavu–
This time he pushed them away immediately, or at least, he tried to. His hand went right through her, leaving only the cold feeling of suffocation as his attempt to pry those many hands away only made him look like a lunatic to those who passed by. Their eyes made him stop, forcing a smile and standing up as the air was choked out of him.
He managed to grab two cups through the pain, his eyesight flashing white and black at random intervals.
He had always played contrarian, poking holes into every theory and ghost story until he was crowned public enemy number one within supernatural forums during his glory days. But the creature in front of his face, blocking his view of the coffee machine, was clearly a ghost.
There's your fucking proof you moron–
"Ghk-"
Their curses must have been the real deal too. How many death threats did I get again? Did one of them say anything about being strangled and ripped to shreds by a hand ghost?
Haha…what a way to go out.
Coincidently, reading ghost stories just to laugh and nitpick did make one quite familiar with the cliches of the genre. For example, this particular ghost had a clear grudge, a victim of corporate power abuse, silenced through the threat of losing her job. To avoid a scandal, the perpetrator, a rich nepo baby, or, more likely, an old fart with money, killed her.
Now, she wanted to kill him, although she seemed incapable of naming the culprit. What he deduced was that she was a low intelligence ghost, a walking talking grudge and nothing else. She– no, it, didn't know better, so it followed a simple justice of guilty until proven innocent and dead.
That hurts. Fuck.
"Whoa–! It's overflowing..!" An annoyingly upbeat voice yelped in his stead, turning off the flow of coffee that had burned his hand. The owner of it, Ando Natsuki—the 'puppy-like' new hire, as the others put it—was already fussing over Hajoon's hand, wiping at the spilled coffee.
"Are you okay Jun??"
No. Obviously not.
"Y..yea, fine." He managed a smile to reassure the man. He was almost tempted to ask who Jun was, but it wasn't the time to be purposely obtuse about a nickname.
"I don't know…do they keep burn cream at the office? Ah– wait..! Let me do it!" Ando snatched the cups from Hajoon's hands despite his protests, going about making the sickeningly sweet latte without a word.
"One of-" Hajoon winced, forcing the words out as the ghost screamed something in his ears. "Uh- one of those is a black. Expresso."
"Eh? Oh. For you?"
"No."
Two sets of eyes looked at him then, one revealed from under phantom hands that clawed and pulled at him, and the other squinted and human. Both were pitch black.
He couldn't decide which was more unnerving.
"Hey, Jun. Do you need to sit down?"
Hajoon's jaw clenched as he watched Ando's hand pat his back, his fingers phasing through the ghost's skin. He half expected it to scream, and jump over to strangle Ando instead of him. He almost hoped for it, but it didn't happen.
"Ah. No." He grit his teeth, struggling to push down his newfound frustration.
Why? Why me and not him?
What damn mistake did I make that he didn't? This is why I don't like ghost stories. They make no sense. None of them would hold up in court.
Ha…this isn't real anyway. I must be hallucinating. Maybe it's a symptom. I could use it to narrow down what this illness is.
To find a cure before I–
The memory of hands around his throat, more solid and painful then the ones that clawed and scratched while unable to leave any evidence of the fact, flashed across his mind. His hands gripped onto the counter atop where two machines steamed and wafted the distinct scent of smoke and coffee. He barely saw the drops of red that splattered on the marble surface, but he wiped it away before it could stain black.
Hajoon could hear two voices, one worried and loud, and another desperate and angry. Both were unwelcome, and came with hands that latched onto him.
"Hey..! Hey Jun–"
"Keep your head down like that! Let it flow, I'll get a tissue. Ack, shit–" A swear, followed by muttering in another language. Hajoon knew that language, but he was too tired to bother to understand.
"Kill HiM–!! I'll kiLL..!!"
He was so tired. He didn't want to hear it. But the broken record screeched anyway, over and over, again and again.
Shut up.
Don't touch me.
Let. Go.
The static in his mind fizzled, popped, then growled, another voice that drowned out the rest and gave him peace.
[ Do. Not. Dare. ]
The authority of that voice seemed to give pause to everything, and everyone. The ghost grew silent, her many hands wavering.
"Eh..? What? Jun– er, Mr. Park?" A confused Ando broke that silence, getting an irritated hiss in return.
"Piss off–" Hajoon nearly snarled, but finding that the ghost, and her hands were suddenly gone, he inhaled sharply, then walked away from the scene altogether. Although he did have to circle back for the coffee when he remembered why he had been there in the first place.
For the next few hours, he avoided every conversation, defaulting to nods and bows and fake smiles. By noon, even Ando gave up. Why? Because the ultimatum was clear, Hajoon was more than happy to listen to his ramblings, as long as he didn't twist it into an interrogation of any kind.
This is fine.
I'm fine.
[ You lie.]
I don't.
[ Haha…another lie. ]
No.
The voice chuckled, then went silent. Somehow he wished that it didn't, because a new voice quickly took its place.
"Hajoon-ssi? Are you okay?"
"Ah, I'm fine."
He had to smooth over his furrowed brows and wear a smile before looking up from his work. Lee Hyejin returned the smile with a slight downward slant to her eyebrows, pushing a coffee cup onto his desk.
He stared at the cup, which steamed with fresh foam. An overly milky coffee, which was a slap in the face of his lactose intolerance.
You're kidding. This is an assination attempt.
"Wha..? Pfft–!" Hyejin covered her mouth, stifling a snicker.
Ah. I said that out loud.
"Don't worry, it's camel milk! You won't die!"
"I'm sorry what?" He stared at her dumbfounded, searching for answers in her hazel eyes. But all that they told him was that she was crazy. There was no point trying to understand how she got ahold of something ridiculous like camel milk. She just did, and that was that.
"I did some research, you see! Even for lactose intolerant people, camel milk is good. No diarrhea or anything!"
Don't sound so proud of yourself.
Ha…I didn't even know camel's made milk. Is this a new way to bully the poor? It must be.
"Camels do make milk. Sphinxes do too, but that's more exotic. Can't guarantee we'd survive it either."
Who asked?? I didn't want to know that..!
"Haha…I see." Hajoon simply smiled, leaving the strange, potentially deadly coffee to cool right where it was.
"Huh. You really are under the weather. Mr. Ando wasn't exaggerating." She said, her gaze flickered from the ignored coffee, then back to his face. She seemed almost offended.
"So that's why you left me alone with…?" Hyejin didn't say the name, but it was clear who she meant. Mr. Wright wasn't a good man.
But it's not my job to save you. Why should it be?
Just talking to you is turning me into a target here. You should know how that feels. It's not exactly pleasant.
"Keep proof."
"What?" She blinked, a frown setting into place.
"So you can sue him for everything he's worth if he…crosses the line."
He couldn't help glancing at the ghost who wandered the office halls still, having reappeared after a few hours. It ignored him now, just as he ignored it. But still It roamed, eternally resentful.
It's best if that doesn't happen again. There's not much I can do, but what was the alternative? Doing nothing?
Could I really handle being haunted by a face I knew? No, I don't think so.
"Come on, Mr. Top Student, you know that's not how it works. In what world do I win that lawsuit?" She jabbed a finger at herself, her eyes squinted to offset the wrinkles of her eyebrows.
She was right, it was naive to think that anything would come of a regular lawsuit against a western man. Besides giving her vague advice, there was nothing Hajoon could do about it.
"Butter up everyone you can. Eye witnesses matter." He murmured, before going back to his work. He didn't look up when Hyejin took the coffee and chugged it herself, letting out a groan of frustration she no doubt hid for too long.
"You're damn annoying sometimes, Hajoon. But thanks. I needed to hear that."
"Mn."
"Thanks for the black coffee, by the way. I hate sugar."
"I'm not sweet." She grimaced when he didn't respond.
"Yeah, I know." Hajoon huffed out a breath, half a smile replacing his fake one.