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Lovesick Ghost Tales
墨書 Inktalez
Chapter One
If forced to choose between starting life over and moving forward, Song Bunan would undoubtedly opt for a peaceful exit from this world.
What could possibly exist in a dilapidated and ancient house?
Shattered glass scattered across the floor, thick with dust; creaky wooden stairs that seemed ready to splinter with the next step; cabinets reduced to mere frames by the ravages of time; cobwebs that refused to be swept away...
And then there were the malevolent spirits, relentless in their pursuit, roaring terrifyingly with ghastly faces that sent chills down one’s spine.
As Song Bunan rounded a corner, he quickened his pace toward the balcony that could be opened, grateful for the protective symbols drawn on the glass door that looked as if it could be blown down with a single breath. He turned the handle and pushed the door open, watching as the horrifying visage was blocked by the glass on the other side. His heart raced uncontrollably, fear urging him to move away from the door. He pulled out the flashlight he had just stowed away and retreated toward the balcony.
This balcony was something he had learned about from a letter. In this entire rundown and chaotic house, it was clear that someone had taken great care to clean this space. The tables and chairs were neatly arranged without a speck of dust, the handrails had been repaired, and there were fresh water stains on the white tiled floor. A trash bin in the corner held several cigarette butts and crumpled paper. All these signs indicated that someone had been here regularly.
Though he couldn't quite fathom what kind of person would frequent such a place, at this moment, as he sat on a chair catching his breath, Song Bunan felt nothing but endless gratitude.
His watch indicated it was just past three in the morning, with at least two hours left until dawn. Exhausted and on the brink of collapse, Song Bunan leaned against the table and pulled out a small packet of glucose from his bag. He needed to wait on this balcony until the sun fully rose and transformed this house back into its dilapidated state before he could leave. But the time before dawn is often the coldest part of night, especially in such a sinister place; if luck was on his side, he might only catch a cold, but if not, he could freeze into unconsciousness.
After replenishing his energy, he tossed the empty packet into the trash bin and turned on his flashlight again to survey the balcony. The empty space was surrounded by trees taller than the house itself; the moon hung bright yet not perfectly round in the sky. The balcony was located on the third floor of this old building, where each level had ample height—enough for an ordinary person to break a leg from jumping down from just the second floor.
No one equipped with ropes would be foolish enough to abandon thoughts of jumping down first; after all, freezing would only lead to illness at home, while jumping down could mean death. It seemed that the malevolent spirit behind the glass door had departed; shining his flashlight revealed only an empty long corridor.
Not wanting to take any more risks against that towering spirit, Song Bunan realized that waiting here until dawn was his only option.
The phone had no signal, and being in an uninhabited suburb made things worse. To top it off, the friend who was supposed to accompany him not only arrived late but ultimately stood him up. At this thought, Song Bunan felt more exhausted than when he was being chased earlier. Sitting on the chair, he savored the unique sweetness of glucose, taking advantage of the solitude to complain about his friend.
When there were no entertainment facilities to pass the time, moments felt like they dragged on endlessly. Although it seemed like at least an hour had passed, glancing at his watch revealed that the minute hand had only moved two ticks. Experiencing what it meant for time to stretch painfully long, he sank deeper into his chair, wishing only to see the sun.
Why did he come to such a place? After emptying his thoughts, Song Bunan asked himself this question, receiving a simple and clear answer from deep within: "Crazy!"
"Ouch..." Song Bunan sighed dramatically, feeling drowsy but his body reminded him not to sleep. "I’m just asking for trouble; this is exactly what I deserve."
When one quiets their mind, they tend to overthink, and Song Bunan was particularly skilled at this. Although he was well aware that he was in a dangerous and strange area, he couldn't resist his instinct to relax. Leaning back in his chair, he let his imagination run wild, picturing a divine warrior with extraordinary abilities descending from the heavens to battle a hundred demons.
Just as he lost himself in this fantasy, propping his chin up while envisioning himself and the divine warrior embarking on a journey to the underworld together, a sudden bright light jolted him back to reality. Rubbing his sore, teary eyes, Song Bunan realized that not only might he worsen his nearsightedness, but he could also end up blind prematurely.
Once his vision cleared, he noticed that the bright light still surrounded him. Following its source, he could vaguely see someone standing there. Thinking of using his flashlight to check if it was a person or a ghost, Song Bunan grabbed the flashlight from the table only to discover it had run out of battery and turned off without him noticing.
With no other option, he put away the flashlight and headed toward the source of the light. When he reached the edge of the balcony, he suddenly noticed a staircase that hadn’t been there before. The majority of it was shrouded in darkness, making it impossible to tell if it turned at any point. However, as he moved closer, the beam of light shifted along with him and flickered twice as if inviting him.
The light illuminated the stairs ahead of him, growing impatient as Song Bunan hesitated. This unknown invitation felt both like a trap and a glimmer of hope; standing at the crossroads where advancing meant uncertainty and retreating meant darkness left him conflicted. Perhaps sensing Song Bunan's hesitation, the source of the light swept across the entire staircase.
It was a gentle slope downwards; the staircase was about a meter wide with no railings on either side. Its dimensions were ordinary as it led straight to a small room.
Song Bunan thought that even if things turned out badly after going down there—like encountering a kidnapper—it would still be easier to deal with a human than with a ghost. Gripping his backpack strap tightly and gritting his teeth, he stepped onto the staircase. The light followed his footsteps perfectly, illuminating four or five steps ahead so that he wouldn’t miss them.
Once he steadied himself on the last step, Song Bunan looked up to see the full view of the small room. It was also a two-story structure but seemed only as large as two combined bedrooms from the main house. The decor matched that of the main house but lacked many decorative details. The streetlight in front of the door was orange, and standing under it was a boy dressed in plush pajamas and slippers, holding a rather large spotlight while glaring at him with an expression full of impatience.
"How long do you expect me to wait? It's really cold out here, you know? Just going down the stairs and you're taking forever!" The boy complained, turning to head back inside. As he opened the door and stepped in, he glanced back to see Song Bunan still standing there, looking lost. Frustrated, he rolled his eyes and snapped at the backpacker.
"Get in here."
The room felt cramped due to the clutter of items everywhere. After placing his bag on the sofa, Song Bunan barely settled in before a damp towel hit him square in the face. It was then that he got a good look at the boy: short black hair, pale skin, and he couldn't be older than twenty. The boy had a weary expression, clearly disturbed from sleep, and stared back at him with an unreadable face.
Realizing that this person likely had a short temper and that he had probably encountered the manager, Song Bunan silently grabbed the towel to wipe his face. He noticed it was still warm and carried a faint floral scent. The aroma eased his nerves, which had been tense moments before, and fatigue suddenly washed over him. Just as he intended to return the towel and say thank you, his vision blurred, and he lost consciousness.
The boy watched in disbelief as Song Bunan suddenly collapsed. Exasperated, he rolled his eyes skyward. Taking the towel back, he shoved the backpacker onto the sofa and grabbed a blanket from the cabinet, tossing it haphazardly over him. In a few quick strides, he headed upstairs to his own room.
"There's always someone with a screw loose coming here for an adventure; it's infuriating," he muttered as he switched off the light, already planning to give the newcomer a piece of his mind when he woke up tomorrow.
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