But I Threw It Away

It was just past three-thirty in the morning when Lee Do finally pulled into his apartment complex. Even after parking in the underground lot, he didn't get out right away. He sat motionless in the driver's seat, staring straight ahead into the dim concrete expanse.

The stream was still live.

Viewers: 10,927.

Down from the peak of over twelve thousand just moments ago, but still an absurd, surreal number. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠And the chat rolled on without a second's rest.

"Follow me? Why the hell would it follow me?"

Even as the words left his mouth, Lee Do glanced up at the rearview mirror. The back seat was empty.

He checked the driver-side mirror.

Nothing.

The passenger-side mirror.

Nothing.

"See? There's nothing there."

"Ah."

Lee Do let out a dry, incredulous chuckle.

"You guys are real pieces of work."

Resting on the passenger seat was the lighter. On its transparent plastic casing, a small, pitch-black handprint remained etched. During the entire drive home, he had checked it over and over again. It hadn't faded. If anything, it seemed slightly more distinct than before.

"First, let's start with this."

Lee Do picked up the lighter from the passenger seat and held it close to the phone camera.

"Can you see it clearly?"

"Let's check it once I'm upstairs."

He slipped the lighter into his pocket. He moved to push the car door open, only to freeze.

The driver-side window.

The handprint pressed against the glass hadn't faded in the slightest. Five long, black fingers. Lee Do pulled out some tissues.

"You want me to just leave this smeared on my car?"

Cracking the door open, he stretched his arm out and wiped the exterior surface of the window.

Squeak.

"……Huh?"

It didn't wipe off. Lee Do put more muscle into it, scrubbing back and forth.

Rub, rub.

The print remained stubbornly intact.

"What the hell?"

He pulled out a wet wipe and scrubbed hard against the glass. Still, nothing changed.

"The inside?"

Pulling back the wet wipe, Lee Do leaned his face close to the inner glass.

"No way."

He brought a tissue to the inside of the window and wiped.

Swipe.

The black stain smeared.

Questions flooded the chat in an instant, asking how in the world a handprint could have formed inside a closed, locked vehicle.

Lee Do wiped the glass in stony silence. This time, it came off, the black residue soaking into the paper. He almost brought the tissue to his nose to smell it, but caught himself just in time.

"……Nope. Bad idea."

He folded the tissue immediately.

"I have a brain, you know."

Stepping out of the car, he pushed the driver-side door shut. The parking garage was deathly quiet, broken only by the faint, droning hum of the fluorescent fixtures vibrating overhead.

Bzzzz.

Lee Do scanned between the rows of parked cars. Nothing moved.

"Let's head up."

He walked over to the elevator bank and pressed the call button. While waiting, the chat rolled again.

Lee Do frowned at the phone screen.

"Hey. That tip was about a completely different place."

"Are you insane?"

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open. The cabin was empty. Lee Do stepped inside, pressed the button for the fourteenth floor, and watched the doors glide shut. The elevator climbed smoothly, devoid of incident.

Fourteenth floor.

Ding.

"Happy now?"

Lee Do stepped out into the hallway. Reaching his front door, he dropped his voice to a whisper.

"Keeping it quiet from here on out."

"Why the hell do you guys even remember that?"

He gently pushed the front door open, careful not to make a sound. The living room was pitched in complete darkness. Fortunately, the whole family seemed to be fast asleep. Slipping off his shoes without a sound, he crept into his bedroom and shut the door behind him with a soft click.

"Whew."

He sank into his desk chair.

"Now it's finally over."

To be honest, Lee Do was curious about that too.

"I'll check this one thing, and then I'm signing off."

He booted up his PC, transferred the live stream feed over, and opened a clip one of his viewers had saved from before he left.

Before departure.

The lighter sitting on the desk had been clearly captured on stream. Lee Do paused the video right on a sharp, clear frame.

"Right here."

Inside the transparent plastic, there wasn't a single blemish. It was completely pristine.

The next clip: right after escaping the laundromat, the moment he first checked the lighter inside the car. A faint, tiny handprint had appeared like a smudge of black soot.

And now, the present.

Lee Do held the actual lighter up to the webcam. Placed side by side, the difference was unmistakable.

It had grown far more vivid.

At first, one had to squint closely just to tell it resembled a hand. But now, it was unmistakable. A palm. Five fingers. Though small, the outline was sharp and distinct.

Lee Do turned the lighter over in his fingers.

"It's not on the outside."

He scraped at the surface with his thumbnail. Nothing flaked off.

"It's on the inside."

"I'm not taking it apart."

Lee Do had no desire to push his luck that far.

"Does it still spark, though?"

Click.

An ordinary flame wavered atop the nozzle.

"Works just fine."

"Merchandise, my ass."

Lee Do released the thumb lever. He stared down at the lighter for a long moment. The way he felt looking at the object had fundamentally shifted. Even when he had first bought it at the convenience store, it had felt unsettling, but back then, he had written it off as an ordinary trinket purchased in a bizarre place.

Now, after the laundromat, something had manifested inside it that wasn't there before. He recalled the police officer telling him he might need to hand it over as evidence. It could very well serve as proof. But keeping something like this inside a home where his family slept felt intensely wrong.

"……Should I just throw this away?"

Lee Do read through the chat for a while. As expected, there was no consensus. None of them knew what it was, and neither did he.

"Photos and videos are already recorded, and the police already inspected it in person anyway."

He gave the lighter a light shake.

"This thing cost ten won."

"If tossing a ten-won lighter buys me peace of mind, isn't that a net profit?"

"It got even weirder before I could even hand it over to the police," Lee Do muttered, pushing his chair back and standing up with the lighter in hand. "First off, I'm getting this out of the house."

"Who the hell is going all the way to the Han River?"

Lee Do picked up his streaming phone again, switching the broadcast feed back to mobile. He angled the camera downward toward the floor so the apartment building numbers and surrounding structures wouldn't be exposed.

"I'm heading to the waste bins and coming right back."

"My life has gotten so bizarre."

Out on the perimeter of the apartment complex, Lee Do stood before the bulk waste disposal bins. In the dead of night, not a soul was in sight.

"Tossing it here."

He held the lighter up to the camera for one final look. The translucent casing, and the single black handprint.

"Then you come take it."

Lee Do flipped open the lid and tossed the lighter inside.

Thud.

It tumbled deep into the container.

"Done."

He slammed the lid shut.

"Satisfied now?"

Lee Do turned on his heel and headed back inside.

3:58 AM.

Back in his bedroom, Lee Do slumped into his chair.

"That really is it for today."

"There is no next anomaly."

"I'm dead serious," Lee Do sighed. "I'm going to stream games."

"Piss off."

He clicked the 'End Stream' button. A broadcast termination notice flashed onto the screen.

Lee Do checked the corner of his monitor one last time. No new messages scrolled up. The steady, quiet whir of the computer fan filled the silence. He leaned back deep into his chair.

"……What an insane day."

Two days, to be exact. The convenience store. The laundromat. One inexplicable, horrifying encounter right after another.

Lee Do checked his phone. No missed calls. There was, however, a single message from Han Seoyun.

Seeing her worried text brought a faint smirk to his lips.

"Seriously."

A soft laugh escaped his lips.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

He put the phone down, dragged himself into the bathroom, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. He didn't have an ounce of energy left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to shower. Returning to his room, he changed into comfortable clothes and collapsed onto the mattress.

"I'm gonna die..."

Switching off the overhead light plunged the room into pitch blackness. Lee Do closed his eyes.

Inevitably, the images from tonight rushed back to the surface of his mind. The woman standing with her head slumped low. Her shadow moving independently of its own accord. The black handprint pressed against the inside of his car window.

Lee Do pulled the blanket all the way up to his chin.

"Just sleep."

He was bone-tired. His limbs felt heavy as lead, and before long, his consciousness began to drift into a hazy fog.

Click.

Lee Do's eyes snapped open.

It was a faint, sharp sound. Dazed with sleep, he couldn't tell if he had simply imagined it. He closed his eyes and tried to drift off again.

Click.

The second click was no illusion.

His eyes opened wide.

"What was that?"

Darkness. He couldn't see a thing. Fumbling blindly across the nightstand, Lee Do grabbed his phone.

4:26 AM.

He switched on the flashlight. The beam sliced through the room, sweeping beneath the desk, behind the chair, and across the wardrobe. Nothing out of the ordinary caught the light.

"……Did I mishear it?"

Just as he was about to set the phone back down—

Click.

Over by the desk.

Without lowering the phone, Lee Do swung the flashlight beam straight toward the desk. The circle of light locked onto a single spot.

"What the..."

Right in the center of his desk.

A lighter sat resting on the wood.

The exact same transparent lighter he had thrown away.

Lee Do rose from the bed. He didn't approach it immediately. Instead, he kept his distance, keeping the beam of his phone trained on the object. His eyes weren't playing tricks on him. It was the exact same lighter.

"No..."

He had thrown it away. He had walked all the way out to the bulk waste bins with his own two feet. He had tossed it in while showing it live on stream.

"……What the fuck?"

Could it just be the same brand? An identical lighter?

An absurd, desperate thought crossed his mind. Lee Do slowly closed the distance to the desk. The lighter came into sharp focus.

Inside the plastic casing: a black handprint.

One.

It was the very same object.

Lee Do stood frozen in place, unable to move a muscle. He had personally watched it tumble into the waste bin. He had returned upstairs immediately after. If someone had brought it in, it would have had to happen while he was asleep.

Did Ha-eun watch the stream and pull a prank on him? The location where he tossed the lighter had been broadcast, after all. Yet even that made zero sense. He hadn't heard a single footstep, not a breath, not the faint creak of his bedroom door. And yet, the lighter had returned.

"Ha..."

He couldn't even summon a dry laugh.

"This... this isn't right."

He reached his hand out toward the lighter. Then he hesitated.

Did he really need to touch it?

Beside the black handprint, in the empty, clear plastic right next to it, a single black dot appeared. Like a drop of India ink bleeding into water, the dark speck slowly spread.

Lee Do pulled his hand back, watching in paralyzed horror as the stain expanded. The dot began to take shape. A slender line. Then another. And another. Five. Fingers. And then a palm.

Right next to the first handprint... a second handprint formed.

Lee Do couldn't even draw a breath.

Click.

The lighter ignited on its own.

A small flame flared up in the pitch darkness. Lee Do recoiled by instinct, stumbling backward.

"Fuck!"

The flame didn't waver. It simply burned in eerie stillness. In the dark bedroom, untouched by human hands.

And illuminated by the firelight on the desk, the lighter cast a long shadow across the wall. Lee Do stared at the shadow. The lighter was tiny. Smaller than the palm of a hand.

Yet the shadow stretching across the wall was the size of a grown person.

Lee Do flicked the flashlight beam back and forth between the lighter and the wall.

At the top of the shadow, the shape resembling a head slowly turned toward him.

Click.

The flame went out.

Darkness swallowed the room once more.