Chapter 40
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: A Night Fitting for Scary Stories 1
-----------------------------------------------------------------
October 30th, Saturday. 9:23 PM.
"How've you been lately?"
A beer pub near the bustling district of Woncheon City. It wasn't quite bursting at the seams like Itaewon, but with Halloween approaching, it was several times noisier than usual.
Ibi's heart raced a bit as she took in the modest decorations—from the counter to the table props—and sat down with her friends.
It had been so long that there was a touch of awkwardness at first, but once the drinks arrived and their glasses clinked together, that faded in an instant. They started catching up on each other's lives.
For Ibi, this was a rare moment of pure relaxation. She had built something like human trust with the Ghost Bridge Society folks by now, but it still wasn't enough to let her guard down completely and just be herself.
Besides, the way she'd come to know them was worlds apart from these easygoing friends. Who knew if time would ever bridge that gap.
Just like that, a couple of hours flew by in chatter. The buzz was starting to hit, and Ibi figured it was time to head out.
But her friends held her back. After months apart, how could she leave so early?
Still, the past few weeks at the Ghost Bridge Society had changed her. Those incidents had taught her exactly how reckless actions could make problems explode.
The pumpkin decoration dangling from the ceiling seemed to stare right at her. Ibi spoke firmly to her friends.
"It's already late. If we go somewhere else now, that means clubbing, right? And that means staying out all night. I have to work tomorrow."
1:17 AM.
"Kyaa! Let's party! This is Halloween! It's the best!"
It was more than enough time to throw all her resolve out the window.
11:51 AM.
"Ughhh... Save meee..."
Ibi groaned from her bed like she'd crawled up from hell. She'd practically bathed in beer until dawn, and her skull felt like it was splitting open.
It had been ages since she'd pounded alcohol like that, so her stomach churned, threatening to empty itself any second.
She dragged herself up like a corpse, stumbled to the kitchen, and mixed a glass of honey water. That cleared her vision a bit. Rubbing her aching forehead, she thought, This is why people should stay away from booze.
Then she glanced at the clock—and bolted upright like a coiled spring, her whole body creaking in protest.
"I'm late!"
She splashed water on her face, slapped on minimal makeup, grabbed whatever from the wardrobe, and dashed to the Flower Mugwort Tea House. She looked like a high school girl rushing to meet her fated crush after school, but the reality was hilariously different.
Come to think of it, today was one of Aerin's days off. She'd told Ibi to have fun but open up on time.
Aerin always came across as gentle and warm, but Ibi knew she had a tough side underneath. So far, Ibi had done her jobs well enough to avoid real scoldings, but this might be different.
Gasping for breath, she arrived at the Flower Mugwort Tea House—and the door was already open. Puzzled, she stepped inside and saw Aerin at the counter.
Ibi bowed deeply at once.
"I'm sorry."
Aerin clicked her tongue at the sight of her but didn't look too harsh. Ibi sneaked glances, changed into her work clothes, and emerged.
"You should've paced yourself."
"Haha... It'd been so long, I just lost control... Won't happen again."
"Well, you're young. Better to have fun now."
You don't look that old yourself, Ibi thought but kept it to herself.
The mood wasn't for more nagging, so she slipped back into her routine with a bit of caution.
October 31st. Actual Halloween. There were fewer people on the streets than yesterday. Sunday or not, it wasn't empty, but the overcast sky from morning turned gloomy, thinning the crowds further.
Then a drizzle started, thickening into a downpour by evening. With autumn halfway gone, the dark clouds made everything dim fast.
Once the last customers left, only Aerin and Ibi remained. No Nati, Mina, or Haewon today.
"Kinda spooky, huh."
Ibi, wiping the big glass windows out of boredom, peered outside. The tea house felt like a tiny boat adrift in a vast ocean.
"When I was little, Mom told me Halloween was when ghosts came out. I'd hide under the covers, shaking. She was pretty mischievous, that mom of mine."
Ibi smiled faintly. It was a fond memory now, but teasing her kid about real ghosts felt a bit much.
"Not wrong, though. Your mom knew her stuff."
Something about those words, mixed with the grim vibe outside, stirred up childhood fears.
"Halloween isn't just some Western holiday, you know. Everywhere in the world, there's traditions for autumn turning to winter. We mark the start of winter too, right?"
Her reflection stared back from the dark window. Maybe it was her imagination, but she looked pale.
"Halloween comes straight from the Celts' Samhain festival—marking the end of the year and the gateway to winter. Fallen leaves bury themselves as fertilizer; animals fake death through the long cold. It's when the line between life and death blurs. South America has Day of the Dead around then too."
"So... ghosts could really come down to our world?"
"Yep. And it's perfect for blending in with crowds. With all the wild costumes, even if you spot a real ghost or monster, everyone's just like, 'Whoa, check out that getup.' Best night ever, right?"
"...You shouldn't say stuff like that."
Aerin looked surprised at Ibi's shaky voice.
"After everything you've been through, you're still scared of ghosts?"
"That's why I'm scared! Every time I tangle with those things, I nearly die! Wh-what if some were dancing with me last night?!"
Aerin pulled a pipe from her inner pocket without a word. No customers now, none coming—time for a smoke.
She grabbed a cigarette with her other hand, her tone casual.
"Want a scary story for a night like this?"
"No!"
"Halloween special: a witch tale from 16th-century England?"
"I said no!"
"Back then, England was deep in witch hunts..."
16th-century England, a rural manor.
I don't know how this story's protagonist ended up on the witch's path. But she sure wasn't planning to flaunt it and end up at the stake.
She fooled the other witches' eyes too, settling quietly in a remote village. For a witch, she seemed awfully middle-class.
She married, had a son. Simple, but comfortable life.
Then one day—the day every tale kicks off. She was bringing lunch to her husband in the fields when she found a girl who'd fallen from her horse in the woods, stranded.
The girl was the lord's daughter.
Pinned under the dead horse, both legs broken, barely clinging to life. Too much blood lost; even calling for help would've been too late.
The kindhearted witch couldn't just walk away. She used magic to save her.
The girl thanked her profusely and headed back to the lord's castle.
But then the witch panicked—realizing she'd used magic. She begged the girl to keep it secret, no reward needed.
The lord's daughter broke that promise.
Whether she confessed deliberately to her father or slipped up by accident, no one knows.
What mattered was the secret was out.
The whole witch family got dragged before the lord. Tortured harshly. The witch screamed that her family knew nothing, innocent.
But the notoriously brutal lord wouldn't hear it. Just doing his duty as a faithful church agent.
And the end?
The lord poured acid on the witch's face—her husband and little son too. Killed them all.