The Third Ghost Story - Red Tissue or Blue Tissue? (Part 2)

Walking down the hallway, they arrived at the first-floor boys' restroom. It was empty for now.

Red tissue, blue tissue... It's kinda nagging at me. He glanced at the fourth stall, but nothing seemed off. Standing at the urinal to do his business, a hurried pattering from the hallway hit his ears, followed by the restroom door slamming open. A rough-looking male student burst in and dashed straight into the fourth stall.

I just heard that ghost story, and you're going right in there?

A loud prrrt echoed, accompanied by the guy's relieved sigh. Lee Joon zipped up and headed to the sink to wash his hands when a faint woman's voice suddenly whispered.

Silence flooded the restroom. Looking around for the source, the voice came again.

Stripping away the creepy line and the unclear origin, the voice itself was beautiful—soft and hazy, like a kindergarten teacher cooing to little kids. The guy in the fourth stall must have heard it too; unlike the earlier racket, he went noticeably quiet.

After a moment of mutual silence, the guy spoke up.

"Hey, cut the crap."

Provocative tone. Was he talking to Lee Joon?

Makes sense. Just him and me in here.

No way to mistake it. Staring at the closed fourth stall door, Lee Joon shot back.

"Wasn't me."

Silence again. Then, shortly after.

The gentle, babying tone a woman uses for toddlers. The guy growled low at Lee Joon again.

"Hey, I said cut the fucking crap."

His voice was deep and intimidating. From the quick glimpse earlier, this dude was probably one of the top dogs—delinquent boss type.

"I said it wasn't me."

But Lee Joon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was a high school "3+1" year vet, battle-hardened. Fresh off butting heads with Gyeong-won, getting bossed around by some punk three years younger pissed him off. He snapped back.

"Then what? Who else is here besides you?"

"Fuck if I know. Wasn't me, so back off."

Silence once more. Quiet restroom. Lee Joon could just leave the idiot and bounce, but curiosity about this ridiculous phenomenon's ending won out.

Soon, rustling from the fourth stall.

"Ah, fuck."

The guy muttered a curse and sighed.

"Sigh... Sorry, man, but can you pass some tissue from the next stall?"

"Yeah, hold on."

Kindly opening the next stall door—empty, no tissue. Same for the others. First week after long break, no cleaning duty yet maybe. Tool closet had just bleach and mop, no tissue anywhere.

"Hey, no tissue in the other stalls either."

Instantly, the soft woman's voice returned.

"Fuck, you fucking kidding me!"

The guy yelled.

"Cut the shit and get me tissue! Been playing along, you lost your mind?"

His shout echoed off the quiet tiles. Feeling wronged, Lee Joon fired back.

"There really isn't any! And can't you tell voices? It's a woman's voice!"

"Fuck, then who else is here besides you?!"

"Fuck off, you little shit, don't curse at me, fucker."

"Little shit? You crazy?"

"What! I said it wasn't me!"

"Quit bullshitting! Who else is here if not you?!"

"You fucker, perfect catch first week of school—stay right there!"

Fury boiled over; the guy yanked up his pants without wiping and lunged. Getting caught meant a beating at best, filth at worst—Lee Joon bolted for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the door. Just then.

"What's this, you boys! Why are you fighting in the restroom?!"

A pretty teacher in her thirties flung open the boys' restroom door. He'd seen her before—the one from the entrance ceremony who tried dragging him out of class, but took him to the nurse's office after his anemia excuse.

The guy in the fourth stall, in fan merch, stormed out fuming, saw her, and ducked back in.

"What's going on?"

The teacher eyed Lee Joon interrogatingly.

"Uh, well..." He explained the restroom events, skipping the ghost part. She looked exasperated.

"What? You two pulling a skit?"

Nothing to say. More childish than the outdated ghost story.

"Seventeen-year-olds yelling over that? One mid-piss too. Jesus..."

"Sorry."

"No tissue? Just ask the teacher! How many times do I gotta offer? Just pick one—why fight?!"

"Huh?"

"Teacher asks red or blue tissue so many times—red tissue blue tissue~? Why no answer?!"

Finishing, she bent low, crawled on all fours, and impossibly scaled the stall partition taller than Lee Joon.

"Asked red or blue tissue why no answer no tissue then red makes you bleed red blue chokes you blue all over~"

"Gaaah! Fuuuuck!"

Screams and crashing from the fourth stall; the door flew open. The arguing guy, shit-smeared, slipped on tiles, flailing. Behind, the teacher—hair wild like a ghost—grabbed his ankle, kicking to keep him down.

"White tissue! White tissue please!"

Lee Joon yelled desperately. She froze.

"...White tissue?"

"Yes! White tissue!"

She released him, stood gracefully, swept her hair elegantly, crossed her arms, and eyed him.

"White tissue, huh? You're a naughty one."

Meanwhile, the guy crawled behind Lee Joon, panting.

"Well, teenage boys..."

"You really want white tissue?"

She swayed her hips, sauntering closer.

"Th-that's..."

"Wanna experience white tissue~?"

Her soft voice echoed dreamily. Creepy line aside, beautiful—like a kindergarten teacher cooing. Lee Joon froze in the sudden vibe shift. She looked normal now, no crawling ghost.

Red lips parted slowly, sticky pronunciation.

"You know what that means, right~?"

She approached; perfume hit, head spun. Face neared like for a kiss, then veered to whisper in his ear.

"Wanna get white tissue from teacher?"

"Ah, ah..." Dazed, adult allure sucking him in. About to say yes—

Screeech—slam!

Door flew open and shut; the guy bolted. Fuck... Lee Joon whipped around, dashed for the door. Glancing back before exiting, she still squinted at him.

"Uh, bye... No tissue needed."

He fled to class. A message popped up.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed in a daze. Events defying common sense piled up, and that teacher's weird behavior lingered.

What's white tissue anyway... Keeps coming back. Hope that guy made it; looked hurt.

Lost in thoughts, sixth period ended; dismissal neared. Waiting for homeroom, Seon-ah hesitantly approached.

"Um, Joon-ah."

"Yeah?"

"You look down..."

"The club plan... too hard?"

"Oh shit!"

Big trouble! Five minutes till homeroom? He scribbled furiously with a pen. Cornered, inspiration flowed.

Ghost Story Club! Research folk ghost stories to study eras... Tie it somehow.

Scrawling every adverb, padding content; finished just as Park Homeroom Teacher slid the door open. Seon-ah admired him, then scurried back.

"Great work today~"

Confirming seats, he warned against cafeteria noise and dyed-hair kids to go black by next week.

"Also, a boy slipped in the restroom at lunch, got hurt bad. Watch your step~ Bye."

As he turned to leave, Lee Joon chased.

"Teacher! Club plan."

"Good job~"

She snatched the paper unread, bolted to staffroom. Rush-hour sensitive?

Back at seat, Seon-ah sidled up.

"What'd she say?"

"Dunno. Didn't read it. Didn't list one member yet."

"Oh."

"It'll work out. Worst case, pick any club."

"Yeah..."

Seon-ah trailed off, disappointed. Weird for a ghost story club.

Scared of new people maybe.

"Hope the club happens..."

He nodded at her murmur.

"Yeah. Hang with friends, easy."

"Yes! Exactly..."

She bobbed her head, agreeing.

* * *

After school, with Gyeong-won and Seon-ah, they left class.

"What'd teacher say?"

"Not yet. Tomorrow for results."

"Hope it works."

Gyeong-won adjusted glasses, smirking.

Sudden question popped.

"Gyeong-won, know the red tissue, blue tissue ghost story?"

"Not worth answering."

Makes sense—even disinterested Lee Joon knew it.

"Ghost asks red or blue. What if white?"

"White?"

Gyeong-won blinked, sighed.

"Weird questions like last time. Newbie ideas... Kinda envy."

Lee Joon chuckled awkwardly.

"White tissue... No set answer, but guess: red drains blood red; blue chokes blue. White bleaches white."

"Bleaches?"

"Scare pale, or whatever fits."

Like red blood for red tissue, white something inside for white.

What?

Shrugged, clueless. "Seon-ah, you?"

"Dunno..."

Indeed ghost story illiterate. Split at fork; he headed home.

Previous stories killed at least once; survived first try today.

Knowing the story kept him calm, quick answer.

Prior knowledge key.

Phenomena followed ghost story rules strictly. Ignorance meant explosions, murders; knowledge solved easy.

Classic "die if you don't know" game! Like arcade Tekken, getting wrecked till learning.

Realized his ghost story ignorance.

Where to learn? No school for that. Dig books, net, ask around.

Gonna be a ghost story expert? Sigh.

Lifted head—home apartment. Walked home lost in thought.

Balcony figure.

"Mom?"

Mom on balcony, looking down. Waved happily—no reaction. Clearly seeing him, but...

Something off; hurried home.

Ghost Story Club