Episode 13: The Fourth Ghost Story - Mom (1)
I stepped out of the elevator and stood in front of our apartment door. Just as I reached to lift the keypad on the door lock to punch in the code, something felt off.
It's too quiet.
I gently lowered the keypad and pressed my ear to the door. If someone was home, there'd be some kind of living noise. TV sounds, vacuum cleaner, doors opening and closing. At the very least, footsteps. But nothing from inside. Just the cold touch of the door against my ear.
I plugged my other ear and listened again. Still nothing. Just that empty, hollow static that screams no one's home.
No way. I just saw Mom...
Shaking off the unease, I quickly entered the code and yanked the handle.
Screeech—
"I'm home~"
"Mom?"
I tossed my bag aside and headed to the front veranda where I'd seen her earlier. No one there.
"Mom?"
I strode to the master bedroom and flung open the door. Empty. Next, the bathroom right beside it—I flicked on the light.
Click.
I even peeked in the tub, just in case. Nothing. So quiet. I checked Dad's study, every corner of the house, even my own room last, then returned to the living room.
Silence. Dead quiet.
No, that's impossible. Mom was definitely on the veranda just now.
We couldn't have crossed paths in that short time. She had to be inside.
The veranda.
I started toward it again but froze at the ominous vibe. Someone had been there, but now the house was eerily still. Where did Mom go? Was I alone? Or not?
Bright daylight pouring in, yet the place felt choked with dread. A chill crawled up my spine; I glanced back slowly. Nothing.
I forced my feet toward the veranda and stood exactly where Mom had been. Looking down, I saw the sidewalk leading to the apartment entrance.
I looked up from about there earlier.
Not far at all. No way I imagined it.
I stood there a moment, turned to leave—and something caught my eye. The washing machine. Ours, at the far end of the veranda. Its lid was closed. Mom always leaves it open to air out the dampness. Why was it shut now?
Dread filled my spine. I approached slowly.
Mom, I wanted to call out. But breaking this silence felt like it'd unleash something horrific. I swallowed hard, crept up silently, and stood before it. Then slowly lifted the lid.
Mom crouched inside, staring up at me blankly.
I gasped and stumbled back, breathing ragged. As I retreated, the angle hid her, but the corner of a head still peeked from the machine's edge.
"Gasp, huff."
Eyes locked on it, I backed away inch by inch. If I looked away, it'd scream and lunge any second.
"Gasp, huff."
One step, two—slowly off the veranda. Still backing, I rounded the corner to the living room. The machine finally vanished behind the wall.
Halfway across the living room, still retreating—a head poked from the veranda corner.
"Welcome home from school?"
It was Mom, just her head around the corner, voice flat.
"Gasp, huff..."
My heart lurched. No. Not Mom. No human head juts out at a perfect 90 degrees from a wall like that. That'd require twisting the body grotesquely.
"Huff, huff..."
I didn't answer, just slowly turned toward the front door. Couldn't face that thing pretending to be her. But fully averting my eyes? It'd charge.
So I kept it in peripheral vision, sidestepping awkwardly. Finally reached the door. Reached out blindly for the lock buttons.
> [Beep-beep~]
"You little shit, just like your dad, where the fuck you crawling off to now!!!!!!!!"
It gaped its mouth wide and lunged—I kicked the door open and bolted down the stairs like a madman. Leaping four, five steps at a time, tumbling almost.
Thud, boom, thud.
I fled to the ground floor, burst through the entrance, and sprinted to the nearby shops.
"Huff, gasp, huff, huff..."
Only in the bustling shop street, amid passing people, did I stop and catch my breath.
"Fuck, insane, huff, gasp... huff... gasp... what the fuck... huff... gasp."
A passing ajumma and students glanced at me. I wiped sweat, turned, and looked up at our apartment. There she was—Mom on the veranda, staring motionless.
Moments later, she slowly lay back, scuttling on all fours toward the living room, out of sight.
Insane, fuck, insane...
I steadied my breath, exhaled long, and slumped on the shop stairs. At least I'd grabbed slippers in the chaos.
"Whoa, how'd I even..."
I chuckled at my quick thinking—not real laughter, just tension releasing in self-mocking snorts.
"Hooo."
What now?
Can't go back in. Not till evening, when both parents return. Then we go in together. Ghosts like that don't show with family around, right...?
What time is it? Status Window.
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[Wednesday, March 6, 2019, 16:22]
[Lee Joon - 2nd Round, Tutorial in Progress]
[Ghost Story Points: 15]
[Causal Rate: 6%]
A bit past 4 PM. Parents won't be back till at least 7. Over two hours to kill.
Shit, left my wallet too.
I usually keep it in my bag, which I ditched inside. All I have is my phone. Not even a won for PC bang.
Two and a half hours of what?
Phone internet on a bench would've passed time, but student data's shit without Wi-Fi.
I dusted off and headed to the playground in the complex.
* * *
Swinging idly at the playground, a neighborhood ajumma clucked her tongue and approached.
"Kid, why you here alone?"
"Can't get into my house."
"Tsk tsk tsk, you eat?"
Sunset, school uniform, slippers, bagless—looked pitiful, huh?
"No, but really, don't worry. Just can't get in."
"Can't get in? Mom kick you out or something?"
"Yeah..."
"Tsk tsk." She clucked again. "Not my place to judge parenting, but a mom chasing her kid out in slippers... sigh."
"My son's a doctor, second's a lawyer. Never laid a hand on 'em, turned out fine..."
"Uh, yeah. Bye."
Sudden brag? Thought she cared; just nosy.
Understanding of Choi Ja-ok has increased by 5.
I dodged her, wandered the neighborhood. A lap later, bored stiff.
Why am I suffering like this... Look like a runaway.
Planned cozy gaming afternoon, ruined by that Mom-thing.
"Hoo."
Slumped on a nearby bench. Parents still hours away. Broke student life sucks.
'Pitiful' reminded me of Seon-ah.
Nothing to do—KakaoTalk her?
Yesterday, during manual ghost story briefing, swapped numbers with Gyeong-won and Seon-ah. School chats only so far.
Checking numbers, casual reach-out. Natural, right?
First time messaging a girl. Nervous, but whatever. KakaoTalk's no biggie.
Heart pounding. Pulled out phone, opened KakaoTalk. Friends list: Seon-ah and Gyeong-won right at top. Pathetic few friends.
High school... wasted it.
Two friends to walk home with? Miracle. My weird loner streak—crave company but need space.
No enemies, no close buds for texts.
Hm, Gyeong-won. Profile check.
His: smug selfie, lips tight, glasses flash. Status: "Thorough preparation creates one's own luck." Scraped from net.
"...Respect."
Pretty boy potential, but know-it-all vibe limits friends to me and Seon-ah probably.
Tsked, checked Seon-ah. Default blue silhouette. Empty status. Blank slate.
Seon-ah a fellow eternal loner?
Nerves hit, but steeled myself. Cute classmate KakaoTalk time!
Hello—sent.
Bored, hit Gyeong-won too. Guys casual: Hi.
Quick reply—his.
OK. Just checking in. Study hard. Sent.
Academy fits.
Why no Seon-ah reply?
Wondered her rundown apartment life with grandma. PC? TV? What now?
20 minutes bench-waiting, phone buzzed.
Opened—Seon-ah!
Yesss!
Thrilled, fist-pumped solo. Girl replied!
Grinned checking:
Grinning at her message on bench—kids stared, schooled face.
"Ahem."
Seon-ah. Hi lol—too cute.
Typing reply, hands shook. Why so nervous? All-boys schools trauma?
Embarrassed chuckles, cringes. "Too short? Longer?"
Grinned, stomped feet giddy. Felt eyes—cheese-colored cat staring.
"What you lookin' at, punk!"
"Meow."
Back to phone, sent Seon-ah:
Five minutes like an hour—reply!
Hmm, what? Not literally—girl code?
How reply...?
Racking brain clueless. How answer that?! I'm clueless at this shit.
Wriggled happy, giggled—drool slipped out.
Playground ajumma spotted, rushed over alarmed.
"Kid! Knew something wrong? Where's guardian?"
"Auntie, go away! I'm fine!"
Nosy as hell.
Understanding of Choi Ja-ok has greatly increased to 20.
Shooed her, quick-sent:
Quick ping back:
Tap tap.
Ping:
Seon-ah mumbles IRL, but texts normal.
Makes sense? I'm opposite.
Face-to-face casual; texts make me fidgety-excited.
Then... silence. 10 minutes, no reply.
Uh, bad flow.
Meant casual chit-chat time-kill, but locked-out talk got heavy? One-note convo.
Sounded whiny.
No reply. Switch topics? Too eager?
Overthinking, agonizing.
This way... no, too... that? Nah.
Flash: vending machine hand-hold, her discomfort. (Timeline reset anyway.)
Wanna friend natural, no screw-ups.
Zero clue on girl minds.
Here like... or this.
Ugh, headache. Brain-burned. Some kids banter girls easy; why overthink?
What she thinking? How act? Endless loop, exhausted quick.
Still no reply.
Screw it, relax.
Fun at first, now stressful. System's "two-faced" trait? Puberty explained.
Crave impressing friends, fear mistakes chase 'em—end up shallow bonds.
Tired. That's why no deep friends.
Gyeong-won too—ego clash, constant proving.
No friend stays no matter what? Laughs off weakness, no judgment. Accepts me as-is.
Then chill, no worries.
Then—