Ghost Story Club 32 - The Sixth Ghost Story: College Entrance Exam Banned Song (6)
“This is it, President. Luckily, YouTube still works.”
We gathered around the nutritionist's laptop in the office, watching Porinseu's video. It was a recording of their weekly Friday evening music show performance. Porinseu was dancing energetically on screen to their new song Ooh Yeah.
Pretty.
Idols were idols, no doubt. Porinseu, this girl group, was still a rookie at this point in time. But from my memories of my past life, they were destined to hit the peak of popularity in Korea's music scene in less than a year. True to the trend of girl groups getting younger and younger, Porinseu even had middle schoolers our age or younger. An idol group where everyone except the leader was a teenager. Knowing that these pretty girls, who seemed to live in another world, went through the same brutal exam system as us gave a strange sense of comfort to many Korean students.
“It's real. The choreography they're doing matches the seizure-like moves the kids at school were pulling.”
“Yeah.”
The ridiculous dance moves of those infected by the song were exactly Porinseu's new choreography. On the laptop screen, five charming girls in stage outfits flapped their arms playfully. Of course, with the sound muted.
“Nothing too unusual.”
“Right?”
Soon, the video reached the problematic chorus. A beautiful girl with flashy makeup belted it out while dancing.
I must've heard this song a million times in my past life, but this is the first time I'm seeing their faces up close.
Come to think of it, the melody itself was so annoyingly memorable from my past life that I knew it by heart, so why was I fine? Is it not the melody, but the lyrics?
The difference between the Ooh Yeah from my past life and this life's version was probably just the lyrics. I hadn't really focused on listening to this altered version. Pondering that, I stared back at the screen.
So this is the face behind that voice—gorgeous.
That part sounded so innocent and pure, but she looks pretty fierce in real life.
Thoughts like that bubbled up as I slowly recalled more. But true to form, I wasn't into idols, so there was one member I didn't recognize.
Well, even legends like Girls' Generation—grab a random person off the street and ask them to name all the members, and most couldn't get halfway.
The idol girls on the laptop pursed their lips and danced. The seven of us from the Ghost Story Club watched intently, hoping for some clue. It was a hilarious sight—guys and girls of all ages huddled together scrutinizing a girl group video like this—but everyone was dead serious.
“Without sound... it kinda feels scary...”
Seon-ah muttered. I agreed. Especially one girl singing the incomprehensible chorus lyrics. With the music, it looked like an upbeat dance shaking her body wildly. But silently, it seemed like a corpse twitching its joints in grotesque motions.
Something nagged at me, though.
“...Hey, there's one thing that's bugging me.”
“What?”
“This choreography from the new song that the infected people were copying.”
“Yeah?”
“Look closely—it's backwards, right?”
“Hm... you think?”
The members tilted their heads.
“Teacher, could you rewind to the start, please?”
“Sure.”
The teacher moved the mouse and restarted the video from the beginning. We focused again.
“You're right. The infected kept doing this motion like lifting something up repeatedly, but the original members' choreo is actually bringing both hands down from above.”
“Yeah...”
We watched for a while longer like that.
“Whew, no clue.”
Jin-hee stretched first and got up.
“Tsumarana-i.”
Deok-hoon shook his head and plopped into a chair behind us.
Seon-ah rubbed her eyes, probably sore from staring, and Gyeong-won took off his glasses to wipe them with a cloth.
“Sigh... okay. The choreo's backwards. Nothing else comes to mind? Let's check other stuff.”
The teacher clicked on another Porinseu performance, but it was the same. Just different venues, the five members repeating the song and dance identically. No leads, and everyone was getting tired.
That's when I noticed one member's lip movements seemed out of sync with the others midway through the song.
What the...?
She looked like the youngest, maknae member, but her lip sync was subtly off from the rest.
Should be a group chorus part.
The moment I zeroed in on her lips to check.
Lip Reading
I startled and checked the other members' lips.
The other members were mouthing the original lyrics as usual. But this maknae kept pleading something intermittently while singing.
Clatter, clatter. Deok-hoon grabbed more meat on a tray from behind and started eating again.
“Deok-hoon, grab some for the teacher too?”
The teacher, peering at the monitor with me, called out. She seemed to have quite the appetite.
* * *
Time flew to 3 p.m. Everyone was exhausted from video-watching; only the teacher and I remained glued to the laptop. Gyeong-won dozed in the corner with arms crossed. The teacher was just sitting there reluctantly because of my intense focus—really, I was the only one who hadn't given up.
“Joon-ah, just take the laptop. Teacher needs a break.”
“Ah, yes. One last thing—find the most recent video, please.”
“Sigh, okay. Here.”
The teacher clicked the latest official video: a member greeting from this morning.
A short clip asking for viewers ahead of their 6 p.m. live stage. I focused on the maknae's lips.
She was definitely pleading something. What? Help with what?
Dressing room!
The video ended as the members greeted and entered the building.
Which building?
It wasn't shown. Probably one at the broadcasting station for tonight's live stage. But a huge station like that has multiple owned buildings, and tons of dressing rooms. I needed to confirm which one they entered.
I rewound from the start. Against a street backdrop, the door of their large van—aka celebrity car—opened. The camera caught the members stepping out. They lined up, bowed to fans with their chant. After a quick plea to join their evening live stage, they headed to the building. Unfortunately, it cut off just before showing it, focusing on their backs.
What building?
I played it slowly again. Large van. Porinseu stepping out. The moment they bowed to fans.
There! That's the building.
The van's tinted window reflected it clearly: a massive dome-shaped building. I memorized it.
Inside that dome, in a dressing room, the members would be until evening.
“Everyone, focus for a sec?”
I called to the dozing members.
* * *
“Figured something out, President?”
Everyone sat around the office table, facing me. I stood at the head—aka the 'presidential' end—and began explaining.
“As you all know, this supernatural phenomenon is caused by Porinseu's new song. Repeat it enough, and it sticks in your head, eventually overtaking you and driving you mad.”
Everyone nodded. Common knowledge so far.
“But before digging deeper into the song, I have one question for Gyeong-won.”
“Hm?”
“Any ghost stories about possessed people involving backwards actions?”
“Backwards?”
Gyeong-won tilted his head. “Possessed by ghosts? Related to this phenomenon?”
“Probably.”
Not my idea, of course. Earlier, when Ha-yoon slapped the teacher's cheek, the system message said Ha-yoon had repelled a 'possessed person'. But what ghost story was possessed person? I got points for accidentally beating it, but I had no clue.
I'm a total newbie to ghost stories.
But the possessed teacher kept looking back while talking, walking backwards in. And the song-infected doing the choreo backwards. Definitely connected.
“Hm, President. Describe the ghost story you want. Exactly what 'backwards'?”
Gyeong-won adjusted his glasses. I wasn't even sure myself, but recalled the teacher's actions.
“Well... walking backwards, talking while facing behind, stuff like that.”
“Backwards? Hm...”
“Anything ring a bell?”
“Ghosts... backwards... hm.”
Gyeong-won thought, then his glasses glinted as something clicked.
“President, were you thinking of the keyword 'upside down'?”
“Upside down?”
He nodded, adjusting his glasses. “If upside down, one comes to mind. Listen.”
* * *
A couple went to a fortune teller. The shaman read the woman's fortune seriously, but skimped on the man's, even returning the fee on the way out, saying no charge.
The couple found it suspicious but went home. On the way, an accident killed the man.
After the funeral, the woman returned, suspicious of the shaman's attitude.
“Um, we came last time... I have a question...”
The shaman cut her off: “Funeral go well?”
“H-how did you...”
“The money I returned was for your boyfriend's road to the afterlife.”
“You knew beforehand? That he'd...”
“Yes. To shamans like us, those about to die and become ghosts look different. When you two entered...”
“Your boyfriend came in cartwheeling on his hands.”
“...That's the end. Ring any bells, President?”
I pondered.
“Any others?”
“A few more about ghosts acting upside down—like cartwheeling or clapping with the backs of their hands.”
Ghosts. Upside down. These could be key to solving this.
I etched the words in my mind and asked Gyeong-won again.
“If they're all possessed by the song, why didn't others act upside down like the teacher?”
“Actually, some did.”
The teacher put a finger to her lips, recalling. “A few teachers in the staff room tried walking on their hands.”
“Uum, that kid in our class who freaked first, right? Swung a sharp backwards over his shoulder-nung.”
Deok-hoon wiggled his chin recalling. Right, now I remembered. That edgy kid facing off the class rep early on—he'd swung the sharp backwards oddly.
I voiced the question.
“But others? Not everyone acted upside down. Some just spread the song normally on their phones.”
“Hm... too much of a leap.”
Gyeong-won tilted his head. “Whether upside down really connects to this...”
“It has to.”
I stated firmly. “Let's conclude for now: possessed by the song means acting upside down somehow. Start from there.”
This phenomenon defies normal logic. Even if a stretch, any clue must be woven into reasoning.
“Anyone got ideas?”
No one did, just shakes of heads. I muttered to organize thoughts.
“Song possession means upside down somehow. But some students seemed normally berserk, not upside down. No exceptions allowed if we're concluding that. So...”
“Those looked normal but were actually doing something upside down?”
I muttered questioningly; members tilted heads.
“What upside down? What?”
Everyone pondered. Then Jin-hee blurted.
“Song lyrics?”
“What?”
We all stared; Jin-hee coolly repeated.
“The lyrics. They're weird as fuck.”
“Hm, true.”
Gyeong-won nodded. “Those bizarre lyrics—I searched while waiting. Not even a foreign language, President.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Tons of posts online asking what they are. Maybe something hidden?”
I quickly directed the teacher.
“Teacher, search the lyrics now and write the chorus on paper.”
“Uh? Oh, got it.”
She startled at my order but sat at the laptop, scribbling on paper amid the mood. Using a much older teacher like this... no guilt, but a weird feeling.
“Here.”
She placed the paper center table for all to see.
[All together Porinseu Ooh Yeah O-I-O-U-E-S-H-I-E-A-Tum E-Tum-Ka-Dae-Beu Ri-Si-Jed Ni-Beo-Meo-Zu Ooh-Ji]
The full weird chorus lyrics. Everyone read, but just puzzled faces.
“Read it backwards?”
“Ji-Woo... Meo-Beu... Ni-Deu-Je... Si-Ri... Beu-Dae-Ka-Teum-E...”
“Even backwards, doesn't make sense-nung.”
Seon-ah murmured; Deok-hoon grumbled.
“But something's here. Past life, no such lyrics existed.”
I groaned, racking my brain. “Song... backwards...”
Gyeong-won muttered, then clapped.
“Ah! Wait! President, no way...!”
“What? Spill.”
Everyone looked.
“Too many song ghost stories, missed it. But it exists.”
“What?”
“Backward masking. Listen yourself. Easier to understand.”
“Back? What?”
Amid confusion, Gyeong-won pulled his phone, opened a music app, searched, and played.
“H-hey... not the cursed song, right-nung?”
Deok-hoon plugged ears preemptively; Gyeong-won shook head.
“Nah, old song. Some rock guy's chorus. Listen, then I'll explain.”
Why wait for others to shift, hearts frozen in wait?
“Heard it?”
Gyeong-won asked; reluctant nods.
“Oh, Seo Taiji! Nostalgic~”
“...Seo Taiji? First time.”
“Seo Taiji? From when—”
“Quiet!”
Only the 30-something teacher knew it.
“Heh.”
Gyeong-won chuckled, fiddled with the app.
“Now, backwards.”
He reversed playback.
Blood-starved, famished ache—if no child given, no fun, know it.
“Kyaaah! Ah ah ah—!”
The teacher jumped, screaming.
“Ah, fuck! Scared me!”
“You startled us, teach!”
“Thought my ears fell off, crazy.”
We were more shocked by her scream than the song. The pretty 34-year-old teacher smiled apologetically, embarrassed.
“S-sorry, kids... got spooked.”
“Whew.”
Eyes back on Gyeong-won.
“What was that?”
“Called backward masking.”
He gleamed through glasses. “Technique hiding messages that only sound normal when played backwards in the song.”
“No way.”
“Seo Taiji's was coincidental, but modern like Big Bang's Don't Love Me uses it to hide messages.”
“Got it.”
“Porinseu's Ooh Yeah incomprehensible chorus—maybe same technique.”
“Same!”
“Yeah. Not just reading backwards—reverse the audio itself, hidden words might emerge.”
Nods mixed with uneasy glances.
“But to check, we'd play the song? Even reversed, risky.”
“No need to reverse.”
At my point, he confidently snatched the teacher's lyric paper, scribbled rapidly.
“International Phonetic Alphabet. Transcribe sounds as letters.”
“IPA?”
“Originally for foreigners to read Korean phonetically easy.”
Members nodded mechanically, lost.
I added, “So, write pronunciation as alphabet?”
“Yes. 'Annyeong' for 안녕.”
“Ah.”
Like subway signs: Seoul, Sillim.
“Transcribing chorus phonetically. See.”
oyoessioeyhtum etimkadab lisigeadnoebmas oej.
“Now, reverse from end. Reveals backward sound without audio.”
“Clever.”
He reversed the letters.
jeo sambeondaegisil badakmite muthyeoisseoyo.
“Read this backwards. Ow, my wrist—rushed too much.”
Gyeong-won flexed his wrist. Nearby Seon-ah peered.
“Jeo... sam... beon... dae...”
She stammered English.
“Hm. Slash syllables.”
I grabbed a pen, slashed units.
jeo / sam / beon / dae / gi / sil / ba / dak / mit / e / mut / hyeo / is / seo / yo
저/삼/번/대/기/실/바/닥/밑/에/묻/혀/있/어/요
"I'm buried alive under the floor of Room 3."
Ghost Story Club