The Seventh Ghost Story - Psychopath Test (4)

After getting stabbed in the stomach by the psycho and regressing back to the moment I was dreaming, I woke up a full seven minutes earlier than before thanks to jumping off the rooftop.

2 a.m. Seven minutes earlier. Instead of thinking, I kicked off the bed in one motion and bolted out of my room. The house was dark, with only moonlight softly illuminating the living room.

'Not here?'

I listened carefully for any signs of life, but the house was dead silent. Had the intruder not broken in yet?

I hurriedly checked the front door. It was closed but not locked. Someone in the family must have half-latched it by mistake when coming home late, leaving the door lock partially open.

And moments later.

A presence right outside the door.

Swoosh—

I quickly yanked the door handle and locked it.

At the same time, someone outside twisted the doorknob.

Click. Click.

Blocked it. I'd stopped the bastard from getting in. Locked the door just in the nick of time before he could break in.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Just as I was about to sigh in relief, a knocking sound came from the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

What now? Even if it was a psycho conjured by a ghost story... this door was securely locked with modern tech. No way he could pick it.

This place was safe.

'In that case.'

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I lowered my voice quietly so as not to wake my parents and responded to gauge his reaction.

"Who's there?"

A neutral voice replied.

"Just a passerby. I really gotta use the bathroom—mind if I do?"

"It's 2 a.m.?"

"Yeah."

"How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad."

"Big or small?"

"Both."

"Gotta pay to use our bathroom."

"Oh, really? How much—"

I'd caught on. I flinched involuntarily.

Thud. Thud.

The sound of him walking away from the door echoed.

Caught, so he was leaving?

'But this fucking asshole.'

I opened the front door. The guy, midway down the hall, flinched and turned back.

"Hey, you pussy."

"Leaving already? What a chickenshit."

The intruder strode back toward our house.

"Yeah, fuck off~"

I slammed the door shut quick.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He knocked again.

"What?"

No response from the bastard.

Moments later.

Thud. Thud.

The sound of him walking away again. I timed it and flung the door open.

"Thought you were gone, you tiny-dick fuck."

The intruder had hidden right next to the door, barefoot after taking off his shoes. He'd pretended to leave with shoe sounds, then snuck back silently and lunged with a knife the moment I opened it.

I dodged back just as fast.

The knife slashed through the door gap but couldn't extend further, the intruder's hand flailing.

"Knew you'd try that—put the safety chain on, dumbass."

"You... you fucker."

The sock-footed intruder.

"I'll kill you!"

"Keep it down, fuckhead. Wake my parents and I call the cops right away."

The masked guy glared coldly.

"Safety chain... you relying on that? Takes less than a second to pop."

He snatched a magnetic booklet from in front of the door and jammed it into the chain gap to release it.

Click, click!

"Double safety chain."

"Saw on TV they're useless these days, so I doubled up."

"Oh, I see..."

The barbaric coat and masked intruder stood there dumbly for a moment, glared once more, then turned and left.

Thud. Thud.

"Leaving? Already?"

"Chickenshit. Caught, so he bolts."

Thud. Thud.

"Cut your losses, asshole... he's really going?"

This time for real.

'You think I'll let you go easy, fucker?'

A psycho who breaks into homes and kills indiscriminately. The bastard who butchered my parents and stabbed me—I wasn't letting him off.

But a straight one-on-one? I'd probably lose. He had a weapon and no hesitation about stabbing people. Logically, call the cops instead of engaging.

But... his appearance tonight wasn't coincidence.

'Psychopath Test.'

C-grade ghost story collected via the club's upgraded ghost story collection ability. He was definitely from that.

So no need for a brute weapon fight—maybe I could screw him over by turning the ghost story against him.

For that, I needed the exact details of this ghost story. All I'd done was a fragmented psych test. I still didn't know the core content.

'...Gyeong-won!'

Oh yeah, I'd sent An Gyeong-won the psychopath test sheet, but fell asleep before his reply.

I quickly opened my phone—sure enough, messages from him while I slept.

I checked An Gyeong-won's KakaoTalk.

Not a test to detect psychopaths? What?

I pondered as I read on.

This was a test made by a psychopath.

Summary of this C-grade ghost story, Psychopath Test: Something like...

"Whew."

If that's the structure, my job was clear: Answer like a psycho.

Then the story twists like:

...Something like that.

By answering oppositely, I could shift from victim to equal footing. Even with my cunning, I'd been subtly dragged along—probably because the story positioned me as the victim. Ghost stories twist perceptions, situations, even reality.

'...Alright. Let's try it.'

I rushed to the bathroom and faced the mirror in the dark.

"The mirror's dirty. It's the mirror's fault."

I answered like a vow to myself.

Thump.

Something... I felt something. My chest had been tense from the scuffle, but answering psych-style calmed my mind.

'Next. What was next?'

I hurried to the balcony, opened the window, and looked down.

Slide—

Sure enough, the intruder from before stared up, unwilling to leave just yet.

Our eyes met; he pointed at me threateningly.

"He's counting my floor."

Muttering that, I felt it again in my chest. My thinking was shifting.

I dashed to the kitchen.

"I'm hungry."

I yanked open the fridge, grabbed a slice of cheese Dad bought for drinking snacks, and shoved it in my mouth.

Fear was gone now. Only revenge filled my head.

By hijacking the ghost story, the psycho's mindset was slowly assimilating into my brain. Only a psycho would answer like that.

"Hoo."

Dark, sinister thoughts swirled: how to fuck that bastard up good.

But I desperately clung to myself, swallowed the cheese, reminding myself of my goal.

Then I flung open the front door, hit the elevator, rode to the top floor, and dashed up to the rooftop.

Click—

I shoved aside cleaning supplies and unlocked the rooftop door.

Rushed to the edge with the best view.

Psycho answer was animal or human. Animal's too random—human it is.

"A woman. A woman passed by."

Muttering alone on the dark rooftop, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I turned.

In Ha-yoon stood there.

"Hey, Joon."

Even assimilated into the ghost story, my thinking far from normal, I was too shocked to speak.

"Why are you..."

My mouth hung open. In Ha-yoon, bathed in moonlight, smiled casually and approached.

"Pretty high up here, huh."

"...What."

"Whoa."

She craned her slender neck perilously over the edge. Stray black hairs fluttered by her elegant neckline.

"Look. It's the teacher."

"Tea...cher?"

I sidled up beside her and peered down. Much higher than from home, but the barbaric coat guy was visible, tiny, pacing.

"The teacher?"

"Yeah. Didn't know?"

I didn't. One way to check.

"...Status Window."

I muttered at the distant figure below.

Flash—

Again. The teacher again. Again!

"Possession? You teach fast, fuck! Should've known sooner!"

I shrieked hysterically. In Ha-yoon stared blankly.

"Damn, what the... Hoo, hoo."

Breathing ragged with irritation. She giggled playfully beside me.

"Hang in there~"

Her long lashes fluttered with a smile. A mysterious classmate bathed in moonlight on the apartment rooftop. Unreal.

"But... why are you suddenly here...?"

Instead of answering, she just giggled.

"Annoying, right?"

"Huh?"

"The teacher."

Unlike her usual restrained demeanor, she laughed gleefully in the moonlight.

"He killed your parents. Not pissed?"

"How do you..."

"Fuck him up. Till you're satisfied."

Crude words she'd never say normally. But the thrill stoked my desires.

Parents slaughtered for fun by a madman. Toying with him seemed morally fine.

In Ha-yoon cackled maniacally at my reddening face.

"Make him shit and piss himself, Joon. So he can't possess and pull shit again."

"...Wait, just a sec."

"Beat the teacher bloody so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he can't bullshit anymore, Joon!"

"Sh-shut up! Wait, just wait a sec... Hah, hah."

I barely clamped her mouth. Every crude word made my head spin. Blood boiling.

How to toy with the teacher. Imagining it, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my hands shook with excitement—too much fun.

But I shook my head desperately.

"Wait. Just wait... hold on... Already shifting psycho-style from reverse-answering, her egging me on felt dangerously irreversible.

"You... shut up, just for a bit..."

"Something bugging you? Just rewind time."

"Then it's fine. Rewind and it's gone. So do it all, Joon. Ahaha."

Now cackling with knees slapping.

"Kill annoying people. Someone pisses you off? Fuck 'em up. Stab, hit, vent as you like. Blow off steam. Everywhere, wildly! Rewind and poof—gone!"

"Saving the world? Hero like you deserves fun! Ahaha. No victims! Go blow your teenage urges! Till you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠go insane—"

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!"

Dark rooftop. Her spewing filth in moonlight was more mystical, beautiful than ever.

"What are you? Who?"

She just laughed.

"Status Window."

No response.

"Status Window!"

"Ahaha. Joon, Joon."

No response. Illusion, as expected. Like Seon-ah earlier was my subconscious dream, this In Ha-yoon was the ghost story's fabrication.

Answering "woman" conjured In Ha-yoon, closest to feminine in my mind, manifesting real.

"Fuck off."

"Joon, Joon. Ahaha."

"Fuck off!"

Face flushed with laughter. I left her on the rooftop and hurried home.