Eighth Ghost Story - Cursed Midterms (6)
Tuesday, April 23, 2019, 12:13
Lee Joon - 2nd Round
Ghost Story Points: 202
Causal Rate: 11%
[...,... ♬... .]
Afternoon in the club room. The bell rings out.
"Here, quick."
In Ha-yoon finally extends her slender hand and takes my phone. She holds it still to her ear and answers calmly.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice comes through, leaving the science teacher momentarily silent.
"Yeah."
"Yes. Who's this?"
Ha-yoon lowers her voice slightly, impersonating me with a faint drawl.
A puzzled silence lingers on the other end before the question comes.
"He realized the seagull meat he ate on the deserted island was actually his wife's flesh."
She answers calmly with the exact response I'd given her, unflinching. Silence explodes over the line.
I give Ha-yoon her next order.
"Ask why he's trying to kill me, in one single sentence."
The science teacher had given a weird answer to the initial "What's the reason?" Maybe because I phrased it in pieces?
Ha-yoon looks at me steadily.
What're you waiting for? Get on with it.
I tilt my chin up, urging her to ask what needs asking. She finally leans into the phone again, voice even.
"Tell me the reason you're trying to kill Lee Joon."
The man on the other end gasps in shock. Crash—thud—something noisy erupts.
The teacher's ragged breaths—he's sprinting somewhere. I signal again.
Count it down.
Ha-yoon nods.
"Five. Four. Three..."
She counts each number precisely, like an announcer.
"Two. One..."
What the fuck.
Ba fflement hangs in the club room.
Is this guy retarded?
We stare at each other, dumbfounded. Someone explain this shit. But no one has a clue what the hell's going on. Ha-yoon just furrows her brow slightly, gripping the phone.
The next question flies in.
Our turn now!
What? Egoism fast becomes Lee Joon, so he tried to kill me?
That retarded shit counts as the right answer?
Ha-yoon glances at me, unsure how to respond. But I stay silent.
"...Problem-plagued. The answer's Lee Joon. You're problem-plagued, so you tried to kill him."
Ha-yoon takes a wild stab anyway. But.
Ha-yoon's ever-calm face twists as she clutches her chest.
"Ugh... urk... eurk."
She convulses, eyes rolling back. Foam bubbles at her mouth, and she slams her head on the desk.
Thud.
She collapses.
"Ha, Ha-yoon!"
Gyeong-won and Seon-ah grab her shoulders, shaking her. Jin-hee and Deok-hoon leap up, faces shocked.
The science teacher's desperate shout echoes from the phone, mixed with murmuring voices.
"You piece of shit!"
Gyeong-won snatches the phone from Ha-yoon's limp hand and yells.
"Who the fuck are you! What are you!"
Our turn to ask, huh. I watch Gyeong-won sweat bullets holding the phone, and something clicks.
...No way.
A spark in my mind. The seagull ghost story, aka the sea turtle soup riddle.
Is this even a normal quiz? Regular quiz questions from common knowledge have unambiguous Q&A. Even radio fillers use clear answers like book authors or song titles—no room for interpretation.
But this sea turtle soup one? It's different. If categorized, what would you call it? Logic puzzle? IQ test?
To my "What's the reason (EU)?", he said European Union. For why kill Lee Joon? Egoism.
Fuck. I grab the whiteboard and scribble fast while Gyeong-won sweats over the phone.
Nonsense quiz.
The club members flinch.
About damn time we figured it out, you idiots...
The science teacher wasn't desperately pleading to hide his true intent. He was squeezing out nonsense answers on the fly.
Golden Bell sticks to general knowledge. Midterms to first-semester material. Korean test? Korean problems. Science? Science.
This ghost story started with sea turtle soup, so it's a nonsense Q&A game.
Gyeong-won nods like he gets it but tears at his hair—no ideas coming. He bites his lip and asks into the phone.
"Why'd he freak out playing rock-paper-scissors in the mirror?"
Looks like the science teacher ran to allies who get this weird shit and can help—hence the panting.
The teachers yell in panic. Whoever they are, some staff are in on it with him. A faction in this school plotting to kill me!
"Five! Four! Three! Two!"
The science teacher screams it out, and the next question hits right after.
Lives by scamming others! Con artist? But the countdown's already blaring.
Gyeong-won's face drains pale as he looks to me. I'm sweating too, staring back helpless.
Suddenly Seon-ah shouts into the phone instead.
"Someone who scams others! Masseuse!"
"Urk!"
Gyeong-won clutches his chest and drops.
Thud.
We said the right answer—why?!
In the chaos, I start grasping the rules. It's a relay-style game, one-on-one between teams. Someone else shouting it doesn't count—the phone holder has to say it themselves.
With Ha-yoon and now Gyeong-won down, we're in uproar. Seon-ah snatches the phone quick.
They notice someone grabbed it—their side goes quiet. We wait, but nothing. Looks like Gyeong-won's death bounced the turn back to us.
I rack my brain fast and nod at Seon-ah to ask. She nods back and yells.
"Wh-what money does grandpa like?"
Noise erupts again—frantic debating. I shout to Jin-hee and Deok-hoon.
"Jin-hee! Deok-hoon! Get to the staff room now and ID these fuckers!"
Deok-hoon bolts up shocked; Jin-hee bites her lip hard.
"Everyone with the science teacher right now! They're all in on it! Find out who!"
"Got it!"
Deok-hoon and Jin-hee dash out. I'd planned to probe their motives with questions, but nonsense rules mean no real answers. Still, the faction trying to kill me—including science teacher—we need faces before they drop. Nab 'em all now!
"Five... four... three..."
Seon-ah chants the count. Desperate teacher yells blast from the phone.
"Two... one..."
The science teacher shouts desperately.
"...Correct."
"Minimum wage king. What's the world's hottest phone...?"
Seon-ah fires back without hesitation; teachers scream at the incoming quiz.
Then Deok-hoon's video call hits Gyeong-won's phone.
Ah, world's hottest phone... video call. Got it.
I grab Gyeong-won's phone instead.
"Thanks, Deok-hoon!"
The screen shows teachers huddled at the broadcasting station entrance. I stare at Gyeong-won's high-res screen, memorizing every face.
"Five... four... three..."
"Two... one......"
"Time over."
Thud. A groan, then the science teacher finally collapses over the line.
Deok-hoon's video shows panicked teachers milling at the broadcasting room door.
Murmurs. Not all allies—some question the fuss, others hush it up.
Who's friend, who's foe!
I desperately scan the cramped video feed.
Someone new grabs Seon-ah's phone, tossing a question instead of science teacher.
"Japanese guy. What high school is Dooly attending?"
Seon-ah snaps back machine-like, instant counter-question. The teacher blanks—didn't expect it—then yells desperately.
"Five... four... three... two... one... time over."
Thud. Another foe drops.
"Fast food. What if milk hurts?"
"Time over."
Seon-ah mutters coldly.
Thud.
Another collapse. Teachers scream, shoving the phone around.
Good job, Seon-ah!
Come to think of it, her one hobby was reading old joke books at home. I flash a silent thumbs-up; she blushes, smirking with a soft hoot.
Ghost Story Club