Episode 7: The Smiling Woman (3)

The next morning, my eyes snapped open before Mom could even wake me. With all the bizarre shit that had been happening lately, I'd been on edge without realizing it. Thanks to that, I arrived at school early.

Yesterday was the entrance ceremony, so we'd used a temporary classroom on an upper floor, but today the class assignments were finalized, and we were directed to a room on the first floor.

Nakseong High School. A liberal arts high school in Gwanak-gu, Seoul, established in 1984. The first graduating class had already hit their fifties, scattered across society, so it had some tradition to it, I guess.

Rumor had it there was a foundation footing the bill, classifying it as an autonomous private high school—or self-governing private for short—but it pursued an oddly mundane normalcy. The curriculum and atmosphere were no different from any regular public school.

With Seoul National University right nearby, you'd think it'd strive to become an elite academy, but after over thirty years, it hadn't bothered. The student body was solidly average.

'Which is why even a middling student like me got in.'

Sitting quietly in the classroom, lost in thought, I turned my mind to the school building itself. Three structures forming a U-shape around a central playground—simple layout. From the main gate, the middle was the main building, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠left had the cafeteria, right the gym that doubled as an auditorium. Nothing looked off.

But the tutorial message had been clear: this school hid some kind of 'secret'...

'...Looks like a perfectly ordinary school on the surface.'

By my standards, it wasn't ordinary anymore. Four Demon Kings—unknown monstrosities—were buried beneath it.

'Sigh... Where the hell do I even start unraveling this?'

Secrets, Demon Kings—they felt impossibly distant. For now, I'd tackle what was right in front of me: the Smiling Woman ghost story from yesterday's orientation handout.

This phenomenon had to tie into whatever path I needed to walk.

'Make digging into the "Smiling Woman" from the handout today's goal.'

To do that, I needed someone who remembered the relevant section precisely. Memories would fade with time, so today I'd chat up as many classmates as possible and probe if they recalled the handout.

'Me, the type who never went out of his way to make friends... Friends are nice to have, but too many entanglements just wear you out. And now I gotta play social butterfly? What a pain.'

Lost in such thoughts at my desk, I spotted Seon-ah bursting through the door right before the bell, panting like mad.

'Lives right next to school and still cuts it this close.'

I recalled some weird stat I'd read: the closer you live, the more likely you are to be late.

"Alright, everyone~ Line up by the person in front and draw a paper."

Our homeroom teacher—a pot-bellied middle-aged guy—chuckled his "hol hot hol" laugh, using that bizarrely polite speech. Just one day in, and he was cracking jokes at his own pace. Seemed like a guy with real charisma. I drew a paper too.

'Let's see... 26?'

Seats and partners were assigned by the number. I checked the seating chart on the blackboard and headed to desk 26. Hoping for a cute girl, heart fluttering, I moved to the window side—and there sat a mountain of a boy.

"Huff... huff..." He looked like even breathing was a workout. Adjusting his glasses, fiddling with his earphones.

'Saw him yesterday.'

Memory clicked: the guy who'd walked home chatting animatedly with Gyeong-won.

"Hey, nice to meet you. Let's get along."

"Huff... Nice to meet ya, neung."

We chatted a bit, and he didn't seem bad. Aside from stashing chocolate bars under his desk and munching with a sneaky "buhiit," or popping in earphones every break to watch weird anime on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his phone.

Anyway, time to ask what I wanted.

"Deok-hoon, got a question."

"Yeah?"

"You remember that school orientation handout they handed out and collected yesterday? Did you read it?"

"...Yeah."

"It had all these weird warnings. Remember any?"

He was deep in anime when I spoke, pulled out his earphones, and glanced vaguely my way.

"Oh, the Smiling Woman thing?"

Guy talked like a bad anime translation, heavy on the Japanese vibe. I bit back a correction—first impressions—and nodded.

"Yeah, that. Ring any bells?"

He chuckled with a few pokes at his phone and spilled.

"If you run into the Smiling Woman, never acknowledge her presence~"

"Don't acknowledge her?"

"Dame."

Dame? What the hell?

"...Nothing else come to mind?"

"Zenzen."

With that, he jammed his earphones back in and zoned out with a hiss.

'Sigh... Next up, Seon-ah's seat.'

Her partner was a glasses-wearing girl reading a book, doll-like tiny face. Long black hair, translucent skin—eye-catching.

Seon-ah fidgeted awkwardly with her pencil case next to this new face, then lit up seeing me.

"Hey, Seon-ah. Almost late today, huh?"

"Ahaha..." She gave a more natural smile than yesterday.

"Grandma woke me up late..."

"You live with just your grandma?"

"Yeah..."

Parents gone somewhere? Complicated family situation.

"Made friends with your partner yet?"

"Not yet..."

Her partner glanced over at the words, then back to her book, expressionless.

'Gotta ask about the handout. Might as well play busybody to get them talking.'

I turned to Seon-ah's partner. "Hey, I'm Lee Joon."

She met my eyes and smiled faintly. "Hi. I'm In Ha-yoon."

Shed been stone-faced seconds ago—I'd worried she'd ignore the "loser talking to her"—but she responded with a smile. Unlike Seon-ah's hesitant mumble, her voice was clear, announcer-smooth, like rolling pearls.

"Remember that orientation handout they gave out and took back yesterday?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Had some weird warnings. Recall any?"

"I do. Curious?"

"Yeah, super curious. Mind sharing?"

Ha-yoon touched slender fingers to her lips thoughtfully. Pale, transparent hands, slim fingers, neat nails. Nothing like my rough, uncared-for paws—I swallowed involuntarily.

"If you spot a woman grinning strangely in school, ignore her completely and act naturally until she passes~ Something like that."

She remembered it in detail.

"Holy shit... Creepy, right?"

"Totally."

A chilling warning sandwiched casually between uniform codes and hair length rules. Bizarre didn't cover it.

Seon-ah fidgeted, eyes darting, left out of the convo. I turned to her. "Seon-ah, wanna check out the tuck shop next break?"

"Yeah... Sounds fun..." She smiled, relieved.

I said bye and headed back to my seat.

'Past life, I went to an all-boys school after Naksung closed. Never got close to girls... But no stuttering this time—progress.'

Next life, Naksung's closure sent me to a boys' school. Co-ed was peak, I thought, settling in for English class.

Nothing special—just intros with names in English.

Next break, I grabbed Seon-ah for the tuck shop as promised. I'd have invited Ha-yoon if our eyes met, but she just read on. Oh well—we headed out alone.

Nearing the shop, Seon-ah piped up like she'd just remembered. "Oh, right. Gyeong-won..."

"Oh, shit. Yeah."

Head full of ghost stories and school secrets, I'd blanked. We'd ditched the ceremony together yesterday, bonded over giggles—should've brought him.

Early bonding stage: stick to the initial crew, no one left out, avoids drama.

"He won't sulk if we ditch him, right?"

"Yeah..."

But that pretty-boy rich kid vibe—he probably skipped cheap tuck shop grub anyway. Self-justifying, we arrived.

Line was endless, as expected.

"Won't even browse snacks before break ends."

"Yeah..."

Not really hungry—more about bonding with a new friend. Didn't matter.

Chaos reigned: chatter, shouts of "Auntie, this please! That one! Pay here!" Crowds shoving in and out—total mess.

Some rough-looking seniors shoved past; I nearly fell, instinctively grabbing Seon-ah's hand to steady.

Instantly, her soft, warm temperature hit—brain flash.

'Fuck, I'm fucked...'

Seon-ah's eyes widened in shock. No time to explain—shoved amid the crowd, I dragged her through by the hand, barely escaping the throng.

We cut in accidentally, emerging at the snack shelves—hands still awkwardly half-linked.

"Phew, total madhouse here, huh?"

I played it cool. No reply. Noisy around us, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tense silence between.

She eased her hand away first; I let go. Pretending to browse, I peeked—stiff face. Mild scowl. Clearly uncomfortable.

'Ah, fuck... Definitely fucked.'

Excuses now? Awkward.

"Pick anything you want?"

Silence.

"...Seon-ah?"

She frowned slightly, averted eyes.

...Pissed? Movie pretty boys grab hands after one contrived day of coincidences. Real life? Day one grab = creep.

'It was an accident, really... Shit, what do I say? Flow was good till now...'

Seon-ah: low self-esteem, socially awkward. Me: zilch girl experience. How to salvage?

'Five minutes rewind...'

Then—a small shriek from the entrance.

I paused mid-pay for a random rice cake, glanced back casually.

A middle-aged woman beamed ear-to-ear at the door. I froze.

Ordinary neighborhood auntie look—but face slathered ghost-white powder, features blurred. Eyes and mouth torn into perfect half-moons, grotesque grin.

Someone yelped. "What the—scared me!"

"Auntie, what? Don't block the way!"

"Fuck, blocking..."

Irritated students bumped her while exiting, shoved aside. Some gasped at the makeup and laugh.

And...

'How tall is that lady?'

Chaos blinded them. Packed crowd, hard to see neighbors—yet her head protruded a full head above grown high schoolers.

"S-Seon-ah..."

I sought her instinctively. She'd seen too—awkward air gone, face pale as she sidled up.

"Y-Yeah..."

"Wh-what do we do? That's... her, right? The Smiling Woman..."

Panicking, I asked her.

"Y-Yeah... Look..."

Seon-ah, ghostly pale, continued. "Just... stay put..."

I nodded faintly, meeting her eyes.

Ignore the Smiling Woman, act natural till she passes. Handout said so.

Murmurs swelled. Eyes locked on the beaming woman.

Lowered voices, anxious whispers. "What the hell..." "Crazy person?"

"No—aaargh/////////////////////////////////"

Sudden guttural screech—she whipped something wildly. Cutter knife, industrial-grade, not student toy.

Students passing slashed—necks twisting unnaturally, dark red spraying.

"Guh... guh..." Slash.

"M-Mom... my neck..."

Stunned silence. Then.

"Kyaaaaaa!"

"Uwaaaaa! Help!"

"Hurk! Uwaaa! Crazy bitch!"

Screams as they fled—but tuck shop packed solid. Escapees tangled with queuers, total pileup.

At the epicenter, entrance: she swung madly.

"Kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Uwaaaa! Help!"

"Hurk... hurk! Move! Move!"

"Kyaa! Run! Run!"

Nearby students—six or seven—necks severed, toppled limply. Too dense to sprawl; slumped on neighbors.

A guy catching a corpse blanked at the spurting neck.

"Kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya!"

Insane laughter, arms whipping beyond human speed/strength—hacking frenzy.

"Uwaaaa, fuck!"

"Huuuuurk!"

Entrance massacre trapped us inside, crowding the counter like cornered rats, milling helplessly.

"Kraaaaaa!" Whoosh— "Guhk..."

"Kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya!"

"Kyaaaa!" Whoosh— "Grrrk..."

"S-Seon-ah."

"Hurk... hurk..."

Terrified, she gasped raggedly. Cackling maniac sliced through the sea of students, closing in.

Act natural? Bullshit.

'Fuck that, fuck.'

We trembled already. Playing ignorant? Impossible.

"Hup!"

I shoved Seon-ah to the counter fast. She yelped softly. I knelt, laced hands into a step for her foot.

'Over. The. Counter. Window. Escape.'

She lip-read, startled, then nodded—stepped on my hands, vaulted gasping to the window side.

Entrance blocked—only exit: counter-opposite window.

I followed, glass-top hopping. Behind counter: tuck shop auntie crouched, calling cops.

"P-Police? Naksung High tuck shop! Hurry! Murder! Murder! Come quick!"

We slipped past to the window—shoulder height for me. Doable. Tough for short Seon-ah.

She arrived first, panting. I hoisted her up to grip and climb.

She barely crested. My turn.

"J-Joon-ah..."

She spun immediately, urgent across the frame. "I wasn't mad...! You know...?"

The hand grab scowl. I nodded quick, gripped, jumped hard.

One leg hooked—strength failed, dropped back.

Huff huff. Bent for retry—Seon-ah's eyes bulged behind me, screaming desperately.

"J-Joon-ah! Joon-ah!! No!! Kyaaaa!!"

I turned.

She'd spotted us—doubled speed, plowing through the crowd, beaming insanely.

Dadadada dadadada—

"Kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya kya!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Till now, playful. Now—shoulder blurred supersonic; ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠necks snapped, heads flew.

Cackling, she vaulted counter, airborne knife to my skull—in one second.

"Don't gooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Industrial cutter split my head. Vision blacked.

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