Living with a Ghost Story? What the Hell!

Who the hell said I had to live with a ghost story? What does that even mean!

The next morning, the city greeted the sunrise as always. Just yesterday, this place had been a disaster zone where a mengmang-grade ghost story appeared. Countless people had died, and even more had fallen into despair. But the world hadn't collapsed yet. Sunlight poured through shattered windows, and footsteps echoed over streets where gray dust had settled. Despair ran deep, but life went on regardless. Everyone was trying to survive somehow, adapt, and carry on with their daily routines.

"...Did you see it?"

"Of course I did. That was insane, right?"

"The mengmang-grade ghost story Collector. And Phantom too."

"...What the hell even is that? This Phantom guy."

From the morning hours, the city buzzed with talk of Phantom. The news channels were still covering the "Bosingak Ghost Story Terror" nonstop, and media outlets screamed about the "worst ghost story appearance in history." The Monster Countermeasure Headquarters was set to hold an emergency briefing. Everyone's attention was fixed on one single being.

The entity that had appeared before countless people the night before and subdued a mengmang-grade ghost story. Phantom. Or perhaps "that something" on the same level as a mengmang-grade ghost story.

The internet and news outlets were racing to report on the Bosingak incident.

"...Is it like the ghost stories are fighting among themselves?"

"Nah, but weird part is, did you hear what Phantom said at the end?"

"...'I'm not your enemy' or something?"

"Yeah, that's the real problem."

People came up with all sorts of theories. "Rivalry between mengmang-grade ghost stories." "Maybe infighting among the ghost stories?" "Phantom might be a ghost story that protects humans." But no one could be sure. Because nobody knew a damn thing about Phantom.

At that moment, at the Monster Countermeasure Headquarters.

"...Let's hear everyone's opinions."

The high-ranking officials and key agents sat in the central conference room, reviewing documents. The table was covered with photos of Phantom and reports. The being standing in the middle of the square, enveloped in black energy. The mengmang-grade ghost story Collector hugging him. Even the moment he placed his hand on the girl and told her to "stop."

"...Doesn't this look totally off no matter how you slice it?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Anyone can see they're both ghost stories."

"But there are too many weird things about it."

"First, when the mengmang-grade ghost story was about to show killing intent toward humans, Phantom stopped it with just a word."

"And that last thing he said."

That single phrase carried immense weight.

"...Why would a ghost story need to say something like that?"

"If it's really a ghost story, no reason for it."

"So it's not a ghost story?"

"That's the problem—we don't know."

A strange silence enveloped the conference room. No one could speak easily. Then, the head of countermeasures, Seo Ji-hoon, quietly opened his mouth.

"...One thing's for sure: Phantom isn't human. He didn't even flinch under that immense pressure. No human could."

As his words fell, the air in the room grew heavier.

"It's definitely the same kind of existence as a ghost story."

"...Or maybe a third kind of being, neither ghost story nor human."

He quietly stared at the photo.

"...Phantom."

'What the hell are you?'

No one could answer that question easily. But one thing was clear: they had to figure out what he was.

Meanwhile, in a small one-room apartment in Seoul, one man was suffering.

"Aaaargh!"

Who else? Yoon Si-hyeon—me!

"This is fucking insane! What the hell is this?!"

I'd spent the whole night scouring the news and internet. Everything I'd done at Bosingak. Every word I'd said to the crowd. And how people were seeing me now. I wake up, and suddenly I'm the world's protagonist? Like, what?!

'Even a novel title like that would get flak!'

"..."

The scene burned into my brain resurfaced. The Collector. That tiny little girl hugging me tight and saying,

— "...I waited."

— "I won't lose you again."

And because of those words, the whole world now saw me as some weird entity.

"...Ah."

No matter how I thought about it, this was irreversible. I lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling for a while.

"Notification Window..."

I'd shouted it countless times since getting home last night, but no response. It drags me into hell and then ghosts me?! Ignoring me like this all of a sudden?!

"What the hell do I do now?"

My head was a mess. No, "mess" didn't cover it. This was total chaos. I closed my eyes slowly, then opened them with a deep sigh.

Suddenly, I felt a clear gaze from somewhere. I glanced at the corner of the room, and there was another presence besides me.

"..."

I slowly turned my head and met the eyes of the girl sitting there primly on the floor a short distance away, just staring at me. Her golden eyes still sparkled, her small hands rested on her knees, and she was simply waiting. As if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be here.

"...Hey, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how long have you been there?"

The girl tilted her small head and answered shortly.

"...Always."

"...?"

'Always?'

So she'd been there all night—and watched me screaming and freaking out on the bed the whole time?!

My face burned for a second, but that wasn't the point right now!

"No, wait—how did you even follow me here?"

The Collector fell silent for a moment, then slowly moved her lips.

"...Followed."

"?"

"...Together."

"Haa."

Recalling yesterday: she must've come with me when I shadow-traveled.

'Damn Notification Window. What if it brought her along?'

Then my escape plan was pointless from the start!

'...New Year's off to a hell of a start.'

I could only grab the back of my neck. How was I supposed to process this?

"...So, what the hell are you?"

The girl quietly met my gaze.

"...Collector."

Short and firm.

"Yeah, I know that."

"Why are you clinging to me like this? Like I said yesterday, I'm not the person you're longing for."

Only then did she blink.

"...Don't know. But. Miss you. Familiar."

Repeating the same words from yesterday.

"..."

I was speechless. Same as what she'd said at Bosingak. I'd been too panicked then to think deeply, but hearing it now felt... different.

'Familiar...?'

Like it was how things had always been.

"...Me?"

"Yeah."

"...Why?"

The Collector tilted her head slightly, murmuring in a tone like it was obvious.

"...Don't know. So. Stay. Beside."

"Beside me?"

She nodded quietly.

"Lost."

"Lost what?"

"...Precious."

Was my head hurting from these answers just my imagination?

'Please, I have no idea what you're saying.'

The girl remained calm. Her face even more certain. She definitely believed in something. But right now, "precious" made no sense.

"...I'm the precious thing?"

"Yeah. Probably."

"No, what the hell does that even—"

—Grrrowl.

"Huh...?"

"..."

Short silence. What? Where's that coming from?

The girl lowered her head slightly and placed a hand on her stomach.

"...Hungry."

"You're hungry?"

"...Food."

Did ghost stories even get hungry? Whatever, screw it. No more thinking. Time to feed her first.

"Alright, let's eat."

I got up and headed to the kitchen. The girl stayed seated primly, her gaze following me as if it was natural. Seeing that, a deep sigh escaped me. This whole situation was absurd. My normal life fell apart half a year ago, but there's a limit!

Now I'm making breakfast after being told I'm "precious" by a mengmang-grade ghost story?

'I'm gonna lose it.'

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ran a hand through my hair, glaring at the ultimate culprit.

'Notification Window, you're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dead later.'

As I secretly plotted revenge, a sudden question popped up. What do I even call her? Collector? Calling her "Hey, Collector" feels wrong. Doesn't she have... a name or something?

"...Hey."

The Collector quietly looked up at me.

"What's your name?"

She hesitated a bit, then answered softly.

"...Collector."

"No, something else."

"...?"

"A name. You don't have one?"

She just shook her head quietly.

"Name... don't know."

"...?"

Unbelievable.

'She... doesn't know her own name?'

I looked at the girl again. This tiny ghost story was one of the world's strongest. A being with the horrific title of mengmang-grade. And now she was just looking up at me with sparkling eyes.

"..."

Even in the novel, the Collector never had a name revealed. The author ended it before her backstory even came up.

'Maybe giving her a name is how to save her... Worth a shot, nothing to lose.'

The girl sat still. Clear, serene golden eyes. Pale silver hair swaying lightly as she gazed at me obediently. A soft, moonlit hue somewhere.

Then, strange memories suddenly flooded my mind.

A single word slipped from my mouth unbidden.

"...Luna."

I'd muttered it without thinking. A name from that sudden, unfamiliar scene. The moment I said it, a strange tingle hit my chest. Was that my imagination?

'What was that memory? Whose is it...?'

The scenes vanished like a mirage. Did the Notification Window do something? No clue why they appeared.

'Maybe it's the Collector's backstory?'

As I thought that and looked at her, her eyes were wide, staring at me.

"..."

She slowly moved her small lips in surprise.

"Luna...?"

The girl mumbled it with her own voice, then repeated.

"...Luna."

Over and over.

"Luna..."

Confirming her name. It felt strangely right, like this name had always belonged to her. Why did it seem that way?

That thought didn't last. Poof.

"Whoa!?"

Luna suddenly lunged into my arms with her tiny body. Our distance closed in an instant. Her small arms wrapped tightly around my waist. So natural, so obvious.

'Don't just charge in like that!'

She's pretty, sure, but she's a ghost story—honestly, scary!

"H-Hey, hold on."

Panicking at the suddenness, but Luna buried her face in my chest and whispered softly.

"...Like."

A quiet voice. But full of feeling.

"...Luna, like."

Simple words, yet packed with emotion. Her small hands gripped my back tight. The moment she got a name, she felt even closer. I saw her silver hair as she slightly bowed her head. The faint warmth at my waist was so light and soft, I couldn't push her away harshly. She clutched my clothes firmly. Like she'd never let go. Like she'd been waiting for this name forever.

Somehow, she didn't seem like just a ghost story anymore. She held the strongest mengmang-grade title, yet right now, she felt like an ordinary girl. Why?

I couldn't bring myself to shake off her touch and just stood there.

'Wait, if she likes it this much, maybe...?'

Hoping against hope, I glanced at the Notification Window, but

Yeah, figured. No way it'd be that easy.

"...Seriously, how am I supposed to live now?"

No point agonizing more—no solutions anyway. So what? Gotta accept it. Day 1 of cohabiting with a mengmang-grade ghost story begins.