The Unnatural Chill
"Phew, didn't we turn on the heater? Even inside the building, my body's shivering all over."
S-man, who had been tapping away at his laptop on the sofa, suddenly let out a groan. It was right around autumn, so the office had one electric heater. They couldn't fit a big industrial blower in there, but it was enough modern convenience to save at least one person from the cold.
"There's a heater right next to you."
"That's just it... isn't it broken? I cranked up the temperature, but it's not getting any warmer."
Despite my point, S-man started chattering his teeth like he had hypothermia, even rubbing his arms vigorously with both hands. Sure enough, white breath was puffing from his mouth.
"Don't fall for it."
The madwoman, who had been sitting silently with her eyes closed, muttered a single word. S-man stopped trembling and suddenly broke out in sweat.
"Fuck! Why'd you crank the heat so high? I'm gonna melt here!"
S-man hurriedly turned down the electric heater and chugged a cold drink from the fridge. It was a far cry from the guy who'd been shivering just moments ago.
"Those special things often trick weak-willed humans like this. They make a cliff look like a path right in front of you, or lure you straight into drowning by convincing you it's solid ground."
"So, like some kind of hypnosis?"
I asked, and the madwoman replied with her eyes still shut.
"Similar, but not quite. It's more like tampering with the soul itself. Blinding the soul's eyes so you can't see what's right there, or plugging the soul's ears so you can't hear it. Even strong evil ghosts can't just yank out a soul or kill directly, so they induce 'suicide' indirectly like this. Suicide is a grave sin in the spiritual world, on par with murder. Victims get devoured by the evil ghosts or bound as guardian spirits to the area. As they pile up, the human realm shrinks and the spiritual realm expands. Not a good thing."
Yeah, if ghosts that could pull off hypnosis-corruption-training were swarming the world, that wouldn't be great.
"This world belongs to the living. When the living die, they should naturally go to the world of the dead. That's why, even now, reapers and enforcers are busting their asses east and west alike."
"Either way, sounds like the civil servants are getting fucked."
I scratched my neck, brushing off a sharp metallic tickle, and mocked the plight of underpaid public workers. They brag about their iron rice bowls, but nobody knows better than them that job security doesn't magically fix your life. Especially the grim reapers and death gods who have to pound the pavement—they're probably stuck at dead-end grade 9. The kind that jumps at my complaints, handling them whether they live or die, treating me like royalty.
Thinking about it that way kinda cheers me up.
I set down my empty coffee mug and glanced up at the flickering office incandescent bulb.
S-man started to stand, saying he'd check the break room for spare bulbs, but sat back down at the madwoman's shout.
"Don't move around for no reason! Just stay put! They can't get in, so they're venting their frustration."
"...But don't ghosts pass through walls and doors like nothing?"
"Only soulless wandering spirits can do that. Things that belong to nothing, interfere with nothing, whose will can't even reach the living. It's like closing all your windows and doors—you don't suffocate, right? Air still seeps through the tiniest cracks."
"So the ones surrounding the office now belong to something and have clear intent to interfere, which is why they can't enter?"
"Think of a thief who sneaks into a bank vault with just a hammer. No way to crack it open, so he pounds away in frustration."
"The spiritual world sure is wondrous."
S-man kept working on his laptop under the flickering bulb like it was nothing, but the madwoman suddenly started sprinkling rice and beans over him.
"You've gotten tangled with that guy and your fate's completely fucked. You were meant to die a normal human death, but now you've lost even that qualification. So those special things must love your body plenty."
"I think I taste pretty bad, though."
"A body like yours, easy to slip in and out of, walking around without a reaper to snag it? Gather every ghost in the world in front of you, and it'd turn into a bloodbath just to claim it."
"Guess when the boss's value skyrockets, so does the employee's. That's why being too awesome is a curse."
I shrugged, and the madwoman glared, hurling a handful of beans at me. They burned my skin like red-hot iron balls scorched for hours at thousands of degrees.
"You wrecked someone else's entire fate and have the nerve to brag? I'd rip your mouth open if I could, but I'm holding back because you gave me that 'hint.' Don't forget it."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm your boss right now, too. S-man, the rookie's rebelling against her boss! Time to instill some discipline!"
"We're an equal-opportunity office, so man or woman, screw-ups get the joint punishment regardless. I'll let this one slide with rookie mercy, but next time? No dice. File a clear written justification and get my review first before challenging the boss."
S-man put his hands on his hips and lectured sternly. The madwoman let out a hollow laugh and closed her eyes again.
Then the flickering bulb went pop! and died completely, plunging the office into pitch black. S-man's laptop screen went dark and shut itself off too.
But we weren't dumb kids who'd turn a blackout into a pillow fight romance, nor scared enough to freak over a little power outage.
"Blackout reminds me—there's a game you can play in a dark room with just three people."
"Intriguing. My guess? 99% sure it's corner hide-and-seek."
I smacked the back of S-man's high-IQ head.
"Right, you little shit. Corner game it is. The employee's already outsmarting the boss—talk about blue blood turning navy. Since you brought it up, explain more."
"Ahem! The corner game is played by three people in a square room. Leave one corner empty and take turns calling out while moving to the next corner. The first mover can't touch anyone's back, and the last can't get touched. Simple."
"But midway, that empty spot suddenly has someone—a classic twist?"
"Yes. Four corners, three people—if there's four, something non-human's joined. In a way, it's tied to summoning rituals."
"Dumb game. Repeating actions in the dark? Not weird if a ghost or two gets curious and joins. Doesn't even qualify as proper necromancy."
"But there are secret rules no one talks about. Break them, and you're in deep shit."
S-man headed to one corner like he was demonstrating.
"If the first mover touches someone's back, never ask who. Breaks the silence rule."
He moved to the next corner and continued.
"Also, never backtrack your path. Before the next call, you'd bump into whatever's waiting where you were."
He went to the third corner.
"Key rule: Never stray from the path. You'd cross the room center, seen as 'cheating' by the ghost running the game—poof, you're gone."
At the last corner, S-man kicked something at his feet and tilted his head.
"Who's this here?"
"Ignore it and come here."
"Yes."
S-man turned from the last corner and walked back to the center. I shone my smartphone light on his face. His pupils were glazed over, drool dripping from his mouth.
"Hmm, already got him. If he's this deep in hypnosis-corruption-training, he'll be spurting uncontrollably soon. Wait, that sounded kinda gay?"
"Cut the vulgar crap and sit him on the sofa. The yin energy around here's too thick—he just acted on his half-baked ghost story knowledge unconsciously."
"Like startling a war vet with fireworks and him ducking on reflex?"
"Close enough. Anyway, they're not backing off."
"Why send 'em away? They came all this way begging to get in—least we can do is offer tea instead of dinner."
I yanked up the blinds the madwoman had lowered at the window and faced dozens of eyeballs plastered to the glass. I could hear them rolling around even through the thick pane.
I opened the Google store, downloaded a "hypnosis app," and shoved the swirling hypnotic pattern at the window. As the thing stuck to the glass fell under, I went to drop my pants—but something started pounding on the office door.
"Anyone there?! Electrician's here—got reports of a massive blackout nearby!"
I had no choice but to pull my pants back up.