Sleep Paralysis
No matter how hard she tried, no matter how desperately she struggled, there were things she could never catch up to. Was it the insurmountable gap in talent between people? Moreover, those with exceptional talent didn't slack off just because they were gifted. They knew better than anyone how brutal it was to make a living through art, and precisely because they had talent, they pushed themselves even harder, day after day. And yet, the future remained uncertain. Once they left this tiny school, they would have to fight against painters from across the country—across the world—to make their names known if they wanted any chance of living comfortably. That was why Hyesu actually felt relieved. In her four years of college, a period that was neither too long nor too short, she had managed to achieve a clear-eyed self-assessment.
My skills are mediocre. Not outstanding, but not completely hopeless either—just average. Because of that, the decision hadn't been all that difficult. She knew that staying in this middling zone would never lead to success. Even if she somehow got lucky and succeeded, her lack of foundation would be exposed soon enough. That was why the thought 'Ah, just a little more and I could be better' never crossed her mind. She felt no lingering attachment. Being mediocre made it surprisingly easy to let go.
And once she gave up, her heart felt lighter. She could prepare for the future faster than those who stubbornly clung to their dreams despite lacking talent or skill. Hyesu planned to start knocking on employment doors the moment she finished her graduation project. She had already been researching other art-related fields, compiling a list of potential options, and had even completed a short internship early in the semester through a school program to gain experience. The feedback there had been quite positive; she'd received several offers to join them after graduation.
Still, the four years—no, the effort she'd poured in since childhood—felt too precious to waste. For this final graduation piece, she wanted to give everything she had. Yes. This would be her last work. So...
Hyesu poured even more intensity into her focus. She wanted to complete the painting perfectly. Since it was to be her final piece, she intended to pour every last drop of passion and sincerity into it. Ignoring her growing fatigue, she kept moving her brush.
Suddenly feeling cold, Hyesu shivered and pulled a shabby red checkered cardigan from her bag on the studio sofa, slipping it on. It was an old long-sleeved sweater she didn't usually wear outside, but it was so comfortable that she often used it while working. That was probably why the sleeves were covered in paint stains. No matter how many times she washed it, the marks refused to fade completely. It was like a garment that carried every hardship of her four years of struggle. She had brought it today as well. After all, she planned to work for a long time.
This private studio, which she would use until the piece was finished, was famous for staying chilly even in midsummer, so something simple to throw on was essential. A sudden thought struck her: once she completed her graduation project, she would have to say goodbye to this cardigan forever. Since she had no intention of painting anymore, she would probably spend far more time in formal suits than in this ratty old sweater. The realization left a faint bitterness in her chest.
Memories of the past flickered through her mind. They hadn't all been happy times. Still, she had endured by focusing solely on art. Had she given up too soon? Of course, quitting early had allowed her to set her career path more quickly and decisively, but even so... There had been moments when she wondered if she should have tried just a little longer. But no. This was the right place to stop. She had done enough. That was why it hurt. Or perhaps emptiness was a more accurate word than sadness. It felt like a mixture of love and hate. And that love-hate had been forged from genuine desperation.
But what could she do? She had no talent. Clinging stubbornly to something when you lacked talent was simply foolish. So she would stop here.
Clicking her tongue briefly, Hyesu turned back to her nearly completed graduation project. Even so, she felt a fair amount of pride in this piece; she had poured her entire soul into it. If someone asked her to create the exact same work again, she doubted she could. It was the result of exhausting every ounce of ability she possessed. Her professors seemed to have high expectations for it as well.
She had no regrets. She was about to lift her brush again when it happened.
A strange, chilling breath suddenly brushed across her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine. She gasped involuntarily. Her body froze solid. Thump. Thump. Thump. Her heartbeat began to race. Her breathing grew shallow. Her mouth went dry, and her body started to tremble. She remained in that awkward half-raised position, still trying to grip her brush.
Ah, I can't stay like this forever.
Her lips quivered. The hand holding the brush shook dangerously. After taking several deep breaths, Hyesu's gaze finally fell on her painting. It was a work into which she had poured everything, now on the verge of completion. But something was wrong with it.
Ah! What on earth is this?
As if someone had splashed ink on it, an incomprehensible black substance was spreading across her painting.
"N-no... D-don't... Please..."
She let out a low moan-like cry. She rushed over, trying desperately to wipe away the spreading ink, but it was no use. The unknown black entity only spread faster. It had already reached the point of no return. At the same time, despair settled over her.
"Ah... Aaaah..."
She couldn't even cry. Her mind went numb with helplessness. She had no way to soothe the chaotic emotions crashing over her. She collapsed onto the floor with a thud. Though she landed hard on her backside, she felt no pain. All she could do was stare powerlessly as her painstakingly created graduation project was swallowed by blackness and ruined.
A profound sense of futility washed over her. It felt as though her heart was being dyed pitch black as well. This feeling was exactly the same as when she had decided to put down her brush. After living for so long with only painting in her heart, the moment she realized the limits of her talent and chose to give up, it had felt like her soul was burning away into darkness. Was this emptiness...? Not even tears came. She only felt wronged.
Yes. The strongest emotion was resentment.
What now? What am I supposed to do? My graduation project is ruined. What happens to me now?
She didn't know. For a moment, she lost all sense of direction and began to drift. Not knowing what to do, Hyesu exhaled sharply as if the air had been punched from her lungs. She blinked rapidly for a long time. Before long, tears welled up in her eyes and began to fall.
That was when it happened again.
Once more, she felt that eerie breath sweep across her body. Her heart sank, and goosebumps erupted all over her skin. The ceiling light began to flicker. Blink. Blink.
Her body shook violently, like a trembling aspen leaf. Why? The air itself seemed to be growing colder. Hyesu could feel it now. Something was standing right in front of her. Whatever had destroyed her artwork was staring at her from just ahead. It seemed to be approaching through the painting now drenched in black.
Suddenly she realized the painting wasn't simply stained black. It looked like a tunnel leading to a place with no visible end—an entirely different space from reality. Yes, it reminded her of an endlessly dark tunnel. And something was coming from within it.
She didn't know what it was. She couldn't see it. But she could sense it. Every time the flickering light plunged the room into darkness, she caught glimpses of a strange silhouette. She could feel that cold, fishy breath drawing closer.
Ah... Is it after my body again?
Hyesu was terrified. So terrified. And once again, her body refused to move. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't move even a single finger. The wretched sleep paralysis had begun again.
For a fleeting moment, a thought occurred to her. Maybe I'm still dreaming? Could all of this be a nightmare? The sleep paralysis that had become almost familiar by now. Ironically, Hyesu had grown somewhat accustomed to this situation. And more than the horror unfolding before her, she found herself thinking: If this is just a bad dream, maybe my graduation project is still intact?
Even though she had decided to abandon painting, some lingering attachment remained. Because it was her final work, she didn't want to lose it so meaninglessly. Even if she was about to be violated by the gwoeyi appearing before her eyes, she hoped at least her artwork would remain whole.
Yes. After all, this was just a nightmare. Nothing but a dream. If she could endure it a little longer, it would pass. If she could bear that momentary humiliation, if she could endure the disgust, everything would be fine. It would all just fade away. That's what Hyesu told herself.