Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Giving Her a Name
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A little past noon.
It was a day that felt like a weekday lurking beneath the label of a weekend.
Park Yeon-jeong, whose suit was on the verge of bursting at the seams, had fortunately cleared the ghost story without issue and was heading home.
Grrrrumble—
His stomach growled.
Grrrrrrumble!
Fiercely.
If he'd known it would come to this, he should've at least eaten the breakfast that Jeong Da-ram woman had packed for him.
He'd regretted it the entire bus ride back.
But.
Soon enough, such needless worries would vanish.
Once he got home, he could savor the doenjang stew handmade by their Ghost Story Woman.
Grrrrrrumble.
His stomach was still roaring like thunder and lightning, but Park Yeon-jeong's smile grew wider with every step closer to home.
“……I'm home.”
And just like that, he arrived in front of the Ghost Story Woman's house.
Park Yeon-jeong clutched the key tucked in his pocket and strode toward the door that looked ready to crumble at any moment.
The key in his hand slid into the lock.
Click.
As the sturdy bolt unlocked—with the thought 'finally, time for that delicious doenjang stew' crossing his mind—
Bang!
!!
The front door burst open, and something massive inside lunged fiercely toward Park Yeon-jeong.
Whoosh!
If he hadn't instantly braced his legs, he might have toppled backward.
Park Yeon-jeong's gaze fell on the black-haired beast that had thrown itself into his arms.
“Master… Master… Master.”
“……Uh, hey.”
“……!!”
The black-haired beast, whimpering softly in his arms, seemed to belatedly realize something.
“……Ahem.”
She began offering a hasty excuse for the current predicament.
“Ah, this is…… I tripped.”
“…I, I see.”
“It's true!”
“Yes! Yes, got it. You tripped!”
……But.
Didn't she hold on a little too long for just a trip?
And rubbing her cheek against my clothes… what was that about?
Park Yeon-jeong desperately wanted to ask, but for some reason, he feared that doing so might end with him no longer being of this world, so he held back.
The Ghost Story Woman swiftly shifted the topic.
“…More importantly. Why didn't you come home yesterday?”
“Ah, that was…….”
Where to even begin unraveling that epic tale? His brain was already refusing to function.
This had to be it.
Grrrrrrumble.
Yeah, this.
With his stomach plastered to his spine, his neurons weren't generating any ideas.
“That is……… I think I took the wrong bus.”
It was the best he could manage.
“……Took the wrong……bus?”
“…….”
Grrrrrrrrumble.
The Ghost Story Woman, who had just demanded an answer, heard the colossal roar from his gut.
“…Since you've returned safely, I won't press further.”
Thank you.
He'd honestly been worried the conversation might veer into strange territory if she kept asking.
Sending silent thanks to his navel clock for perfect timing, he safely entered the house.
And right now, the one thing he wanted most.
Sniff sniff.
……First things first, a shower.
He hadn't had a proper one since yesterday.
Halt!
Catching his faint mutter, the Ghost Story Woman's footsteps toward the kitchen paused briefly.
She straightened her posture, smoothed her collar neatly, and even adjusted her voice.
“You must be exhausted from the journey home. Today, allow me to scrub your back.”
“……No, that's fine.”
“No. Today, I insist…….”
A sudden war of insistence erupted.
To cut to the chase.
Park Yeon-jeong's victory.
Truth be told, it wasn't a total win on his part. The Ghost Story Woman had conceded first.
The reason was simple.
The stench coming off his body was overwhelming.
All he'd done was grab her hand and desperately plead for her not to enter the shower room.
“……For today, this will suffice.”
“……Pardon?”
What?
He had no clue what she meant by being satisfied, but the Ghost Story Woman obediently returned to the kitchen.
……However.
Sniff.
The sight of the Ghost Story Woman inhaling the scent from the back of her hand—the one he'd grabbed.
Just how potent was his odor?
Her faintly visible cheeks were flushed bright red.
‘……Was I really that ripe?’
Park Yeon-jeong headed straight into the shower and surrendered his body to the warm water.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen.
“……Ah, Master.”
One woman's inscrutable whimper stretched out toward the shower room.
Shhhhhhhh.
“…Water temperature's just right.”
But the woman's frail whimper seemed swallowed by the pouring shower.
“Master……your scent.”
And so, Park Yeon-jeong remained oblivious to whatever was unfolding beyond the door until the very end of his shower.
*****
It was a proper shower after so long.
The crisp freshness was so invigorating it even lifted his spirits.
As he headed to the kitchen with eager steps, thinking of the doenjang stew awaiting him—
Steam wafted up.
The rich, savory aroma of doenjang already teasing his nose, Park Yeon-jeong felt saliva pooling in his mouth before he knew it.
He wanted to thank the Ghost Story Woman for setting such an appetizing table.
“Always preparing meals like this……tha…nk…….”
……Excuse me?
Ghost Story Woman?
The table was laden only with mouthwatering dishes. The chef who should have been there was nowhere to be seen.
‘Should I just dig in?’
Grrrrumble.
A set table meant it was time to eat, so the moment Park Yeon-jeong went to pull out a kitchen chair—
An eerie chill tickled straight from his earlobe to his inner ear.
“Master.”
“!!…Y-Yes!”
He clamped one hand over the ear that had felt her breath and whipped his head around to check behind him.
There stood the Ghost Story Woman, perfectly still, gazing right at him.
“Master.”
“Yessir!”
Her voice sank straight through the floorboards.
At her low timbre, Park Yeon-jeong instinctively snapped to attention.
“I'll ask you once more, Master.”
This aura from the Ghost Story Woman was a first.
Gulp.
He swallowed dryly.
His breath caught.
He just wanted her to let him eat.
Yet the stomach clock that had been wailing moments ago was deathly silent now.
“Yesterday……where did you go.”
“Y-Yesterday, you mean?”
“Answer me.”
“…….”
Why did the baseball bat in the entryway shoe rack always catch his eye in moments like this?
The atmosphere wasn't normal.
One wrong word here, and he couldn't even imagine what form the Ghost Story Woman might take before his eyes.
In times like these.
Honesty was the way.
Coming clean with everything offered the highest odds of a right answer.
“……Truth is.”
He spilled it all.
Starting from the moment he met Kim Ha-eun at Seongsu Station.
The tale that the bus was actually a ghost story.
The story of being possessed by a ghost inside that bus. And the epic account of how he'd helped that ghost find peace.
He laid out every single event from the bus exactly as it happened, right there before the Ghost Story Woman's eyes.
More than that.
He hadn't deliberately stayed out late or anything.
It was unfair.
This is too much!
He nearly vented his grievance in that instant, but.
“…….”
Her glare was still too piercing.
A dizzying vibe, as if she'd devour him on the spot.
“………Cheating……”
“Pardon?”
She murmured lowly amid a whimper.
Park Yeon-jeong missed the Ghost Story Woman's faint whimper.
Surely she wasn't cursing him… or worse, hurling some dire malediction.
He still had no idea what had offended her.
Without knowing that.
All he could do was gaze helplessly at the cooling doenjang stew.
Grrrrumble.
As anxiety mounted with the leaking famine alerts from his navel clock.
“One thing.”
“Yes?”
“I'm asking because it seems Master shared a room to sleep with another woman.”
……Pardon?
At those solemn words, one figure flashed through his mind.
-Jeong Da-ram.
……This woman really is a ghost story.
How else could she nail it so precisely?
“……With me right here, another woman……I'd do it anytime…….”
“…….”
This time, thankfully, fragments of the Ghost Story Woman's mutter brushed his ears.
From that, he could infer the true reason for her anger.
Right now.
She saw his all-night absence as proof of a debauched evening, and she despised him for it.
It was clear.
“Nothing like that happened, I swear.”
“…….”
“It's true! Please believe me!”
“……Promise.”
A curt utterance.
With a brief whimper, she extended her pinky toward Park Yeon-jeong.
“……Promise me.”
“……….”
Huh?
Do ghost stories perform this cute pinky-swear ritual when making promises with others?
As Park Yeon-jeong tensed, wondering if she'd snap his pinky in one go.
“Master, promise.”
“Yessir!”
Like her devoted lapdog, his own pinky shot straight toward her.
Hook.
Their pinkies intertwined, sealing what was little more than a simple verbal pact.
The killing intent he'd felt from the Ghost Story Woman moments ago seemed to soften just a touch.
“……Eat before the stew cools.”
“Ah, yes…….”
After that, he mercifully finished his meal without incident.
The end of that truly eventful weekend was finally in sight.
And as dusk turned to night, the Ghost Story Woman strode boldly into his bedroom—where he'd already lain down to sleep.
“Master.”
“Y-Yes?”
Now treating his room like her own home, he tensed up without realizing.
“I know it's late and thus rude. But I have a request.”
“…….”
Yes, quite rude.
Very much so.
He wondered if there had ever truly been a moment of rest during this so-called weekend.
Please, no bizarre requests in the dead of night.
“……For me as well.”
“…….”
“A name, if you would grant one.”
“A-a name?”
Out of nowhere?
“I recently heard from That One that Master gave her a name.”
“…Ah.”
Noise zipped through his mind in a flash.
“……The meaning needn't be profound. Just a name Master can call me by comfortably.”
“…….”
But didn't her eyes sparkle far too brightly for that?
Contrary to her calm tone, the Ghost Story Woman stared at him with eyes brimming with anticipation.
Somehow, unlike with Noise.
He sensed he couldn't just gloss over this vaguely.
He closely examined the Ghost Story Woman's appearance before him.
Clad in a Japanese-style kimono.
Dark red eyes gleaming faintly.
A woman skilled at making doenjang stew.
Was doenjang stew more common in Japan than miso soup?
Amid the sudden detour into irrelevance.
Flash!
A single word streaked through his mind, as if possessed.
Japanese miso soup.
Miso.
Somi.
Soi.
“………How about Soi?”
“!!”
Whoosh!
The instant she heard those two syllables 'Soi,' an inexplicable glow bloomed across the Ghost Story Woman's face.
The woman, now bearing the name Soi, curved her lips into a faint smile.
“Thank you… Master.”
Her eyes seemed to sparkle even brighter that day. And with that, Park Yeon-jeong's interminable, un-weekend-like weekend drew to a close.
“Master.”
“Yes?”
“……May I hold just your hand while we sleep? Truly, just hands this time.”
“……”
Soi, this woman.
She'd just said 'this time.'
……It seemed Park Yeon-jeong's day wasn't over yet.