The Bait Works Too Well
Swish, swish.
With every sweep of the broom, piles of bugs were cleared away.
Having been steeped in the pesticide for five hours, the insects rolled across the hallway floor like dry leaves.
“Ugh... This is a bit much. To think we were living in a place like this.”
Dohee, who had been sweeping for quite some time, wiped the sweat from her brow. Clearing away the dead bugs was backbreaking labor in itself.
The pests weren't just in the corners of the classrooms; they were tucked away in shelves, door frames, and every tiny crevice, demanding meticulous attention.
Beside her, Dojin, who had been sweeping even more vigorously, wiped his own sweat and agreed.
“I expected some of this since it was an abandoned school, but this goes way beyond my expectations.”
“See? I told you it was a good idea to get rid of them. If we had left them alone, they would have laid more eggs and multiplied even further.”
Dohee puffed out her chest proudly.
She looked exactly like Ttorang-i waiting for a compliment.
“You're right. If it weren't for you, Dohee, I can't even imagine the mess we'd be in. Thank you, Dohee.”
“Hehehe.”
Despite her exaggerated pose earlier, Dohee laughed bashfully the moment Dojin actually praised her. She was surprisingly weak to compliments.
To spare his girlfriend further embarrassment, Dojin changed the subject.
“I'm not sure if we'll have enough time to finish cleaning everything today.”
“I know... It's already been two hours, and we've barely finished the third floor.”
Since they had started their cleanup from the fourth floor, they were averaging about one floor per hour.
The problem was that the second floor and below would take much longer.
Unlike the third and fourth floors, which were mostly empty, the second floor housed rooms they actually used.
On the second floor alone, there was the recently built library, the home theater, their bedroom, and Dojin's workshop.
Naturally, because the spaces were filled with furniture and belongings, cleaning them would take twice as long. They had to search every single nook and cranny for dead bugs.
“By the way, Dohee, aren't you scared of bugs? Seungwan looked like she was about to faint when she saw them.”
Dojin recalled the moment they had opened the doors for ventilation.
The second Seungwan saw the carpet of insect carcasses covering the main building's floor, she had bolted as if running for her life. Dojin conveniently forgot that he, too, had grit his teeth and run right alongside her.
“These? They're a bit gross, but not really scary. I guess it's because I had to catch so many of them back when I lived alone.”
“...”
Dojin fell silent at her casual remark. He couldn't find the words to respond.
In his mind, he pictured the studio apartment Dohee had lived in before they moved here.
'A place that literally deserved the description "a house that kills people."'
The basement room hadn't had a single window. With no ventilation and a low elevation, the stench of the sewer clung to the entire floor.
Before his regression, Dohee had spoken of it so lightly that he hadn't realized how bad it was. But having experienced it himself, he found it incredible that she had survived in such a place for years.
Just then, Dohee pushed a trash can toward him.
“Oppa, this one's full. Empty it, please.”
“Sure.”
The blue classroom trash can was piled high with insect carcasses. Covering it with the lid, Dojin carried it down to the first-floor incinerator and dumped the contents.
Since the bugs had died from poison, burning them was the safest option. It would be dangerous if Bori or the other cats tried to eat them.
However, when Dojin returned with the empty bin, he was met with a sight that made him sigh.
“...Already?”
“Yeah. There are two more bins besides this one, so empty those too, please.”
The trash cans Dohee was working on were filling up in the blink of an eye.
For the rest of the afternoon, Dojin had to set aside his broom and do nothing but haul trash.
“Phew, I'm exhausted. I can't do anything else today. My battery is completely drained.”
“Thanks for your hard work, Unni,” Seungwan said, handing a cold cup of coffee to Dohee as she walked into the office.
“Unni? Since when am I your Unni?”
“Anyone who catches bugs for me is automatically my Unni.”
“Is that so? Then I'll enjoy the drink, Dongsaeng.”
Dohee smiled and accepted the playful affection from her usually chic friend. She knew exactly why Seungwan was acting this way.
Taking a long sip of the coffee, Dohee said gently, “You don't have to feel bad.”
“You noticed?”
“How could I not, when you're handing out bribes like this?”
As Dohee gestured with the coffee cup, Seungwan gave a wry smile.
“Still, I'm sorry. I should have helped.”
“It's fine. You can't handle bugs.”
“...”
It wasn't just that she couldn't handle them. She was practically traumatized.
That was how shocking the sight had been for Seungwan today.
Understanding her friend's plight, Dohee added, “Besides, you worked here in the office. That's more than enough.”
While Dojin and Dohee were clearing out the bugs, Seungwan had been editing videos in the office. The couple had cleaned the office first specifically so she could work in comfort. Otherwise, she would have spent the whole day hovering anxiously out in the schoolyard.
“Is this the video going up today?” Dohee asked, leaning in close to look at the screen.
“Yeah. The title is 'Ttorang-i the Master Thief.'”
“Ah, the one where Ttorang-i hid Oppa's things.”
“Right. It turns out she's been doing it for a really long time. I was shocked when I went through the CCTV footage.”
Dohee pressed play and gasped. The date of Ttorang-i's first offense shown in the video was a full month ago.
She had assumed the dog had just taken a few things over a couple of days, but as Seungwan said, Ttorang-i had been running a long-term operation.
“She did this for a whole month before getting caught?”
“Crazy, right? I couldn't believe it either. I think Ttorang-i is way smarter than we give her credit for.”
“Ugh... It's not good news for me if my rival for my boyfriend's affection is a genius.”
Dohee grumbled, upgrading her assessment of her canine competitor. To outsiders, it might look like Dohee was just playing along with a joke, but she was entirely serious.
'That little rascal Ttorang-i is definitely keeping her guard up against me.'
Otherwise, why would the dog keep her distance only from her? Ttorang-i had recovered enough to play happily with Seungwan, yet she stubbornly ignored Dohee. Even tempting her with her favorite treats didn't work.
“Oh my, did she even go into the annex? She was roaming all over the place in the middle of the night.”
Despite her wariness of Ttorang-i, the video was genuinely entertaining. Since the dog spent most of the day glued to Dojin's side, Dohee hadn't realized that Ttorang-i was actively exploring every corner of the Sekki House during the early hours of the morning.
Of course, her goal wasn't just a leisurely stroll, but finding the perfect hiding spot for Dojin's belongings, which made it even more fascinating.
In the video, Ttorang-i emerged from the annex, seemingly unable to find a good spot, and headed toward the warehouse. Seungwan pointed at the screen.
“Look here. The moment the security guards walk by, she hides.”
“Oh my god, she really does! Why is she filming a spy movie by herself?”
It was no joke; the footage looked like a scene from a stealth film. Ttorang-i's ears perked up, and she immediately ducked into the vegetable garden. A moment later, the guards walked right past.
Once the guards were completely out of sight, she stood back up and slowly crept out of the garden. It was a sequence Dohee had to replay several times out of sheer amazement.
Ultimately, without getting caught by anyone, Ttorang-i hid the item in the warehouse and made her way back to the workshop where her cushion was. But as Dohee watched the final sequence, she tilted her head and pressed the spacebar.
Clack.
“What's wrong? Why did you stop it? There's still more left,” Seungwan asked, worried that something might be wrong with the edit.
But Dohee's response was unexpected.
“No, it's just... I think I saw something strange pass by here.”
“Something strange?”
At Dohee's words, Seungwan rewound the footage.
Ttorang-i came out of the warehouse, crossed the garden, and entered the main building. She ran up to the second floor in one go, lingered in front of the night-duty room, and then slipped into the workshop.
“Right here!”
Clack!
Seungwan paused the video at Dohee's shout and gasped. A faint, white shape was visible at the far end of the hallway.
It had passed by so quickly that even Seungwan, who had edited the footage, hadn't noticed it.
“Hold on.”
Taking the keyboard from Dohee, Seungwan manipulated the playback.
Tap, tap.
She adjusted the playback speed with a few keystrokes and hit play again.
“W-what is that?”
Seungwan covered her mouth. A white, blurry shape could be seen floating at the end of the hallway.
Compared to the panicked Seungwan, Dohee remained relatively calm. She watched the clip a few more times on behalf of her frozen friend before asking, “It went upward, right?”
“...”
Unable to find her voice, Seungwan simply nodded. After hovering in the air for a brief moment, the object definitely vanished toward the ceiling.
The problem was that they had no idea what it was. Judging by the footage, it was at least larger than Bori, but they had never seen such a creature living here.
Seungwan voiced the thought that instinctively crossed her mind.
“C-could it be a ghost?”
“A ghost? Don't be silly. It's probably just one of Bori's family.”
Dohee dismissed the idea. The cats often opened the playroom door to wander out, so she assumed one of them had simply been caught on camera. But Seungwan shook her head.
“N-no. Bori and her kittens all have patterns, so they wouldn't look completely white like this. And look here, it's floating in midair.”
“...”
At Seungwan's prompting, Dohee leaned closer to the screen. Just as her friend said, the object in the video appeared to be hovering off the ground.
“Let's check the other cameras.”
Following Dohee's suggestion, Seungwan quickly checked the feeds from other cameras at the same timestamp. Unfortunately, they couldn't get a clear angle. Most of the cameras hadn't captured it at all, and the few that did were too far away to make out any details.
“W-what should we do? Should I just cut this part out?”
Though the question was directed at Dohee, the answer came from behind them.
“Let's include this in the final edit and upload it.”
“Kyaaa!”
With a shriek, Seungwan jumped and clung to Dohee. Seeing her reaction, the voice spoke again.
“It's just me, Baek Dojin. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”
“Ah...”
Hearing Dojin's voice, Seungwan slowly turned her head. Only after confirming it was indeed him did the tension leave her face.
“Please make some noise when you walk in...” she grumbled, trying to calm her racing heart. Dohee patted her shoulder with a chuckle.
“He did. You were just too focused to hear him, Seungwan.”
“Oh, really? Sorry about that.”
“Haha, it's fine. Anyway, let's attach this footage to the end of the video. Like a post-credits scene.”
“...Are you sure?” Seungwan asked, looking hesitant. The thought of editing that creepy footage made her uncomfortable. But Dojin's next words left her with no choice.
“Yes. It seems like perfect bait to draw attention. It's not like we fabricated the footage, right?”
“No, we didn't...”
Seungwan secretly wished they had. It would have felt much less unsettling. Dojin continued.
“And who knows? Maybe someone watching the video will recognize what it is.”
“...Alright.”
Seungwan nodded. She couldn't keep rejecting Dojin's suggestions without a good reason, and as an editor, she had to admit it was excellent material.
'It was about time we drew in some new viewers anyway.'
As the pandemic dragged on, people's mental states were deteriorating. Perhaps because of that, the video showing the playground opening had received a sudden surge of malicious comments. It seemed that people stuck in their homes couldn't stand seeing others enjoying themselves.
In the beginning, the comment section hadn't been like this. Most of the feedback had been supportive of the families or praising the cute kids. Recently, however, the supportive comments had dwindled, replaced by a rapid rise in vitriol.
Even though the faces were blurred, they needed to redirect the public's attention before the families featured in the video got hurt.
'Dojin probably suggested using this footage to create a distraction for that very reason.'
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Seungwan began editing in earnest. Under her touch, the atmosphere of the video grew increasingly mysterious and eerie. While the main body of the video felt like a lighthearted fantasy adventure about an animal, the post-credits scene was the epitome of mystery horror.
Once the editing was complete, the video was uploaded to the channel that evening.
Just as Dojin and Seungwan had anticipated, the reaction to the post-credits scene was explosive.
Is it a ghost, or is it not?
Is it fake, or is it real?
Viewers were fiercely divided, leaving thousands of comments. Some even claimed to be professional video editors offering their analysis. With the comment section so active, the malicious comments were naturally buried. The sheer volume of hate comments had decreased, but more importantly, other viewers simply ignored them.
Checking the comment section, Dojin smiled with satisfaction. It was exactly the result he had hoped for.
However, the impact of the video went far beyond their expectations.
“Who contacted us, you said?”
At Dojin's dumbfounded question, Seungwan replied with an equally stunned expression.
“A TV station. You know that show How Is That Possible? They saw the video and want to come film an episode here.”
“...”
“And earlier, I got a call from Animal Farm. Yesterday, we even got inquiries from Two Days & Three Nights and Jumping Man asking if they could rent our location.”
“...”
Dojin looked over the documents Seungwan handed him. They were all inquiries regarding location sponsorships.
Aside from the major programs Seungwan had mentioned, there were requests from various cable channels and even famous YouTubers. The thick stack of papers seemed to scream at Dojin, begging to be chosen.