It Dwells in Gyeonggi Province (2)
Among the stories explaining human origins, the most widespread theory is probably evolution—the idea that humans branched off from ancestors like monkeys, chimpanzees, or gorillas. But if we toss in something a bit less scientific, there's another hugely famous tale that tons of people believe: Genesis 2:7, where God molds man from dust in His own image, breathes life into his nostrils, and man becomes a living soul.
On days of pouring rain, amid raging whirlwinds and thunder that shook the heavens and earth, primitive savages trembled, convinced it was divine wrath. It was the utterly absurd belief born from thinking themselves superior to beasts, the noblest of all.
According to that faith, the human soul comes from God Himself—a fragment, a divine avatar. And maybe that's why, in an era when the heavens parted and the world's energies surged, intense human emotions, regrets, and obsessions gained power, birthing countless mysteries and piling deaths into mighty grotesques.
An age where myths walked and breathed. Gods roamed the earth, mated with humans, and their hybrid offspring dominated the world with immense power, founding nations and reigning as kings—thus spawning countless creation myths.
Ancient history now. Nothing but preposterous lies no one believes anymore.
Yet even after the world's energies faded, faint traces lingered.
Ever heard of Heinrich's Law? It states that a single minor mistake repeats harmlessly at first, then leads to small accidents, escalating to injuries and finally massive disasters. A warning that ignoring even trivial hazards can snowball into catastrophe.
But that's just statistical analysis. It proves only the need for vigilance in the smallest things. Data on outcomes can't uncover every hidden cause and effect.
"Whoa, that startled me."
Someone darted out from a blind spot I hadn't noticed, so I twisted away quick to avoid tripping. Thought it was some homeless guy collapsed on the main road at first, but focusing, I saw it was a ghost—or more like ghost residue. Brain matter oozing from a shattered skull.
These were scraps formed from people's collective fear, disgust, anger—negative emotions pooling together. Not a proper spirit, so I'd been slow to notice it.
Lately, these things were popping up everywhere.
Normally, they'd vanish like fleeting afterimages. But with the world's energies returning, these worthless residues weren't dispersing—they were settling like sediment, taking on form and substance.
Give it a bit more time, and it could grow into a full-blown grotesque capable of harming people. But the world doesn't play that easy.
"Hey Hye-seon, here's your snack. Kinda underripe, though."
It'd fill me up okay now, but compared to a fully formed spirit, it'd be lacking. Maybe wait till it's riper?
These were close to earthbound spirits, so they wouldn't wander off if left alone briefly. Looked like it was in peak growth phase—right conditions, and it could evolve into a malevolent ghost. Too bad to eat now.
But what the hell was it doing? Crawling on the ground, flailing its hands.
The thing, which had been still as death, would twitch now and then, like grabbing at something.
Watching quietly to see what caught its eye, it soon slumped back limp.
"Tut, tut, tuung—"
"Ye-eun, watch ahead, sweetie."
A mom and her little girl passed right through it, but it just lay there dumbly—no reaction to people, it seemed.
"Huh?"
A whirring electric motor approached fast, and the limp lump started wriggling again. A kickscooter zipped past in a flash. Its sluggish hand clearly reached for the scooter.
"Interesting."
Staring at the slumped thought-mass, I realized its negative origin stemmed from the kickscooter.
Even mere residue without reason, emotion, or thought instinctively craves humans. Because that's its essence.
These things, shaped by human perception—shifting easily, vanishing easily—clung harder to people the more negative and unstable they were.
This one was no different. Layers of thoughts piled over time, seeking completion into a true being. It instinctively knew its root and thrashed to seal the causal loop.
"Eh, screw it. Too much hassle tracking this. Just eat it."
No sooner said than a dark shape stretched from the shadow at my feet, snatching and devouring it whole.
"Better clear dangers early—don't want anyone getting hurt."
Lots of schoolkids passed this busy road; an accident here could drag innocents in. No point getting greedy if it meant someone I knew got hurt—talk about awkward.
"Even here, they're multiplying. Quiet days won't last much longer."
* * *
"Fuck, this is creepy as shit."
Kim Tae-woong sped through the dark park path on his kickscooter, replaying what he'd heard at school. The guy's words felt like a curse, souring his already pissy mood.
Summer heat was kicking in, but tonight's air bit unusually cold. The familiar park felt oppressively heavy.
A sudden chill crawled up his spine, goosebumps rising—he shook his head hard.
"Gotta stop thinking about it. Keeps popping up and freaking me out more."
The zigzag path under dim streetlights cast thick shadows between trees. Even maxing the light, it barely pierced the bends.
Tae-woong cranked the brightness and speed to shake off the fear.
"Argh! What the—blinding light, you fucker!!!"
Sudden curses erupted. A few pedestrians shielded their eyes from the surprise scooter, but Tae-woong sneered past.
"What a retard lol."
The presence of passersby eased the spook a bit, maybe.
"Move it! Fuck, why so many bugs tonight."
Summer meant heat and crowds milling at night—path-blockers everywhere. His modded kickscooter, limit off like a faulty 8-ton truck, weaved perilously through people.
"Whoa, shit!"
"That psycho...!"
"Hey, asshole! Who rides a scooter here, you motherfucker?!"
A middle-aged guy jabbed a finger and yelled, but Tae-woong flipped him off casually.
"Yeah, what'cha gonna do? Cry about it? Lmao, pissed? Can't touch this?"
The park trail was perfect for stress relief—a private circuit. A couple with a stroller jumped aside in shock; snatching glimpses of their flustered faces was decent fun.
"Just step aside—makes life better for everyone."
Leaving curses behind, he hit a deserted stretch, only the low motor hum filling the silence.
Sssskk—
A weirdly smooth sound slithered from behind, like a blade on ice. Instinct made his shoulders hunch.
Gut screaming bad vibes, Tae-woong eased on the throttle.
Thumb pressed harder, accelerator maxed.
But the creepy drone didn't fade—it synced with his pace, drawing parallel.
Gulp.
Tension swallowed, eyes flicking down—side-glance caught a black silhouette riding shotgun.
Same model scooter, same speed. It hugged his side precisely, like measured with a ruler.
"Uh, excuse me—I'll pull over, you go ahead."
Tried playing it cool, but his voice shook anyway. No reply. Just wheel whir, running parallel in silence.
What the fuck is this?
Finally turning fully, heart plummeted.
"Wha...?"
No head atop the neatly pressed shirt collar. No jaw, lips, eyes—just empty air over the stiff collar.
A neckless figure, severed clean as if erased from reality, gripped the handlebars. How did a headless thing steer, match his speed? No clue.
Tae-woong's throat locked; words choked.
One thing clear: the thing he'd glimpsed before, the one he'd dismissed as imagination.
"Wh-what the f—"
Then, static buzz from the monster's shirt pocket, a familiar voice:
"Navigation ended. You have arrived at your destination."
Sudden GPS chime—not from Tae-woong's pocket, but the headless driver's.
And in that moment, as if locking eyes—its handlebars wrenched sharply.
"Gaaaaahhh!!!!!!!"