We Welcome Such People

"Aigoo... my back."

He clutched his lower back and stretched long and slow, and a little life crept back into his stiff, aching body.

"That's why I told you not to clean it all yourself. I wish I could've helped."

Ghost chimed in from beside him, and Jaewook just shrugged.

"It's easier doing it alone. If someone else starts moving things around, I just end up not knowing where I put anything."

Anyway, he was more or less done. Soju bottles, beer bottles, and cans stood in neat rows by the shoe cabinet at the entrance — dozens of them, lined up without end, spelling out the shape of last night. Now he just needed to rest a bit, toss those out, and the cleanup would be finished.

"Hey... but I was actually pretty shocked."

"By what?"

"Everyone getting up so early. You all drank a ton. Barely slept. How does everyone still manage to get up like that?"

"Occupational hazard."

Ghost laughed a dry, crumbling little laugh, as if he understood perfectly.

"I really do get it. And look — I'm not putting those people down, not at all. I mean, I take pride in my own work, but... it's not like I'm saying this because that pride's overflowing or anything, it's just, um..."

"I know. It's similar."

"Right?"

Ghost looked grateful that Jaewook had understood, and Jaewook gave a small nod. He knew he could be rude. Knew he had a sharp edge. But he didn't bring that into everyday conversation. The bluntness was reserved for work — for getting things across clearly and keeping things moving. Talk like that in daily life, and it wouldn't be sharpness. It would just be a lack of social skills.

"If you're looking after someone else, you go to bed later than they do and get up earlier. When you're on the move, they can rest and you can't. Same thing. You're right — there's nothing different about it."

"That's... a little embarrassing."

Anyway. Ghost was easy to read. He took pride in the work of being a manager, but it wasn't arrogance. He had opinions, but they weren't particularly strong ones.

Jaewook switched on the robot vacuum and sat down at the dining table. Then he caught himself, stood back up, and pulled out the chair across from him. Ghost sat down in it, prim and proper.

"Something I've been curious about."

"Ask me anything."

"How do you sit in a chair? You go right through walls."

"I don't know? I just... sit. I'm not really sure myself."

"So with walls, you just decide to go through them and whoosh, you're through?"

"That's right. You really are sharp. You figured it out right away."

Anyone else, and Jaewook might have wondered if he was being mocked. With this particular ghost, it was a pure, unfiltered answer — genuine praise, nothing else. He really did like people. And because he liked people, he worried about the company and everyone in it even after he'd collapsed.

Jaewook set the brief exchange aside and opened the laptop waiting on the table. Ghost, already guessing what he was about to do, spoke up with a flushed, eager face.

"I'm... ready. Whew..."

Ready? Yeah. Jaewook was ready too.

Up to now, Ghost had never talked about himself in any real detail. Maybe it was because this ghost was more human than most humans that he'd been circling around it all this time. Assemblyman Choi Giseok and Jaewook had been rolling around in a place that "rough terrain" didn't even begin to cover — a killing field. And with people like that sitting right next to him, all Ghost had managed to say was:

"Please help me... when you... have the time... no, when you have the bandwidth... hh..."

He'd just hovered, fidgeting in circles. Every time Jaewook tried to rest alone, Ghost's mouth would start itching and he'd chatter without a pause — but he could never quite get the important request out.

Jaewook had been the one to propose the deal. It had been a moment when even he thought there was no way through. Then he'd watched Ghost follow him around, slipping in and out of buildings at will, and thought: that's it.

"That building over there. If I get you close, you can go in by yourself, right?"

"Huh? Well... I mean, I can, but... why?"

"Find Candidate Kim Hwantaek's dirty laundry inside. A decisive weakness. Then... I'll grant you a wish."

And Ghost had done it. The wish had been this: become a manager, and save the company that was going under.

Which was why, for the past month, all they'd exchanged was empty chatter — and a deal. And after the deal, Ghost had swallowed down ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his impatience and waited, for Jaewook's sake, through an election that left no room to breathe.

Now it was time to ask.

"I know you were a manager... you said a little over twenty years?"

"Hm? Ah, yes. A full twenty years as a manager."

"And the reason you lie in that bed sleeping like the dead is a car accident?"

"That's right. Whether it was actually a car accident, I don't remember. I came to and my body was lying in a hospital bed, and I was... like this."

Then he smiled again, looking embarrassed. And for no good reason, a little meanness slipped out of Jaewook's mouth.

"Don't smile so much when you're saying certain things. It makes you look like you lack confidence."

"Sorry?"

"It's a weak person's trick. A common one. You know how dogs pant and roll over, showing their belly, asking to be petted? Same thing. You don't need to pretend to be tough — but habitually smiling because you feel weak? That's a bad habit."

"Ah... yes. I understand... hh..."

He smiled again. Habits in people didn't change easily. Jaewook wasn't sure there was much point telling a ghost any of this — but then, Ghost had kept talking to him too, knowing full well he couldn't be heard.

"If you're going to laugh when nothing's funny, at least laugh big."

"Okay..."

Leaving Ghost a little deflated, Jaewook pressed on with the questions, like an interrogation.

"The company I need to get a job at. The one you used to work for. What's the name?"

Ghost's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyes lit up at that — a look touched with longing, even a swell of old feeling.

"Nine Entertainment."

"Nine... Enter... tainment... Hmm."

"Yes. The company I poured everything into. Whether I poured myself into it or just had a great time playing around, I don't really know — but once I became a ghost, the only thing that came to mind was the company."

"Your parents?"

"They passed away. A long time ago."

"I see."

At Jaewook's dry reply, Ghost smiled a faint, knowing smile.

"You really are unusual."

"How so?"

"Normally if you ask something like that and get an answer like that, people apologize. You didn't."

Jaewook asked it right back, resting his chin on his hand for a moment at the table.

"I didn't kill them. Why would I be sorry?"

"Ah... is that how it works?"

These days people liked to sort others into types. People weren't that uniform, but Jaewook did think most of them had a general direction they leaned. And by that measure, he and this ghost seemed to stand at opposite poles. When Jaewook worked, he was goal-oriented. Ghost was always emotional. That didn't mean Jaewook had no feelings. They just ranked their priorities differently.

"You know where your parents' graves are?"

"Hm? Ah... of course I do."

"Then let's go see them tomorrow. After that, we get you a job."

"Ah... thank you..."

"Forget it. Let's get back to the story. No — give me a minute. I want to look something up. Wait there."

Having decided that on his own and left Ghost waiting, Jaewook opened a browser and started searching. And then:

"They were doing well up until three years ago, that's for sure. Nine Entertainment?"

"Yes. And I'm not saying that because I was there. They really were doing well. Best company in the business, on the acting side."

"They had Korea's greatest actress, too. Famous enough that even I knew who she was."

A top star big enough that even Jaewook had heard of her — and Jaewook had lived in near-total cultural ignorance, aside from handling Assemblyman Choi Giseok's legislative work. Which made it all the stranger. That a company doing that well had ended up like this in three years.

He typed in "Nine Entertainment" and started scanning the articles. Most of what came up was this:

Transfers, expired exclusives, departures, terminations — and even that top star from a moment ago had retired. Every article was some version of the same thing.

At some point Ghost had craned his neck in beside him, peering at the laptop screen.

"It's all because of me. Because I never woke up after the accident..."

"I don't think you were that capable."

"You think so? Well. I thought it was strange too. I never imagined the company would end up like this just because I went down..."

"Yeah."

A month had been enough to get a decent read. He'd been buried in the election, so he was only now asking about personal details — but he could tell whether this person had real ability or not. He was just a good person. That was all.

"I don't think I was that capable either, for what it's worth. I see it as a domino thing. Still — I was a director, you know. And then I went down."

"Mm."

"You know how it is. You think it's a useless part, so you pull it out — and then everything goes clatter-clatter-crash. People call it a shit company these days, but I mean it: ours really was like a family. I think that's why."

Jaewook leaned back in his chair and asked it carefully.

"You're not about to attain nirvana on me, are you?"

"Sorry?"

"You know. Those old stories. The magistrate hears the ghost out, the ghost's grudge is resolved, and it goes up to heaven. I was wondering if I'd listen to everything and you'd just... go."

"...I'm still alive. I've said this more than once. I'm not actually a ghost."

"Right. We'll go with that, then. Go on."

"No, that's enough. You're right. That isn't what actually matters right now."

"Then what does actually matter?"

At that, Ghost went back to the chair across the table and sat down. He looked Jaewook up and down. Then, in a tone of carefully manufactured gravity, he opened his mouth.

"You're overqualified."

Huh? Jaewook's brow furrowed before he could stop it.

"These days on the singer side — the entertainment companies that have gone public — they look at resumes and pick through everything. But companies that specialize in actors aren't at that level yet. Not that they hire criminals or anything, but..."

"Overqualified. So you're saying my aide experience is the problem?"

"Yes. If they were filling a top seat, maybe, but Nine Entertainment is absolutely not in a position to do that right now. And on top of that, Jaewook, your background isn't even entertainment-related..."

Hm. He hadn't thought of that. He'd never considered a job in another field — but he also hadn't lived as if he couldn't get one. He could have gone into a conglomerate headquarters and taken government-relations work. Consulting for politicians was, broadly speaking, marketing, and that door was open too. Some of the political aides who'd failed to land on their feet — the so-called accidental civil servants — had found their way that way. He hadn't studied law, but with a long career ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the National Assembly, the legislative body itself, he could have worked in a legal team.

Even an entertainment company hadn't struck him as particularly different. Ghost had specifically said manager, but management work could include government relations — and even if he were assigned to an individual, the idea that he, with ten shining years as an aide, wouldn't get hired had never once entered his head.

He glanced sideways, gauging Ghost's reaction.

"They don't need legal counsel over there?"

"Why would a company that's going under need legal counsel? And even when we were doing well, we just hired out case by case. We never had an in-house team. We had a lawyer we were close with."

"What about at the Team Leader level, then...?"

"Like I said a minute ago — you don't have experience on our side. Honestly, if it were one of the big companies, they'd invent a position just to scout someone at your level. Nine Entertainment is not in that situation. Not even close."

He was all fumbly and vague, but when it comes to this kind of talk, he's sharp as a knife.

"Then we sell the ability. I put on the resume that I'm a former Grade 4 Chief Aide from Assemblyman Choi Giseok's office — they'd know what that means, wouldn't they? The management ability that got a four-term assemblyman elected? I don't love the idea, but a promise is a promise, so I'll put together a portfolio if I have to. The work I did during my years as an aide. That kind of thing."

"They absolutely won't hire you. No — they can't hire you. A National Assembly aide, and a Grade 4 Chief Aide at that? Even an entertainment company knows that much. How serious a person that is. A few searches and it all comes up."

"So? If I don't get hired, I tried. I submitted a resume and they wouldn't take me. No — they couldn't take me. That's it? Does that count as the wish being granted?"

He shot it back with more feeling in his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠voice than he'd meant to. No. Become a manager, Ghost had said. Save my company. Fine. Jaewook had said he would — and now Ghost was telling him he wouldn't get hired? None of it lined up. If that was the case, he could at least offer an alternative.

At Jaewook's question, Ghost put on that faint smile again — the weak person's smile Jaewook had just called out. A bad feeling crawled up Jaewook's spine. An alternative. Don't tell me.

"If you're thinking of asking the Assemblyman to pull strings for a job, absolutely—"

"Now, Jaewook. Forget that glittering past of yours. Since it's come to this, start as a new man."

"What?"

He'd skipped every link in the chain. What was that supposed to mean? Jaewook couldn't have said why, but he really wanted to smack him.