The Lust Ghost's Menace
The third Lust Ghost warning came from a female manager from another agency whom I'd been exchanging greetings with on set.
After wrapping up filming, we had a casual after-party, but I skipped the drinks since I had to drive. Toward the end, as she got a little tipsy, she slid in next to me with a sly, inviting look in her eyes.
"Haaang~ It's such an awkward time to grab a cab. Mind giving me a ride, Jinho?"
Her clumsy attempt at flirting was oddly cute. Her place wasn't far from the company, so I figured it wouldn't make me too late and told her sure. I could just drop my stuff at the office anyway—no big deal if I was a bit late.
I let her hop in the passenger seat, and we chatted about this and that as I drove. We arrived sooner than expected.
"Thanks, Jinho. Hey... wanna come up for a drink? Or ramen's fine too. I can even put on Netflix for us."
She laid it all out there in one go. Her intentions were crystal clear, but I was tempted to play along anyway—
Here we go again. Why did it only show up at the crucial moments to cockblock me? Were you some bitter spinster ghost who'd died a virgin and now haunted my thriving sex life out of spite?
Wait—ghost?
"Jinho... what's wrong? You look scared."
"Oh, sorry. I just remembered something urgent I gotta handle."
Once that voice said no, there was no pushing further. I made up an excuse about an emergency and headed back to the company to search for fortune tellers.
This could actually be a real ghost, right?
I filtered out promo ads and skipped the irrelevant horoscopes and fortune slips. Focusing on shamans who claimed to detect evil spirits, communicate with them, coax them out, and send them to the afterlife, I narrowed down some options.
"You've got a nasty one attached. Get rid of it quick, or you'll get hurt bad. A cleansing ritual..."
"This is an amulet to banish ghosts..."
"How dare you come in here with that crap! I'll smash it to pieces..."
Even ignoring the ones pushing rituals or amulets, every place had a different fix. Explaining a sex-blocking ghost was embarrassing enough—I tried playing it cool, but their reactions made me feel like a lunatic begging for scraps. Reality hit hard. What the hell was I doing?
"Haaang... ugh. Too... rough... haaaang! Slow down a bit, huaaang...!"
My intense sessions with noona were my only escape. If that voice had tried to block her too, I'd have lost my mind ages ago.
"Haa... haa... Why're you so full of energy lately? Keep pounding like this, and noona's pussy'll wear out. Gotta save some if you wanna keep using it long-term."
Her whiny complaint came with a cute pout, but she must've been exhausted. It wasn't like venting to her fixed anything, though it left me feeling guilty anyway.
"You've got something bothering you, right? You always go extra hard during sex when you're stressed. What's up?"
It was too unbelievable even for me to confess to her. Still, on a whim, I asked if she knew any good fortune tellers.
"I wanna get my fortune read. Nothing's specifically wrong, but now that I'm working, I'm curious about my future. That stuff tells you about that, right?"
"Hmm... I have a noona who checks fortunes a lot. Lemme ask her. Something about a mystical fairy, I think? Not really my thing."
"Even celebrities do fortune telling?"
"Kid, you have no idea how many people are dead serious about that stuff. You know they do pig-head offerings before filming movies? Does that make a flop hit big? Everyone knows it's bullshit, but they still bow and slip cash in the envelope. Better than sitting around anxious."
Makes sense—movies hadn't even started shooting, yet prayers begged for break-even points and ten million viewers. That's the industry.
"Some actors check their success fortunes before picking scripts. Saw one stuffing amulets in her shoe insoles."
"People in this biz are secretly superstitious, huh."
"It's like gambling. Blockbuster or bust. But does our baby believe in fortunes too?"
"Nah, the only thing I believe in is sex."
"What?"
The place noona recommended was a famous spot for politicians, businessmen, and celebs. Something about the Eight Fairies Baby Buddha—not sure the name mattered. Point was, regular folks couldn't even book it.
Waiting in the lounge, the door opposite swung open. A lady decked head-to-toe in luxury brands stumbled out in tears, repeating "Thank you, Fairy Lady!" nonstop. Guess she got what she wanted.
They called my name. I steeled myself and opened the door. Gaudy mismatched wall paintings, a tacky general statue, and in the center sat a young woman in hanbok with a baby face.
I started to bow my head, but she looked up. Our eyes met. No change in my expression, but hers went sheet-white, her body trembling.
"L-Lust... Ghost..."
Lust Ghost?
The air shifted instantly. An icy touch caressed my neck. Goosebumps exploded across my skin, but my voice wouldn't come. She was terrified too.
Something snakelike slithered over my shoulder. Invisible, but slimy disgust coated my body. Moments later, the woman clawed at her throat, writhing in agony. Something was strangling her.
—Keh, kek. Guh... guuuuh!
Foam bubbled from her mouth as she convulsed for seconds, then collapsed, eyes rolled back white. Horror movie shit. I don't spook easy, but right then, pure terror screamed get the fuck out.
I bolted from the room, not looking back. How far I ran, I don't know—collapsed in an empty lot, legs giving out. I hit the ground staring at the sky. Filthy clear blue, goddamn it.
Back home, I ignored noona's worried texts asking what happened and just stared at the ceiling.
Karma for treating my dick like a toy? Curse from a girl I turned down? Face so hot even ghosts can't resist? Wild thoughts swirled, but one conclusion: Something ridiculous is watching over me.
Whatever made that shaman freak was screening my sex partners exclusively. How the hell do you explain this absurd mess? And why block my fucks? Couldn't it just greenlight 'em sometimes? Like, when tempted, a cocky She's good—pound away?
Tried laughing it off, but the creeping dread won. I broke down sobbing, choking gasps. No reason—just pathetic, getting hit with this bullshit.
How long did I sleep?
Forcing heavy eyelids open, noona sat there worried. Thought it was a hallucination at first, but she smiled, kissed my cheek as I woke.
Said she'd come straight over when I ghosted her messages.
"Don't say a word. I won't ask. Our baby's been through it."
Confirmed I was okay, she ordered delivery and left. Thank god—she knew her cooking was poison.
Next day at work, Team Leader Bang rarely chewed me out. Fair—no call, no show. Deserved a write-up.
Seeing my half-dead face, he grumbled about being careful next time and let the write-up slide. Who knew his nagging could drag on.
A day's rest brought calm. Don't know what it is? Play safe till clues turn up. It only meddled with sex picks—no other interference. Stick to that, daily life stays safe.
Lust? Dump it on noona. Steel myself against temptresses, swat away advances firm. No hesitation, no waffling.
As expected, clear rejection shut the voice up. No need to warn if I handled it first. But would it tip me off on prime pussy?
Heading back from meeting a writer at the station, traffic flowed smooth—hit the company early. Newbie me would've gone straight to the office; now I had a better spot.
Team Leader Bang was great, looked out for me—but that nonstop chatter? Unbearable.
Dodged team chit-chat like pros, but as the maknae, I had no escape. Endured it till finding this workaround. Ears were gonna bleed otherwise.
Fourth floor: dance practice rooms for the idol team. Women's heavy traffic meant the men's restroom stayed dead quiet. Perfect hideout for games or webtoons.
Heading there now, some woman approached from the opposite hall.
Figured trainee or staff, gave a slight nod to pass—then she stopped right in front of me.
"Um... could you give me an autograph?"