Haunted House Experience 1
Hyeon-a had told me a lot about Vtubers, which weren't exactly mainstream, but the paths available to kids who failed to become idols weren't limited to just that. For those who couldn't dance well, there were vocal guides or covers of songs they were confident in. For those weak in singing, dance covers with their slim figures. Even in idol life, there were times when they had to perform music they didn't like and expose their weaknesses unavoidably, but YouTube videos let them maximize their strengths. If they'd been trainees, they at least had the basics in singing and dancing, so the point was to surprise people: "Oh, I thought she was just good at dancing, but her singing is pretty decent too."
That was the usual route, but Hyeon-a agonized over creating a slight differentiation from the norm. Instead of the standard skills everyone learned, she pushed into areas like comedy, camping, or fishing. In her view, since active idols were already dominating singing and dancing, it made more sense to compete with fishermen than with them. Of course, she also supported unconventional paths like reading ghost stories or voice acting challenges. Among them, the most unique kid said,
"Um, I want to become a ghost hunter!"
"Ghost... what?"
"Ghost hunter! You know, going to abandoned houses and haunted spots to check if ghosts are really there."
While counseling each failed idol trainee one-on-one about their future, Hyeon-a looked up in shock at the unexpected declaration. She'd heard kids earnestly say they wanted to learn cooking or even make money streaming Excel tutorials before retiring, but a ghost hunter? That was a first.
"You're going to wander those places alone? That's way more dangerous than you think. For starters, have you ever seen a woman among those ghost hunters?"
"That's why if a female idol trainee does it, wouldn't it be super popular?"
"If women were succeeding at it, there'd already be a few out there. It's dangerous."
"I saw it on YouTube. There were three women going around Japan and stuff."
Hyeon-a paused when the kid mentioned people she knew well. Sure, there was a massively reliable presence backing them up from behind, but on video, it was just the three women visible. Still, explaining that would be pointless—they'd never believe it. It was too unbelievable anyway.
"Doesn't matter. An underage kid who can't even drive can't just go out like that. Once you get popular, it'll just be occasional content for collabs anyway."
"Can't I just request a collab and go with them?"
"No way. What was the job of the people you saw?"
Trying to collab half-jokingly with professionals who took their videos seriously was utterly clueless. The girl knew that too, so she didn't push further, but the kid's eyes suggested she wouldn't give up easily. Hyeon-a could already picture the future. Even if she tried to dissuade her, from the kid's perspective, it just felt like opposition for opposition's sake. She let it drop, suggested considering other options, and sent her out.
"Haa..."
Dealing with people was exhausting, regardless of age or gender. This was their life on the line—they approached it dead seriously—but the kids were lukewarm. Did they think they were young with endless options? Even to a senior who'd succeeded, it wasn't easy.
"Tough, huh?"
"Yeah. I started this to help map out their futures... but it's not simple."
"Can't be helped. They've lived fixated on one dream, so they can't easily admit failure."
The famous counselor she'd hired separately smiled and handed over her coffee. She said giving weird answers was a way to tap into adolescent avoidance psychology. When hit with major life failure, kids might explode emotionally, avoid it, or downplay it as trivial. So, approaches had to vary by case.
"How do I convince a kid like the one just now?"
"Textbook-wise, it'd fill a whole chapter... but the easiest way is to let her experience how brutally hard it is firsthand."
"Experience, huh."
"Shoes feel comfy in the store, but after two days, you realize they're not and return them or break them in. Same idea."
Sipping the warm coffee, Hyeon-a mulled over the experiential learning idea. The best would be to ask the actual YouTubers in question, but she wasn't thrilled. She knew better than anyone that woman wasn't easy to handle. Appearance and personality inversely proportional—the saying fit her perfectly. They'd gotten close purely out of her interest, shedding all her top-idol-actress labels at the time.
Could that girl spark interest in her little sister? "Doesn't seem likely at all."
"Pardon?"
"No, nothing. My little sister would be perfect for the experience, but her personality is ridiculously picky."
"How picky?"
"Like the old saying about a fox spirit with hundreds inside. Or someone with the mental age of over a hundred."
Hyeon-a chuckled even as she said it, and the counselor laughed along. The counselor's interest was purely professional, of course.
—Being a ghost hunter or shaman living off haunted and abandoned house experiences was incredibly tough. Their biggest threat was limited resources. Haunted or abandoned houses were just places people didn't live in, and the government's recent policy was to renovate or demolish rural eyesores. Ghosts needed houses to haunt, and houses were needed for experiences. Now, only spots without owner or heir consent remained. As explorers went global, one from that world visited me after ages.
"Long time no see."
It was Park Soo, the shaman who'd gotten scolded hard for shoving a camera in my face back then and somewhat curbed the habit. Blessed with a very minor spirit, she mostly did talismans but leveraged her unique flair into the influencer scene. Total on-off personality.
Not someone I welcomed, I gestured indifferently to the sofa.
"Coffee? Tea?"
"Just a glass of cold water, please. My heart's still pounding from something big recently."
"Pulling aggro like that won't get you my time."
"Sorry about back then. Who knew you'd hate cameras?"
"I hate it more from people I know."
I signaled my employee—who'd stood at the guest's arrival—to sit back down. No need to waste her time helping her brother when this was a lightweight.
"I heard there were no decent houses left in Korea, but you're still hanging around domestically?"
"Korean ghosts need Korean shamans working here—what would I do abroad?"
"Aigoo, what happened to that bold Park Soo shaman? You look so deflated."
"Eh, various things."
People seeking shamans weren't usual folk believers—they were psychologically cornered. Discerning clients was a skill, and chasing off creepy ones was part of the job. Get beans thrown at you right away at a shaman house, or get yelled at to leave? Check a mirror first.
"Various things? You found a body while scouting abandons—made the news."
"Body's just prayer for a smooth passing. This is stickier."
I grimaced as she reached into her pants pocket. Too obvious she was about to dump work on me. Just as shamans honed client-picking, running a detective agency had shown me too many slyly offloading jobs.
"Don't pull that out."
"C'mon, it's been ages—cut me some slack."
"Coming empty-handed after ages? Doomed from the start. Even broke folks bring a case of vitamin drinks. Tsk."
"Hands light, but bag's heavy."
She pulled a thick white envelope from her handbag and slid it across the desk—skipping bank transfer to flaunt the cash, catering to my old habit of liking tangible payment. If it was fat, I'd hear her out. Pure capitalist thinking—I relaxed, leaning into the plush sofa. Then she finally drew out the pocket photo.
"Snapped this during a recent stream. Uploading as-is would be disastrous, and you're the only great shaman I know."
I glanced at Baek-ho lounging contentedly by the sunlit window and set it before me. It was a room in some abandon: a crudely drawn image of a woman in hanbok, scrawled in chalk and paint. All one color—blood red.