Haunted House Experience 2
With the face cropped out, it was impossible to assume the figure in the painting was a woman just because she was dressed in women's hanbok. Judging ghosts by human standards was about the dumbest thing imaginable. After all, didn't they say spirits acted the opposite of people? Sticking to conventional views was a surefire way to court disaster. This field might actually be the most open-minded, packed with so-called enlightened folks.
"The painting's awful. Why not use a variety of colors?"
"Creating diverse shades with just reds is a skill in itself, isn't it? Heh heh."
His words were laced with thorns despite the casual tone. Even just looking at the photo made him uneasy; he grimaced like he couldn't stand another glance. Though the broadcast-worthy expression control was starting to seep in, his raw emotions still leaked through. He was still a shaman at heart.
"So what do you expect me to do about this?"
I tossed the photo in front of him, and he recoiled slightly, upper body pulling back as if he'd spotted filth. His reluctance to get tangled up in something like that was crystal clear.
"I saw it in person, and now it keeps showing up in my dreams. I'm huddled under a crumbling wall with a gap at the bottom, body folded as tight as possible, when I hear slow dragging footsteps approaching from over there."
"And?"
"If I peek out from curiosity, there's this bright red skirt swaying up and down with light steps, like it's hopping around searching for something—just like whatever's in that painting."
"Lucky you didn't get spotted."
"I was right under the wall. I've prayed to my gods, tried everything, but I can't escape that dream. Sleeping's become pure torture."
No wonder I'd noticed subtle eye makeup when he first walked in. I'd thought he was finally adopting the signature look of a hand-clapping shaman, but there was another reason.
"Why come to me, a non-shaman? Plenty of people see spirits way better than I do."
"You've heard the rumors going around our circle lately, right? If you're looking for the strongest aura in Korea, head to this agency."
"What the hell kind of rumors...?"
Even though he was way older than me, he always used formal speech—probably stemming from that. Back when we first met ages ago, he hadn't been quite so deferential.
"Strong aura or not, you know I can't do anything about it."
"Just having someone with a strong presence go there with you is usually enough to drive it off."
"You're bringing a camera."
"Come on... But I've seen you filming stuff for YouTube lately too, boss?"
"That's just to show everything because people are so suspicious these days. With all the scammers out there, who can blame them?"
As soon as filming came up, the manager—who'd been eavesdropping while wrapping up her work—turned her head slightly. With the algorithm's blessings fading, she needed one last hook to pull viewers in: something buzzworthy. Bonus points if it involved a haunted house experience. But the final call was mine, so she scratched her chin, pondering.
"This one's too gruesome; no way I'm filming it. What if it jumps through the signal like in those Japanese horror flicks? Heh heh."
"Says the guy who believes in ghosts."
At least I'd gotten a solid promise not to shove a camera in my face. I'd been thinking it was about time for a tax-audit-worthy commission anyway.
"So, will you come along?"
"If the pay's right."
"Money's no object—name your price. A full-blown major ritual good enough?"
A "major ritual" started at 200 million won base. Even well-off families balked at that for one event; it was the kind reserved for corporate bashes or village-wide fundraisers for big occasions.
"That much cash? Must've saved up hard."
"Not just video shoots—I've been branching into all sorts of gigs lately. Heh heh."
I knew full well the high-paying jobs weren't exactly legit, so I hesitated before thinking, What's wrong with the money itself? and taking it. As he rummaged in his bag for the address and building photos, the manager—who'd been sitting far off—sneaked up and snatched the ominous pics I'd set aside. Spiritually speaking, I had no clue, but she always struck me as fearless around this stuff. Most people would steer clear after hearing "bad vibes."
"Mind if I film this? Nothing long—just a quick 'this case happened' segment, ten minutes tops. No faces, of course."
"Doesn't bother me..."
I shot him a look that said your boss's opinion matters more, and their eyes turned to me. I nodded okay—as long as it was just my voice.
I'd seen a few clips where people twisted reflections off reflectors to ID my face. Judging something so distorted it barely resembled features had left a weird pit in my stomach.
"Doesn't bother me either, so do your usual thing."
"Taking that as a yes from both. Heh heh."
Grinning happily, she spun back to her seat, clearly scheming how to spice up this footage. The shaman stared at her retreating back until she sat, then lowered his voice.
"She's impressive. Where'd you find her?"
"No idea. She just kinda came bundled with the deal..."
His connections as an ex-cop were handy, so when he asked if his sister could join, I'd said sure. As he claimed, having them together made things smoother—no need to touch taxes or finances; she handled it all flawlessly.
"She's got real talent, though."
"...Yeah, she does."
The shaman sensed it too and nodded quickly.
—
It was pure timing. While waiting a few days for his brother's job to wrap, her sister reached out first. In thanks for helping secure safe entry into the new building, she suggested grabbing dinner. I headed to a quiet Western-style spot with a light heart. Private rooms separated each table so diners wouldn't see each other; we ordered drinks and light bites. Since we'd both driven, we agreed to save the booze for next time—no big loss.
"What's up with you, sis? You've been so slammed lately, hard to even catch a glimpse."
"We had that dinner promise, and things have been going too smoothly since moving in—grateful for that. Just combining them."
"Really?"
"Any business hits rough patches early on, but nothing's cropped up—it's almost worrying. Incidents are best early; they sharpen your vigilance."
Guiding idol trainees with no real shot wasn't easy. You'd expect some to rebel or lash out from resentment, but none had. Maybe the initial personality screening weeded them out.
"Glad it's going well. When I started the agency solo, taxes gave me such headaches. So many eyes glaring, waiting for a slip-up."
"Thanks to you—great spot you hooked me up with."
We sipped alcohol-free drinks that tasted boozy, chatting idly until she glanced at me cautiously and broached it.
"What've you been up to? That YouTube stuff?"
"Got a job tomorrow or the next day. Guy saw a painting in a haunted house; now it's haunting him, can't sleep."
"Solo?"
"Nah, with the client. He's a YouTuber who hunts haunted spots."
"Oh ho."
I paused for another sip. Not drunk, but the cool room and fuzzy vibe made me receptive to whatever.
"Can I bring one of my kids along for the experience?"
"Kid?"
"She wants to film abandoned/haunted house vids for YouTube, but I'm against it."
"She's a weird one. What's appealing about those places?"
"Right? One big scare might fix her, but who can I trust?"
"Asked any ghost hunters? They do collabs on public TV."
"Thought of that first, but circumstances didn't align. Minor and ex-trainee—too risky for everyone."
Fair enough—no one drags minors into ruins without guarantees they're empty. You could stumble on a body; no good exposing kids to that.
"So safer with me?"
"Yeah. Sounds like four of us total. Seeing the painting means they've already explored."
"Hmm..."
"...No good?"
Anyone else, I'd brush off—but owing a close sis a small favor wasn't bad.
"No reason not to."