The Thing on the Ceiling

Kang Hyeong-seok hung up, narrowed his eyes, and let a sigh escape through his nose. What on earth is this about?

Honestly, he'd been hoping to call it a day right from the field and head straight home, so a summons from the executive director was the last thing he wanted. Worse still, word that Department Head Kwak Young-ho was there too left him with an oddly uneasy feeling.

Parking in the public lot beside the cafe, he slammed the car door and pushed through BenePia's front door.

"Assistant Manager Kang! Over here!"

Shin Chang-yong, seated across from Kwak Young-ho at a table he'd claimed for the occasion, greeted him with a face brimming with apology.

"I'm the one who's been rude here. No — do you have any idea how soundly my wife chewed me out?"

So Shin Jeong-ah really had gone ahead and called her aunt — the executive director's wife. Having confirmed the fallout had landed squarely on Shin Chang-yong, Kang Hyeong-seok took the seat beside Kwak Young-ho, feeling sheepish.

"I'm sorry, sir. I never dreamed that phone call would turn into all that."

"Oh, never mind. I'm an old-timer — I blunder like this every now and then. You'll just have to bear with me."

"No, no, sir, please don't."

The bloodline ran true, all right. The sheepish look on the man's face as he apologized was a dead ringer for Shin Jeong-ah, and it wrung a cold sweat out of him. He shot Kwak Young-ho a look begging for rescue, but the man simply wore an inscrutable little smile and kept nodding along.

"Well, you can't come to a cafe and skip the coffee. What will you have?"

"I'll go get it, sir."

"No need. Department Head Kwak — take this card and buy the man something nice and cold."

"Yes, sir."

With Kwak Young-ho dispatched to fetch the coffee, Kang Hyeong-seok felt very much as though he were sitting on a bed of nails. Shin Chang-yong, for his part, went on beaming at him with a look that was nothing but apologetic and grateful.

"Tsk, tsk. Ah, dear me." Shin Chang-yong took a slow sip of his coffee, as though his throat had gone dry.

Clink.

By the time Kwak Young-ho returned with the cup, Shin Chang-yong was already drawing an envelope from inside his jacket.

"It's a small thing, but do accept it."

"Oh no, sir — I couldn't."

"Don't make a fuss, just tuck it away. They're gift certificates."

"Gift certificates, sir...?"

"It's not as if I'd know how to use them anyway. Just think of them as today's overtime pay and keep them."

Tap.

While Kang Hyeong-seok hovered, unable to bring himself to reach out, Kwak Young-ho's foot found his shoe under the table and nudged it. The message was clear: just take it.

"Then I'll accept them with thanks."

It was no small thing, this. Accepting an envelope of gift certificates handed over by an executive director in person. Feeling an envelope of gift certificates this thick between his fingers.

"And while we're at it — Department Head Kwak. You ought to have told me straight out, from the very beginning, that it was a bad idea. I'm the only one who got scolded for nothing."

"I'm sorry, sir. But this fellow here, you see — he stepped up and volunteered to go, cool as anything."

"Is that so?"

It was then that Shin Chang-yong shifted his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gaze from Kwak Young-ho to Kang Hyeong-seok.

"He's a rare find, the way things are these days. I lean on him a great deal myself."

"Hmm."

Shin Chang-yong's eyes on Kang Hyeong-seok grew steadily more serious, and Kwak Young-ho, as if he had been waiting for exactly this moment, kept the praise rolling. "His competence, the way he handles his work — and his devotion to the company alone puts him ahead of most section chiefs, even deputy general managers."

"Oh? Is that so?"

Shin Chang-yong had been one of the company's founding members. Which was perhaps why Kwak Young-ho's report — capable, and fiercely loyal on top of it — seemed to delight him immensely.

"I'll see to it that he's groomed properly, sir."

"You there. How long have you been with the company?"

"Coming up on three years, sir."

The answer drew a look of keen regret from the executive. "A shame, that. If only you had a few more years of experience behind you..."

"Exactly what I keep telling myself, sir."

"Groom him well, Department Head Kwak."

"Understood, sir."

"Well, I've handed over what I came to hand over, so I'll be on my way. Oh — and Assistant Manager Kang."

"Yes, sir."

Seeing Kang Hyeong-seok rise to see him off, Shin Chang-yong waved him back down into his seat with a smile.

"You've suffered for an old man's nonsense. I keep forgetting the times have changed. My apologies."

"No — no, sir, not at all."

"Keep up the good work at the company. I'll be watching over you as well."

As Shin Chang-yong made for the door, the cafe owner's "Thank you, come again" trailed after him.

In the cafe, gone suddenly quiet, Kang Hyeong-seok fingered the envelope and met Kwak Young-ho's eyes.

"What exactly did you tell him, sir?"

"What, was I supposed to just sit there with my mouth shut? And I'd say I put my name on the line for you properly, too."

"Thank you, sir."

"Oh, and that thing — there's a shoe repair shop just up the street. Take them there and they'll cash them out for you. Minus ten percent. Maybe twenty, something like that."

Curiosity flickered over Kwak Young-ho's face — how much was in there, exactly? The envelope was thick, and Shin Chang-yong had prepared it personally, so anyone would wonder at the sum.

Rustle.

Kang Hyeong-seok eased the envelope open a crack. Inside lay gift certificates, stiff and crisp despite their somewhat dated issue stamps — a mix of 100,000-won and 50,000-won notes that had to come to at least 500,000 won at a glance.

"Not a bad overtime bonus. Spend it well, Assistant Manager Kang." Kwak Young-ho kneaded his shoulder, delighted as though he were the one who'd been paid.

"Get home safe, then! I'm off as well."

"Sir, I should probably—"

"What work could there be at this hour? Just go home."

The hour was admittedly an odd one to be leaving. Still, no one could deny it was a slack stretch of the day. Clutching the envelope as though it were something precious, Kang Hyeong-seok bowed his head to Kwak Young-ho as the man stepped out of the cafe.

Clatter.

Threading clothes out of a cardboard box onto hangers and hanging them one by one on the rack, Shin Jeong-ah rolled her aching shoulders. "Oof, this is brutal."

She clicked her tongue and fingered the pack of cigarettes in her pocket — though she didn't pull one out — and instead surveyed the boxes crowding the room. Too many clothes. Strange, how it always felt like she had nothing to wear, yet whenever she had to sort through it all like this, the sheer volume of it choked the breath right out of her.

Tsk.

Should she have asked Kang Hyeong-seok to stay and help a while longer? She turned it over for a moment, then gave a rueful smile and shook her head. She had far too much personal baggage, and she wasn't so shameless as to make a man she'd only just met sort through her clothes.

Maybe I'll just live like this for a while.

The boxes would sort themselves out eventually — that was what living was for. She'd already set aside tomorrow's work outfit and packed her bag, so there was no need to push herself any harder tonight. No — let me at least get the clothes hung. Otherwise they'll wrinkle. With a conflicted look on her face, Shin Jeong-ah hung the clothes on the rack one after another. Out-of-season pieces went into vacuum packs shoved beneath the rack, and her shoes were stacked in tidy rows in the shoe cabinet.

A little more. Just a little more. But as she worked, she felt her eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Nodding off where she stood, she gave an enormous yawn and tucked a cushion under her head. Just a quick nap. I can finish the rest at dawn.

It wasn't that she was ignoring Kang Hyeong-seok's instruction to sleep in the main room. But this wasn't really sleeping, after all. Treating it as no more than a brief rest, she turned off only the light and slipped into a shallow doze.

It was around the time the clock crept past one in the morning.

Pat-pat-pat-pat.

A noise from above shattered Shin Jeong-ah's rest. "Mmnngh..." She groaned and rolled over, but before long the sound came again. Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat. Somehow different from footsteps. Her bleary eyes fluttered faintly open — and then she saw the source of the sound.

The dead of night. A black ceiling. And clinging to that ceiling, something.

Huh...?

Instinct sealed Shin Jeong-ah's mouth shut. Because the thing on the ceiling was shaped like a person.

Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat. Pressed flat against the ceiling, it crawled toward the door. And all the while, Shin Jeong-ah could not so much as blink as she watched it go. What is that thing? A premonition had taken hold of her: the instant she blinked, it would come for her. She couldn't even afford an audible breath, yet the thing went on roaming the ceiling all the same.

Pat-pat. The noise, it turned out, was the slap of its palms against the ceiling. Using its two arms alone, it scuttled across the ceiling as fast as if it were crossing a floor. Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat. It slid out through the open doorway and was gone, and Shin Jeong-ah gulped down a dry swallow, dragging quick, ragged breaths through her nose.

Was it gone? Sleep paralysis, from the strange new room? Or just some viciously vivid nightmare? She was in the middle of trying to force her fear-frozen body to move when —

PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT!

It came swarming back at speed, wheeling around the ceiling in one huge loop. Just as the terror — enough to drive her out of her mind — had Shin Jeong-ah sucking soundless breaths through her faintly parted lips, thump. The thing pushed off the ceiling with one hand and raised its upper body. Directly above Shin Jeong-ah.

Hanging upside down like a bat, it reached out toward her and lifted its head. And so, slowly, its face drew closer to hers. A face blackened with rot, festered and rank. Skin split and crazed as though it had been hacked at with knives. Where its eyes should have been there was nothing at all — only some nameless worm seething inside the hollows.

Sway. Sway. Sway.

Flat on the floor, Shin Jeong-ah had no choice but to stare up at the thing as it swung like a pendulum. The slightest sound, she was certain, and it would lunge for her.

Sway. Sway. Sway. Fingers dangling just above her eyes, swinging and swinging. After watching it for what felt like an eternity, Shin Jeong-ah's consciousness gave out, as if she had fainted. Even then, the thing clung to the ceiling for a long while longer before it finally vanished with a last patter.

"Good morning."

Arriving early as ever, Kang Hyeong-seok immediately swept the office with a glance. Section Chief Shin isn't in yet? There were fifteen minutes left before official start time. Expecting her any moment, he opened his bag and laid out what he needed, item by item. He powered on his monitor, and by the time he'd come back with his tumbler filled with coffee, Assistant Manager Lee Jin-pyeong and Namgoong Min-ah had arrived as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠well. He'd barely finished a round of quick greetings when Shin Jeong-ah walked in with Kwak Young-ho.

"Everyone's in early, I see. Say hello, everyone — this is Section Chief Shin Jeong-ah, newly joined."

Standing beside Kwak Young-ho, Shin Jeong-ah dipped her head. "I'm Shin Jeong-ah. I look forward to working with you all."

Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap!

The department members welcomed her with applause, Kwak Young-ho clapping first of all.

"Assistant Manager Kang, why don't you show her around the company? That all right with you?"

"Yes, sir."

Kang Hyeong-seok was the only one who already knew her face. Which was why Shin Jeong-ah, too, wore a quietly grateful expression as he rose from his chair.

"Fax machine and the copier are over there. I'll send you your intranet ID and password over messenger later on."

"Got it. And where do we keep A4 paper?"

"Usually under the copier. If it's out, Assistant Manager Lee Jin-pyeong or I restock it. If there's none, just say the word to me."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Got it. I'll be counting on you."

There was an odd listlessness in her voice. Kang Hyeong-seok, who had been about to lead her to the pantry, paused and studied her, brow furrowing.

"What?"

"Were you up late unpacking last night?"

"No, no. I just slept terribly."

"You did sleep in the main room, though — right?"

"Oh. Right."

At the reminder of what Kang Hyeong-seok had told her, a spark of life returned to Shin Jeong-ah's eyes. "You said yesterday that the small room smelled like paint. Maybe that was it — I couldn't sleep properly. I kept having nightmares."

Remembering the night before, Shin Jeong-ah pressed her thumbs firmly against the corners of her eyes, where exhaustion and irritation mingled.

"...You slept in the small room?"

"I was so busy sorting clothes, it slipped my mind."

Kang Hyeong-seok pressed his lower lip under his teeth and glanced around the office. Everyone was absorbed in their own work. "Let me show you the pantry, then. There's an espresso machine in there — the controls are a bit of a puzzle. Come with me."

Without a flicker of suspicion, Shin Jeong-ah followed him into the pantry. It was working hours, so the room stood empty. And so it was that, hands fiddling with the espresso machine, Kang Hyeong-seok rubbed the corner of his eye.

Yeongan — the eye that sees ghosts. He had once been unable to control the power at all; now he wielded it completely at will. Through the Yeongan, he turned to look at Shin Jeong-ah.

"Nothing complicated about it. I've used one of these before," she was saying — but her words weren't reaching him. Shin Jeong-ah ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was staring blankly at the espresso machine, knowing nothing at all.

Because directly behind her, he could see it. A hag-like lesser spirit, strangling her with its loose, unbound hair.