The Long Road Home and Emerging Shadows
The anomaly stretched from Jeju Island all the way to Seoul. A grueling journey lasting over ten hours. By the time I reached the neighborhood near my place, it was well past 2 a.m. A dim slum where even the streetlights flickered faintly. My nest was a dilapidated rooftop room teetering precariously atop steep concrete stairs.
Exhausting. My body felt like it weighed a ton. Probably from the long boat ride—my stomach was still churning. I dragged myself up the concrete stairs.
"Suho, young man, you haven't been around these past few days. Finally back?"
A voice popped out of the darkness, nearly stopping my heart. I turned to see Mrs. Kim, the landlady from downstairs. She stood there with arms crossed, staring up at me intently.
"Ah... yes. Hello. I had to head out to the provinces for a bit."
"Provinces? Well, it's good that a young guy like you is busy."
Mrs. Kim narrowed her eyes and held out her palm.
"You know what day it is, right?"
"Ah."
"Can't let rent slide. You were a day late last month too. You young folks these days have no sense of money management—it's a real problem."
Her nagging hit without pause for breath. I swallowed a bitter smile and pulled out my phone.
"Sorry. I'll send it right now."
"That's right. Gotta respect other people's money if you want to succeed."
Transfer Complete
Her expression softened only after the deposit notification chimed.
"Got it. Tsk, at least you're out there earning. Don't waste your time—get your act together and live right. Sleep when others sleep, work when they work. That's how you escape being a broke loser."
"...Yes, I'll keep that in mind. Good night."
"Yeah. Lock up tight."
Mrs. Kim unloaded her piece and marched back inside. The door slammed with an echoing bang.
I stared blankly for a moment, then resumed climbing the stairs.
Don't you have any pride?
Bowing your head to trash like that. Not even a spark of anger.
What choice do I have? I replied flatly as I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
I'm the little guy here. If I piss her off and get evicted, it's my loss.
Hmm.
And respect your elders, right? She's older; gotta show some deference.
Respect your elders, huh. You talk a good game.
Truth is, you're just groveling because you're not the one in charge, right?
...
What a farce.
...What do you take me for?
Who knows. A clown who doesn't even know his own feelings?
Ha. Whatever.
The boss wouldn't understand the woes of a small fry like me. I gave up responding and surveyed the room. Returning after days away brought a strange sense of relief.
"Time to wash up."
I headed to the bathroom, scrubbing off with cold water. Toweling my hair dry, I changed into comfy sweats. Tension melted away, fatigue crashing in. I flopped into the chair.
"..."
My gaze drifted to the desk. A beat-up wooden thing from who-knows-where. Its surface was scarred deep with knife marks and scrawled in messy marker graffiti.
-Die. Retard. Stinks. Orphan bastard.
Childhood memories echoed like hallucinations, stirring odd feelings.
Classroom desk, huh.
Did you steal it or something?
I slowly ran my palm over the rough surface. A knife gouge caught my fingertip.
This was my high school desk.
No need to say it, but for some reason, I wanted to. The boss was the only one in the world who shared even my darkest secrets—my one true ally.
There was this king-of-the-class guy. Chaebol bastard from an affair or something. Anyway, he targeted me just because I rubbed him wrong.
Hmm.
Every day was hell. Beatings were standard; treated worse than dirt.
The desk's insults were proof. I continued with a wry smile.
My dad was the driver's chauffeur for that guy's family.
...
Dad got called to school and knelt before the guy and his parents. Begging them to forgive his son. As head of household, he couldn't lose his job—tossed pride aside.
Dad's back had looked so small then.
That very night, he died. Hit-and-run.
No culprit caught; investigation fizzled out. Obvious backroom dealing.
I did nothing. No revenge—just played dead to avoid expulsion. That was Dad's dying wish.
Strange.
With a backstory like that, there's not a speck of 'revenge' in your heart.
No hate, no killing intent. Just empty.
...
Yet you keep this horror-soaked classroom desk instead of tossing it.
Why? To never forget? Or to keep a ember for someday?
I snorted at that. Brushed my hands with a crisp slap and answered brightly.
"Come on, boss. You read too many novels. What grand reason would there be?"
What?
"Desks cost money. This school's solid hardwood—too good to waste."
...
"No job, no cash for new furniture. Gotta save every penny to live well. Things aren't at fault, right?"
I patted the desk.
"Best bang for your buck out there."
...Pfft.
The voice let out an incredulous scoff. I stretched and turned toward the bed.
"Man, I'm beat. Heading to bed."
Ending it there?
"Got a mountain of stuff tomorrow. Gotta fill out the Ghost Hunter application, hit the Hunter Association. Ten bodies wouldn't be enough."
I collapsed onto the bed. The hard mattress pressed into my back, unleashing waves of exhaustion.
"Good night, boss."
No reply. I pulled the blanket over my head. Eyes shut, deep darkness swallowed me.
The next morning, I yanked on a cap and headed to a nearby PC bang.
"Let's see."
Sat down, typed "Ghost Hunter" into search. Scrolling results, my eyes narrowed.
Archive TV? 800k subscribers...
First I'd heard of it, but the numbers spoke. Major channel specializing in haunted spots. Backed by newbie broadcaster M Network—bigger scale than expected.
I scrolled for details. Paper screening, live audition, then filming.
...Total 20 days?
Longer than thought; brows furrowed. Nearly three weeks till real shooting.
Too long.
Troublesome deadline. But I coldly crunched numbers.
No. This is best.
No alternatives. Major networks required C-rank minimum. Fresh F-rank like me? No shot.
This is a newbie broadcaster project.
Newbie meant low recognition, unproven. First haunted house show from them—bar low.
Only real option among current postings.
Had to. No room to be picky.
Just wait it out.
Downloaded form from site. Name, age, contact, motivation. Filled basics, hit send.
Send Complete
Good.
Dice rolled. Left PC bang, straight to Hunter Association.
"Han Suho?"
Clerk glanced between monitor and me, pulled card from drawer.
"Issued ages ago—why now? No response to calls."
"Sorry, circumstances."
"Tsk. Come on time next. We're swamped."
I brushed off the mild scolding, took the card. Finally, legally a hunter.
"Whew."
Out of building—lunchtime. Streets buzzed with office workers grabbing eats.
Now what.
Too early for home. Wallet too thin for wandering spends.
Then.
"...?"
Amid crowd, odd group caught eye. Vibrant hanbok, tall gat hats—like from historical drama. Strutting street, ignoring stares.
Shaman hunters.
Hunter jobs varied. Martial artists channeling qi, mages with circles, priestly orders serving gods. Shamans handling spells/talismans—called "mudang" here—solid hunter pillar.
One issue.
Were there always this many shamans?
Looked around—situation off. Not just shamans. Sword/spear-armed hunters grouping, heading somewhere.
Something happen?
Hunters moved in packs only for big gate raids. But air lacked urgency.
Subtle, eerie vibe.
Wanna follow.
Knew risky. Curiosity killed the cat. But itch stronger.
What drew them? Where to?
Let's go.
Tailed at distance, quietly. Ten minutes later, road center—unbelievable sight.
"...!"
Space distortion. Hazy waves warping air like heat shimmer. Military cordoned area.
"Civilians prohibited! Turn back!"
"Hunters with license only!"
Soldiers blocked public, parted barriers for licensed hunters.
Boss, that's an anomaly, right? Swallowed hard.
Yeah. Anomaly.
Anomalies usually show so blatantly? Any road ghost stories first?
Didn't I say? The 'trigger' pulled.
Trigger...
Post-trigger, ghost stories gaining form.
Even trivial 'tales' manifesting as anomalies.
Chill ran down my spine at the explanation. Trivial tales turning real. Far more dangerous than common sense suggested.
Curious? Check online.
See if folks recognize it as 'ghost story' or blindly stumble like fools.
Got it. I'll check.