At first, I brushed it off as nothing—just coincidence or a minor fluke.

But when so-called coincidences repeat themselves again and again, they’re no longer just coincidences.

Two roof tiles had fallen.

One door had toppled over.

One shattered window had suddenly swung open.

And now, two more tiles smashed down in succession from the roof above.

It was getting hard not to ask the question out loud.

“Is... is there a ghost or something!?”

I clutched Hyang tightly to my chest.

Every hair on my back was standing on end.

Humans fear the unknown, and nothing embodies that fear more than ghosts.

‘I-I’m freaking terrified!’

– Tsrrt? 『Ghost?』

– Kkii?

– Kyuit?

Though fear gripped me in an icy hold, the kids just stared at me with wide, curious eyes.

I pulled them all into my arms one by one.

– Kyuit.

– Kku-kuu!

I grabbed Dong-i by the back foot and dragged her in. I yanked Hongdan’s tail and pulled him into my embrace along with a clump of reeds he’d been holding.

– Kkiii.

– Kyuut!

I covered their mouths so they wouldn’t scream, and then I tore apart a pile of dry reeds and burrowed in beneath it.

At first, the kids squirmed inside my arms—understandably confused after being yanked in without explanation.

Dong-i’s front paw pushed at my chin, and Seol and Bing’s tails fluttered in agitation under the covers.

But once we were all tucked beneath the reeds, their reactions began to change.

What had seemed strange and sudden now became fun.

– Tsrrr. 『This is fun.』

– Kyut!

Their little heads poked out one by one next to mine, peeking through the reeds at the flickering firelight.

Kids always love this kind of hiding game.

I remembered loving to hide under blankets or draping a sheet over a desk to crawl beneath it when I was little too.

Their curious chirps followed.

– Tsrrt. 『But Daddy, what’s a ghost? And what are we doing right now?』

– Kkii?

– Kkukku?

They didn’t know what a ghost was, but huddling under the reeds and peeking out made it feel like some kind of game. Their cries were playful.

– Crackle, crackle.

I looked at the firelight dancing through the cracks and tried to explain in a quiet, cautious voice.

“A ghost... is, uh... it’s like the soul of someone who’s died...”

– Tsrrt? 『Soul?』

“When someone dies, a soul is left behind and—ah, geez, how am I supposed to explain this?”

It was hard to put concepts like death and the soul into kid-friendly words.

While I fumbled, Hyang immediately reached out to Hwa-eun in the group chat.

『– Tsrrrt? (Mommy, what’s a ghost?)』

‘Hyang, you’re still up? And... ghosts?’

Well, when kids don’t understand something, they go ask Mom. That’s normal.

Even though it was bedtime, Hwa-eun replied right away.

Hyang gave her a very simplified version of what was going on.

『– Tsrrt. (Daddy said there’s a ghost here, but he couldn’t explain it.)』

I felt a warm chuckle come through the link.

She probably thought I was playing some silly game with Hyang.

Then came her gentle voice—soothing and soft, like a true mom.

『A ghost is... well, Hyang, think of it like this: There’s the part of you that thinks and talks, and the part of you that’s your body. When someone dies, the body disappears, but the thinking-talking part stays behind. That’s what a ghost is.』

Hyang tilted her head, not fully understanding, and scratched her antenna with her claw.

『– Tsrrrt. Oh, okay. But Mommy, we’re hiding right now.』

Trying to change the subject?

Still, her statement caught Hwa-eun off guard.

『Hiding?』

– Tstsrr. (Yeah! We’re hiding in the grass!)

‘So-ryong, what is Hyang talking about?’

She’d assumed it was just a game, but now she seemed concerned.

『Well, uh... this is what happened... and... so now we’re just hiding for a bit.』

I quickly explained—roof tiles crashing down, doors tipping over, windows swinging open.

After hearing all that, Hwa-eun sent back a question filled with confusion.

『But why are you hiding?』

“What do you mean why? Because it’s a ghost!”

『Excuse me?』

I already knew Hwa-eun wasn’t exactly the most empathetic person when it came to these things, but this was getting extreme.

I repeated myself, but she still didn’t get it.

『Wait—so it’s a ghost... but why are you hiding?』

“What do you mean, why!? Because it’s scary, obviously!”

– CRASH!

Right on cue, another tile crashed down from the ceiling, shattering into sharp shards on the floor.

“Hiieek!”

I shrieked involuntarily.

Through the link, I felt a wave of Hwa-eun’s baffled exasperation.

『So-ryong, I just don’t get it.』

“What do you mean?! Another tile just fell! This ghost is definitely trying to mess with us!”

I was genuinely hurt by her reaction.

But her next words hit me like a sledgehammer.

『I just don’t understand why you, of all people, are scared of ghosts.』

“What? I get scared too, okay!? I’m not always some fearless, cool, manly guy, you know!”

『That’s not what I mean. I mean, you’re literally always hanging around a ghost. Even if it hasn’t been that long...』

“...What?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

As I tried to process what she was implying, she followed up in an even more bewildered tone.

『I’m talking about Cheong-yu Sojeo. She’s a ghost too, isn’t she? You hang out with her every day, and even meet her properly every full moon. So why are other ghosts scary to you?』

I stopped.

She was absolutely right.

Cheong-yu Sojeo’s soul had been absorbed into the Golden Crown Death King’s body.

By all definitions, she was a ghost.

I saw her constantly.

So... why was I afraid?

Was it just because she wasn’t this kind of ghost?

It was like raising a pet viper and still being scared of wild vipers.

Didn’t make any sense.

‘Yeah... she’s right. Why was I scared? Just because this ghost wasn’t mine?’

As soon as I realized that, the fear began to fade—like a fog lifting.

***

–Ssshhhh.

The steady sound of rain became white noise.

Because it has a uniform frequency similar to white light, it's called white noise.

Some say white noise helps you concentrate better when studying, and it can also calm the body and mind, helping you sleep soundly.

We were all asleep, immersed in the white noise created by the pouring rain.

That was when a sharp sound pierced through the hum near our ears.

–CRASH!

At the sharp noise that broke through the rain, we all groaned and looked in the direction it came from.

“Again?”

–Tsrrr.

–Kyuit!

The rain still showed no sign of stopping, and just like yesterday, we were staying in the abandoned temple again today—but it wasn’t just us continuing from yesterday.

Roof tiles and doors kept rattling or crashing down, interrupting our deep sleep again and again.

At this point, it wasn’t scary—just annoying.

“Did the fire go out?”

I opened my eyes and looked at the campfire, where the embers flickered faintly like fireflies.

I just wanted to keep sleeping, but I had to build the fire back up.

Whenever the fire was strong, the ghost would stay quiet for a while.

I grabbed a handful of dry reeds from beneath me and tossed them into the embers, but the fire had died down so much that it didn’t flare up quickly.

I figured I’d have to lean in and blow on it to stoke the flames.

“Ugh, so much smoke... such a pain.”

Just thinking about coughing and getting covered in ash made me scowl, when I spotted something pale in the dark.

–Rustle.

I reached out and grabbed it—and realized what it was.

“This is oiled paper?”

It was the oiled paper I had wrapped the jerky in when I first arrived.

Regular paper burns well enough, but oiled paper?

Even flickering embers like this should catch it quickly.

–Shhhk.

I uncrumpled the paper and tore off a piece, then tossed it into the fire.

Immediately, flames flared up.

Just like I thought—oiled paper burned quickly and shared its fire with the reeds.

As the flames rose, I added a few more logs and thought I should keep the rest of the oiled paper somewhere safe.

But as I was about to fold it, something odd caught my eye.

“Why is this torn like this?”

What looked strange was the torn edge of the paper.

The part chewed through by the ‘rat’ yesterday.

It was clearly suspicious.

I had assumed a rat chewed up the oiled paper and stole the jerky inside. At the time, I’d been too caught up in losing the food to examine the paper—but this was definitely not the work of a rat.

If it were a rat, it would’ve gnawed a hole.

But the paper I was looking at now had been cut—like with a knife.

‘Wait, no way.’

That thought struck me like lightning.

I had assumed the one who stole the jerky was a rat, and the ghost causing trouble was something else—but now it felt like they might be the same thing.

To make a tear like this, either a person used a blade, or...

I looked at Hongdan, who was asleep near the fire.

To be precise—I looked at Hongdan’s tail.

With a tail like that, it was possible to slice paper cleanly.

‘With the kind of luck I’ve had lately, this wouldn’t even be that surprising.’

Given how often I’ve been running into toxic creatures and spirit beasts lately, it didn’t seem that far-fetched.

Maybe some venomous or spiritual creature living alone in this abandoned temple was angry about us invading its territory.

I quickly raised my voice, in case the thing was lurking nearby and listening.

“Ahem! Hey, if you’re a ghost or something, don’t be so stingy! Where are we supposed to go in this rain!?”

At my loud words, a red glow shimmered against the wall.

Sister Jeokwol, who had been hiding her body, revealed herself.

–Chii.

It sounded like she was asking why I was yelling in the middle of the night, so I hurried over and whispered softly.

[Ma’am, I think there might be some kind of venomous or spirit creature here. Could you quietly spread your butterfly dust inside?]

Without a word, her antennae twitched and the powder began to drift from her wings, scattering in every direction.

As it floated, the red powder lost its color and blended into the surroundings.

The powder drifted upward toward the ceiling holes and rafters.

Whatever this thing was, if it came inside, it’d be caught for sure.

Before going back to bed, I moved the stuff I’d used to block the hole in the corner and left only a single burning log, rubbing it to extinguish it quickly.

I didn’t know what it was, but it only showed itself in the dark, so I made sure the fire would go out fast.

Then, I lay down in the darkness and ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) closed my eyes, focusing all my senses.

–Ssshhhh.

–Drip, drip.

The rain kept pouring down, and water dripped through the hole.

Soon, it seemed the log had gone out and the room grew darker.

I focused, trying to sense any presence.

–Ssshhh. Ssshh.

–Drip. Drop. Drip.

Somewhere in the rhythm of the rain and falling drops, a different sound began to emerge.

–Tap. Ttock. Ttododok.

‘That’s it!’

Something light was stepping on the roof tiles above, amidst the pouring rain.

The sound drew closer, toward the hole in the ceiling, and the regular dripping sound became irregular.

Something was definitely near that hole.

–Thunk. Thud.

I quickly summoned Myoa Am Night Vision Technique and scanned the ceiling, but without moonlight or starlight, the technique wasn’t bright enough to see clearly.

That’s when I saw it.

Something peeked its head through the ceiling.

Eyes gleaming in the dark.

And in that instant—

Apparently, Sister Jeokwol’s butterfly dust had drifted up near the ceiling too. The creature twitched, lost its balance, and tumbled down with the roof tile.

–CRASH!

‘Got it!?’

I jumped up and rushed toward the sound—but a sharp cry rang out.

–CHIIIII!

At the cry, I backed off—just in time to dodge the strike that came flying toward me.

–Slish!

The hem of my clothes was sliced as a strong floral scent hit me.

The moment I smelled it, my head spun.

“Poison!?”

Startled, I summoned my poison resistance to block the incoming toxin.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a lethal or highly toxic poison—but it was strange.

My senses dulled, and when I tried to move my right hand, my left hand responded instead—a neurotoxin that confused my nervous system.

As I tried to get a grip on myself, the creature darted through the hole in the corner and vanished.

“Damn. Lost it.”

Looked like it got away.

I sat back down, trying to drive the poison from my system, when Sister Jeokwol’s cry echoed.

–Chiiiii.

Her butterfly dust shimmered red, flowing back toward her body.

And strangely, the path the creature had taken left behind glowing red traces—like footprints—leading straight toward the hole.

A new chase was about to begin.