When Kyungsoo was about ten, he'd asked about ghosts.

"Mom," he said seriously, his eyes round, "do ghosts exist?"

It was not, perhaps, a completely uncanny question. Every child wondered about the supernatural from time to time, and Mrs. Do knew that. She was tempted to laugh it away, to make a joke out of it; but then she caught the look on Kyungsoo's face and stopped.

It was an old look, one of pure curiosity but also fear and understanding. In an instant, she knew that Kyungsoo was utterly serious about apparitions, that he'd felt something akin to them and, heaven forbid, maybe even seen one. Mrs. Do knew absolutely nothing about ghosts besides what was told in the average ghost story, but she stopped washing the dishes to give a solemn look back to her son.

"Kyungsoo," she replied, "why do you want to know?"

"I feel cold winds sometimes," said Kyungsoo earnestly, "even on hot days. That's all."

Mrs. Do couldn't stop herself.

"Oh, Soo honey," she laughed gently, "the dead are dead. When you're dead, you stop thinking. How would a ghost exist if they can't think? Stop reading so many storybooks and go out to play. I guarantee that there are no ghosts."

Kyungsoo only gave her a look - a look that shot an icy arrow at her heart and made her second-guess herself for a second. In many ways, she supposed, Kyungsoo was far older than ten. He devoured novels, went on long walks by himself, refused to play with the other children. It wasn't that he had no friends, but he had few and not a single close one. And yet, he never seemed discontented. Neither did he ever get lost on his wanderings, and Mrs. Do tried not to worry about him. Kyungsoo didn't like too much affection.

It wasn't autism. It wasn't Asperger's. It was just... Kyungsoo.

It's an old house, Kyungsoo thought as he drove up the short lane leading to the Three Inns hotel.  Kyungsoo had always been perceptive, and the brightly lit windows and new paint coat did nothing to hide the aura of age that aded the building.

He didn't mind much at all, glad that he could get one night of comfort and heat for a relatively cheap price. Anything would be better than the past five hours of maneuvering through sleet and snow in a ratty old car, heatless because he couldn't afford to waste gas. Yes, as Kyungsoo often admitted to himself with a bitter laugh, he was sadly broke. What else was new?

Normally the drive back home from his university in Seoul took only six hours, but the less-than-ideal weather and the abominable traffic it caused hat delayed him to such an extent that he was only two-thirds of the way. With no intention of risking his neck with the darkness and ice, Kyungsoo decided it would be best to stay a night at some little side motel he found online. It would mean heat, if nothing else.

The wind picked up, whirling the snow in front of his windshield at a dizzying pace. Kyungsoo felt himself feeling almost hypnotized by the swirl. It's beautiful, he thought. Beautiful, but so, so cold. Almost - like a ghost.

Ghosts - the thought of it had haunted him, ever since childhood. After the time he'd asked his mother, he'd never bothered talking about it to anyone ever again, knowing that he'd get a similar response. He'd never truly seen a ghost and he didn't want to; but he'd always felt that they were real, only hovering besides a curtain that could lift at any moment and reveal a frightening spectre to unbelieving eyes.

Brushing away the thought lest it make him even more scared than he already was, he parked his car and exited, taking with him only a small pack. He'd sleep in his clothes and skip brushing his teeth for a night. Nobody was here to care.

No valet took his backpack for him, no bellboy stood attentively at the door; not that Kyungsoo cared. Shivering from the icy wind, he locked his car quickly and ran up the flight of stairs, eager to escape from the cold to warmth and light-

-and silence.

It was an uncommonly quiet lobby. Though the motel was not guestless, Kyungsoo having seen several other cars parked in the driveway, it certainly did seem to be thoroughly asleep. Kyungsoo didn't see a single attendant, bellboy, or janitor; and he almost would have missed seeing the registrar had it not been for a dry "Ehem."

"Excuse me, ma'am," answered Kyungsoo politely, noticing the cold gray statue of a woman behind the front desk. "I-I was admiring the architecture."

The registrar responded with silence. With a sigh, Kyungsoo walked towards her, pulling out his wallet.

Behind him, a strong gust of wind blew the door open. For a split second, it hung in mid-air; before swinging back shut again with a bone-jarring BANG!

Kyungsoo had the odd feeling that it was locking him in.

"So you like the architecture?"

Kyungsoo smiled shyly at the bellboy - or rather, bellwoman, as the person who took his bag was a stout middle-aged woman named Chaeyoung who had worked at the hotel for the past ten years. She was decidedly chatty, which he could understand; there probably weren't a lot of guests for her to talk to so she overwhelmed each one with conversation. Kyungsoo himself had never been much of a talker, so he only nodded quietly in response to her question.

"It's kind of you to notice it," grinned Chaeyoung. "There's not many houses like this one nowadays. It used to be a private residence, you know. It belonged to the Oh family for years before we took over."

"Cool," said Kyungsoo politely.

"Let me think. This house is about seventy... maybe eighty years old? Built during the Japanese colonial rule, you know. It was one of the first homes to be built in the Euro-American style, though quite extravagant for its time. The Oh family was renowned for their good taste. Parties,  jewelry... you know? They've kind of faded out of the picture now, but for years they were the most important family in this part of Korea."

"And you bought the house from them?" asked Kyungsoo, thinking that he'd better keep up his end of the conversation.

"Well, the hotel manager did, of course," said Chaeyoung nonchalantly. "He was an outsider, that's why he bought this house. If he'd lived here for a while he might have not. Bad situation, kind of off the road, y'know? And there's the whole murder mess that was never cleared up, thirty years ago..."

"Murder?" Kyungsoo yelped.

Chaeyoung nodded seriously. "Yes, murder, though the culprit was never caught. It's a bit of an odd story... here, you've reached your room now."

"Thanks," said Kyungsoo, taking his bag absently. "Wait, stay a while... did you say murder?"

Chaeyoung plopped down on a chair with a wide smile, probably happy for more talk. "It all happened when I was a kid and you didn't exist, young man," she said, in the way grandmothers gossiped about auld-lang-syne's. "And, funny to say, it didn't create much of a stir when it did. The Oh's kind of hushed it up... I told you they were influential. They didn't want bad publicity on their house. There was something about their son Oh Sehun in it as well, but the rights of that were never sorted out."

Kyungsoo gulped. He suddenly wished that he had not set Chaeyoung on this path of cheerful remembrances, but the woman was barreling full steam ahead and he saw no way of stopping her.

He knew he would, if it was possible. He didn't need anymore paranoia about ghosts, and this old, out-of-the way hotel seemed like a perfect breeding place. Hopefully whoever was murdered would sleep peacefully and not come to disturb Kyungsoo that night-

"The victim was a young man named Kim Jongin," said Chaeyoung, rubbing her chin. "I don't remember him all too well, but he had a pretty good reputation. Nice, upstanding citizen; that kind of person everyone likes, y'know? He was handsome, too, apparently. I only saw him once or twice but he had a name as every girl's crush."

"Back then, Korea was loosening up. Everyone was relaxing, having fun. Pity's you weren't born back then, it really was the golden age. Anyways, back to this young fellow, Kim Jongin - he was a good friend of, well, everyone, but especially Oh Sehun. The two of them were notorious as the 'liberals' of this old sleepy town. Americanized like crazy, both of 'em. Them and their little friends, always horsing around, partying fit to kill, unlike anything seen before. But in spite of all that, everyone liked them-"

"You told me that already," Kyungsoo interrupted.

Chaeyoung grinned. "So I did. I have a habit of running on, sorry. Ahh, Jongin and Sehun... they were always together. They joined the military together as well, but somehow Jongin was found to be a homoual and discharged, and Sehun had to go on alone."

"Discharged?"

"Dishonorably, at that. You can imagine the stir it made." Chaeyoung chuckled a little, although guiltily. "The Kims were afraid to show their face. Perhaps they regretted letting their son Americanize so much. Whatever the case, Jongin was thrown out of his house into the streets. He managed for a while, streetdancing in the city, and eventually Sehun came back for him."

"You certainly know an awful lot about this," said Kyungsoo nervously. He knew that he took things too seriously; something that happened in the eighties couldn't possibly affect him now, right? All the same, he gave a little shiver thinking about the inevitable. The mournful, whistling wind and oppressive darkness just outside the window made him feel even edgier.

Apparently, Chaeyoung had no such thoughts. "Ahh, Jongin and Sehun. Friends with benefits. Sehun convinced him to come back to this sleepy little town, and found some old flat for him to live in. He was filthy rich, like all the Oh's." Kyungsoo nodded dumbly. He had a gut feeling of what happened, but refused to voice the words. "Sehun and Jongin and their little group of friends continued to saunter around. They made some protests, had all the fun that the young people of the time liked. And then-"

Chaeyoung leaned forward, whispering breathlessly. She has a gift for storytelling, Kyungsoo thought. I wish she didn't choose to use it now.

"Sehun invited Jongin to a party. Jongin was still rather dishonored at that time, although girls were starting to overlook that fact in the hopes that they could make him straight again." Chaeyoung scoffed at this, pausing for a moment. "Anyways, the Ohs were furious. They wanted no in their house. But Sehun ignored every single word and invited Jongin anyways."

"Everyone was drunk, and high, and having . Sehun hosted a night of hell, from what I heard. At first, Jongin was swamped by about a million girls all asking for hookups. But then he disappeared. He was found the next morning in the attic with a telephone cord wrapped around his throat, stark with blood running down his thighs."

Kyungsoo shuddered. The thought of a vivid young life squeezed out with a telephone cord was too much for him to handle. He never understood how people could take death so lightly. After all, one moment they were breathing and thinking; the next moment they were - not. How? How could it happen?

Suddenly, a realization hit him.

"Th-this room... it's i-in the attic, right?"

Chaeyoung squealed with pleasure, totally ignorant of Kyungsoo's obvious fear. "You caught on! Yes, exactly right. Don't worry, the floor's not gonna drop under you, if that's what you're worrying about."

Kyungsoo tried to stop his mind from spinning out of control, putting a hand to his temple. "T-thanks, Chaeyoung," he said, mentally cursing himself for his stutter. "I enjoyed that story. Is-is there any hot water nearby?"

Chaeyoung nodded. "I'll bring you a cup of water," she smiled at him. "You're a nice young man, you know that- what's your name again?"

"Do Kyungsoo."

"Well, Kyungsoo, you're certainly a nice young man. I enjoyed talking to you." Still chatting animatedly, she went to the small teakettle in the kitchenette and poured some water inside, turning up the heat. "It's rare that people come to this hotel now. It's never been a popular place in all the ten years that I've worked here, and now visitors are becoming even scarcer. We might have to close down soon, it's so lifeless. Anyways, I always enjoy talking to nice young men. I wonder if Jongin would have been as nice as you."

Kyungsoo sighed, watching her move about resignedly. He knew that it would be impossible to keep Chaeyoung from the story, though he gave it a shot.

"D-do you have to keep talking about that?"

"Aww, little Kyungsoo afraid of ghosts, aren't you?" giggled Chaeyoung. Kyungsoo said nothing, feeling his cheeks grow hot at the words. But then Chaeyoung came over, ruffling his hair like a mother.

"Never mind about poor Kim Jongin, Kyungsoo," she said. "If the rumors were true, he was a nice man. I got all that information second-hand, you know. Old Chaeyoung was little ten-year-old Chaeyoung then, with her mind on school and girl trouble. I didn't hear of the murder until two days later. Then I heard an awful lot about it, you know? It's a big crime for a small town. And crime so cracked-down on! It's a wonder the murderer was never caught. A lot of people wanted him to be, you know. Girls full-on sobbed when they heard about the murder. Others didn't care. Said it was Jongin's fault for being such a . What a stir it created! The topic of the dinner table for months! I got rather tired of hearing about it all after just a week. Now, Kyungsoo, if there is a ghost, it's never been heard of. Sure, the Oh's could hardly stand to live in the house again... but that was more of wounded pride than of haunts. The reason why this house is unpopular is because of bad publicity from the whole affair, not what happened after it. No ghost has ever been recorded here, and you're certainly not the first person to sleep in this room or the attic. But- if Jongin comes to haunt you, remember that he's handsome. You won't be frightened by his looks, if anything."

Absolutely, impossibly dense, this woman, thought Kyungsoo, but he couldn't put much emphasis into his mind-words from fear. His mind was racing now, Chaeyoung's words and his childhood feelings mixing into one big mess of a mind. He would have hated her, thrown her out, if he was capable of hating at all. Chaeyoung was just a big sensible baby after all, with no second thought about ghosts and the supernatural. But - Kyungsoo felt. It was as though all his ghostly life was coming up to face him.

Oh, damn it all! He shakily thanked Chaeyoung for his cup of water, managing to sneak the words in between all the woman's prattling. She was much more than a bellboy. It was with a sigh of relief that he watched her leave - until he realized that, once she was gone, he was alone.

In the attic!

With a ing ghost!

Of course, if Jongin's ghost was still lingering around after thirty years, it hadn't yet showed itself to Kyungsoo. But perhaps that was only because of the light that still shone brightly from the lamp hanging in the center of the room. It was cliche as hell, Kyungsoo knew, to suppose that ghosts only came after dark. Hadn't he had a good lot of those 'cold winds' in the bright summer sunlight, all those years ago? All the same, he decided to keep the light on for as long as possible. Jongin had better stay away.

He brushed his teeth. He stood warming himself in front of the heater. He took a shower, though for the first minute he hardly dared near the shower nozzle, afraid that some thin gray wisp would float out of it.

Nothing did.

Feeling slightly bolder, Kyungsoo stepped out without hesitation, drying himself and throwing on his shirt again. He gave another shudder when he remembered that Jongin had been found in the attic with blood on his thighs, but, with a few deep breaths, managed to dispel the thought.

Jongin was not going to come back and haunt him. Not if he could help it.

I'm not the first one to sleep in this room.

All the same, he considered pulling on his pants, even though he hated sleeping with pants on. He couldn't help thinking that perhaps Jongin is still here. Perhaps he's seen me . i would never know - after all, ghosts live behind a screen, right?

Oh god. Embarrassed by a ghost.

Kyungsoo shut his eyes, wished with all his might that the mental demons that had accompanied him since childhood would leave him now, would give him peace. For he'd never had peace, even as a kid. His mother probably thought him a most uncanny child, the way he would often walk alone, sometimes gone all afternoon. But Kyungsoo had never been part of the noisy crowd of kids that had played up and down his streets. He'd wished that he could join them, but it always proved impossible. His demons would never let him.

Now's the time to leave. Now's the time to stop making me miserable.

He opened his eyes. He felt calmer.

There's no ghost.

On a burst of courage, he switched off the light before crashing into bed.

Darkness.

Oppressive, heavy darkness, the type that pressed around him and invaded his brain. The kind that didn't lighten when his eyes grew accustomed to it.

Kyungsoo hadn't noticed before how utterly dark the storm had made the sky. But now he remembered the thick heavy clouds blanketing the moon and sparse stars. A blanket of blackness, spreading over him.

Shivers began to creep up his arms, a feeling of claustrophobia beginning to spread through him. Even though the room was big, Kyungsoo felt as though the space around him was shrinking. There was no more air; he was choking, stifling - dying!

He wished that he hadn't turned off the light, but he was too scared to get up and turn it on again, childhood superstitions about monsters under the bed coming back to him. Anything could reach out and grab at him. He scrunched up further under the covers, letting the blanket block out the ghosts that pawed at him, that reached for him.

his wishes. His mental demons never listened to him anyways.

Anything could happen. Anything could touch him. Anything could come out of the darkness now, to haunt him, to control him-

"Do Kyungsoo."

Kyungsoo yelped, waking from some fitful half-sleep that gave him no rest. For a moment he kept his eyes shut, willing it to be daylight, willing eternity to be over.

"Kyungsoo, wake up."

A cold hand on his shoulder.

Shaking with raw terror, Kyungsoo slowly opened his eyes. His mouth moved unwillingly, refusing to admit it was real. It couldn't be real. It couldn't!

"A-are you Kim Jongin?"

A hiss.

"I'm not Kim Jongin, Do Kyungsoo. I am Kai."

---

starting this up because i'm pissed at my computer for deleting the first chapter to only half-immortal

anyways I have several chapters prewritten so more will be out soon!