And so here I was.

Here I was, having breakfast this early morning.

Here I was, having breakfast in the house of a neighbor I never met.

Here I was, having breakfast with five spirits and a demon.

As much as I’d like to say the latter is the most abnormal of them all, the second was even more unbelievable. How so? Well, this particular neighbor of my grandparents was someone I had only seen and never interacted with aside from a “good morning” in passing. This particular neighbor was an older woman, her husband apparently a business man who took long trips away from home and her two sons apparently studying in college overseas.

I say “apparently” because I actually have no idea if any of this is true. I actually have no idea if anything Mr. Demon and Friends has told me since we sat down to have breakfast together in said woman’s house was actually true. All I know is that somehow, they got the woman to take them into her home. Whatever it was they did, I don't want to know. My curiosity shall remain unsated at this point in time. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Asked the Tokebi, Jung Daehyun, who was currently on his third helping of eggs this particular morning. Now that I think about it, he likes western styled breakfast, doesn't he? Eggs are always on the menu and pancakes seemed to be all the spirit dreamed about at night. Every morning is like a special breakfast day for him what with the daily bacon he devourers like a cannibalistic pig.

"You're spoiled." I said in reply to his question, my thoughts coming to that conclusion in the end.

He appeared to be unfazed by my response. In fact, he honestly was. He honestly was completely and utterly unaffected by my words. How did I know? Well, why else would he say what he said next? Why would he make me feel like both wringing his neck and getting out of my seat to refill his orange juice at the same time?

"You spoil me," he shrugged his shoulders, "Blame yourself."

And he turned his eyes back down to his food, ignoring the glare coupled with a snarling upper lip that I was throwing at him. Yet, I felt it. I felt that contradictory feeling I had earlier. Why was I thinking like this? I should be wanting to crack eggs on his skull, not into the frying pan.

"I like that you spoil us.” The Gumiho, Kim Himchan, turned his back away from the kitchen stove, fox like eyes beaming at me as he leaned back onto the counter, “Because it means that you like us.”

Okay, his conclusion I do not approve of. I like them? I spoil them thus I like them? What kind of logic is that? Because I pet puppies, I must like puppies? Well, I do like puppies. They’re cute, you know? But, who doesn’t like puppies? So I may have chosen the wrong example on this one but here’s the conclusion: Spirits and Demons are not cute.

I don’t like them.

I’m simply a habitually nice person.

However, denying it vehemently would only increase the Gumiho’s assertion that it’s the truth. So I’m not going to say anything. Nope, I won’t respond to that comment of his. Nor will I even spare him another glance this particular morning.

Out of sight, out of mind.

At least, I would have liked him to be.

But, how could I ignore that?

How could I ignore the nine plumes of white that came furling out from the top of his jeans as he turned back around? The same white forms I saw two days ago when I told them to “get out,” only to have them do just that.

"What are those?" I raised my finger to point to the plumes, as I questioned not a single one of them in particular. How could I not expect though that the one who would answer my question was the last demon whose voice I wanted to hear so early in the morning? Especially since sleep still coated his already raspy tone with a hoarse vibrato.  

“This?” He pointed to them as well, to which I nodded skeptically.

And of course, he couldn't just answer my question normally.

Mr. Demon strolled right on up to the Gumiho and reached out for one of said white fluffy enigmas. Then, without a single warning, he tugged down. He tugged down and the effect had me half falling out of my chair from shock and half pounding on the table as a loud, hearty laugh escaped my throat. What was the effect?

Well, three things happened. First, the cry of a dying banshee filled the air. Second, two hands belonging to the playboy Gumiho shot up into the air as though he were continuing a passing wave at a baseball game. Third, the Gumiho went crashing down onto wooden floor where he now lay, splayed out as though someone had used him like a toy before throwing him away.

And as Mr. Demon, Bang Yongguk, stared down at his handiwork, he nodded in understanding, the corner of his lips rising higher with each passing second, "I think I understand why you like doing that so much now."

And that gave me the answer to my question.

Those nine white fluffs were Kim Himchan’s tails.

The tails of the standard Gumiho I had heard stories about, myths about, tales about that never exactly described them accurately. They looked softer than fox fur. They looked as white as purely fallen snow. And you can’t blame me for wanting to touch them too. It’s a normal reaction to seeing something so well, fluffy and warm looking and stop! I have to stop my legs that are trying to step down off of the stool I’m on of their own volition.

Unfortunately, it was too late and there I was, standing over the Gumiho, my eyes trained on those nine white tails. I could feel five pairs of eyes all looking at me. The Tokebi had actually stopped stuffing his face long enough to pay attention to what was going on.

The Dokkaebi looked up from the newspaper in front of him as though intrigued as to what I would do next. The Haechi had stalled in his attempt to approach Himchan and help him up. The Xiezhi’s mouth was hanging open in a smile, his expression similar to my own earlier.

And last but not least, no matter how much I wish he could have been least or better yet, not there at all, Mr. Demon had on his face the most cocky of expressions.

An expression that included one eyebrow hitched upwards, the tilting of a head to the right, and the pursing of pink tinted lips.

And instead of doing what I so wanted to do, instead of reaching down and feeling for myself what those cloud like plumes felt like, I took a step forward. I took a step forward and tugged down. I tugged down onto Yongguk’s own red, carefree tail.

Again, three things happened.

There was a groan.

There was the conclusion of Himchan’s baseball stadium wave.

And there was now a spirit and a demon collapsed on the floor of the kitchen.  

And I leaned down, balancing myself on the balls of my feet as I peered over, sending my own smug smile his way, “I almost forgot how much I liked it. Thanks for reminding me.”

Just because I didn’t touch those white tails now though doesn’t mean I won’t later. Later, when there’s no one else around because if I give an inch, the puppies will take a mile.

My senses got stronger, they said. That’s the reason I never saw the Gumiho’s tails before now. The longer I spend with the five spirits and demon under contract, the more I’ll see. It’ll start off small, such as with Himchan’s tails, and escalate from now on. Soon, I’ll be able to see everything they see.

That’s what Jongup said, as though there’s a whole world I don’t see already. As though there’s so much I’m missing out on during my daily life. As though spending every day with them isn’t enough already. Now, I have more to look forward to.

Specifically this.

This well, bird.

This bird that was perched upon the first pole of many that lead the way up the way to my grandfather’s shrine in order to aid people from either falling on the way up or getting lost amongst the trees.

The bird in particular is red. Red with orange waves and yellow tints running through its wings and tail. It’s not just a small bird either. It’s larger in size with deep brown eyes and irises so black I feel like its gaze is piercing through me.

Through my entirety.

I had never seen it before sitting there.

Not once.

It’s also out of season for birds to be here during the winter.

So then, I could only draw one conclusion.

“This isn’t real, is it?” I looked to the Xiezhi, Zelo, by my side. He shook his head no before squatting next to said bird. The two then proceeded to engage in a staring contest of sorts. The bird mimicked each action Zelo made; whether it be the tilting of his head to the left or to the right, or the blinking of his eyes.

“It’s real to us.” He answered then, his words as cryptic sounding as always, “But to you, I guess it wouldn’t be.” So then, such a bird is apparently a normal occurrence in their world. Their world which coexists with mine yet remains hidden to the everyday person, not that I’m claiming to be “special.” I’d rather not be special really, no matter how beautiful of a sight it was to see that bird there, the morning sun seeming to light its crimson feathers ablaze.

“It’s a phoenix.” Youngjae informed me as he crouched down beside Zelo, seemingly enamored with the bird as though it were the morning paper. And the Dokkaebi loves his daily morning paper.

He’d marry the editor if he could, of that I’m sure.

“Phoenixes act as markers for wandering spirits of the recently deceased. If a spirit finds itself lost and without purpose, it cannot pass on peacefully. If it discovers a phoenix however, the spirit can find its own way peacefully into the afterlife.” Jongup held out his arm and like it was waiting for the gesture all along, the phoenix flapped it’s wings, a firestorm of red, orange, and yellow, before it instead perched itself onto Jongup’s forefinger.

“He always did like Jongup best.” Himchan peaked over Jongup’s shoulder, referring to the now glaring phoenix as a “he.” It looked as though the bird not only liked Jongup best but it liked Himchan the least.

It looks like we have something in common in that respect.

“So, a phoenix helps to guide ghosts into the afterlife.” I concluded as I stare on at it and it stared back, only to be reprimanded by an angered Tokebi right after.

“Don’t call them ghosts. It’s demeaning.” Daehyun sounded as though he took offense to the term more than anyone else.  “It’s like saying they don’t belong here when they have as much right to the world they lived in as the living do.”

I wasn’t looking to argue with him, I had nothing to argue for or against anyway, and I definitely didn’t mean to offend him as I seemed to have. “Got it. Ghosts? What ghosts?” I mused as I turned my head back, looking over my shoulder as though the term wasn’t uttered by me but by someone else entirely.

He scoffed in response, crossing his arms against his chest, before his usual nonchalant demeanor returned. Before he diverted his eyes however, he glanced at me as though only just now realizing how harsh he was towards me. I relished in the silent apology, smiling in response to his eyes on me for that one second, which only caused him to huff another puff of air from his lips.

“You are usually not this far down the path. Why are you not with the rest of the kkoktu?” Jongup asked the bird, receiving silence in return. Why would he receive anything else? It’s a bird after all. It can’t talk. Not that I know of. Does it even know what “kkoktu” are? I do but, does it? What’s the definition of a kkoktu? I’ll get to that later. Why not now?

Because the usual smile on Mr. Demon’s face twisted, contorting into an expression I’ve never seen him make before. An expression of urgency before he went sprinting up the walkway of the hill, leaving me and the spirits behind. Before I could even ask the obvious question of, “What’s with him?,” Daehyun, Youngjae, and Zelo went running off too, following behind.

It was only thanks to Jongup’s and Himchan’s urging of me to go as well that those four didn’t end up having to wait for me to follow; the distance they could go from me had greatly increased but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still limited.

And when we arrived at the shrine, lungs heaving, breath heavy, I questioned what I saw at first. What we all saw as we stood there, a dumbfounded look on each one of our faces.  

The shrine was black.

Everything was black.

Coated on so thickly I couldn’t tell what was what.

Coated on so thickly I felt like I couldn’t breath even though I was simply standing there.

And that’s all I remember.

That’s all I remember before my whole world went black.