“You’re the,” the short-haired woman paused, pursing her lips as she raised her hands from her lap, her eyes looking down at them in contemplation. She clenched her fists before one by one, her slim, pallid fingers rose upwards.

One. Two. Five. Ten. Hold on. Why’d she clench her hands again? Wait, is she counting again? Did she lose count somehow? No. That doesn’t seem right. It didn’t make any sense.

That is, until she revealed her ending count to me. “You’re the fifty third person I’ve tried to talk to.”

Fifty-three.

Fifty-two people before me couldn’t see her.

“Though, I suppose “tried” isn’t the correct word, seeing as how you were actually able to hear me.” The woman concluded with a smile. Honestly, she was very pretty.

Which made me wonder: how did she end up dying? It must have been recent because as my Grandfather and Jongup had said, the spirits of those who have died usually find their way to one of those Haechi-loving phoenixes in order to pass on or become a part of the spirit world forever. So, since she was still a spirit, her death must have occurred recently.

And that thought made my chest clench for some reason.

“How’d you know I’d be able to anyway?” I asked, causing her to shift on my bed. That’s right, I let the dead girl in – though perhaps using that term for her is a bit offensive? I can’t use ghost, apparently, due to the Tokebi’s odd sensitivity towards the word for whatever reason. I can’t use dead girl because it doesn’t sit right with me. So then, it looks like what I refer to her as is up to debate and subject to change from now on.

Anyway, getting back to the main focus of my thoughts, yes, I let her in. I didn’t see her as harmful. In fact, she seemed pretty harmless. And her intentions didn’t seem bad either. She simply wanted to talk to me for a bit. Because it was hard finding someone to talk to that wasn’t a creepy imp at the corner store or a spirit that was a bit too sketchy for her liking – according to her previous encounters that she accounted to me.

So, that’s right, I let her in and began this conversation with her. Maybe because I was bored. Maybe because she was pretty and I’m a er for pretty people. Maybe because I felt bad. Though, I don’t think pity is what I’m feeling right now.

It feels more natural, you know?

Instinctual.

Whatever it is, she’s here now. She’s here and what matters is the sentence that came following from her pink-tinted lips next.

“Well, I almost didn’t think I could talk to living people at all. Almost. That is,” she threw a smile my way, “until I saw you talking with that demon and that fox.”

Mr. Demon and the Gumiho.

That’s a solid explanation if I ever heard one. And lately, I hadn’t heard many. Ridiculous demon and spirit thoughts aside, the female spirit in front of me didn’t stop there.

“Plus, I’ve heard about you lately.”

I froze, my eyes staring up at her from my place on the carpet of my room right beside my bed, not understanding her. Thus, she was given the opportunity once more to explain herself.

“Here and there, I’ve heard from others that there’s a woman with a demon and five spirits who are helping us.”

By “us,” she must have meant spirits in general. But, that didn’t make any sense. Why in the world was something like that spreading around when it was the farthest thing from the truth? When it wasn’t even close to reality? Sure, the seven of us were together because of my grandfather’s sudden admittance to the hospital, but all we had done was clean the shrines a few times. Walked around here and there once or twice.

Helping spirits?

Never had I once done such a thing.

And yet, here the rumor was. Sitting in my room. Seemingly normal.

Why did this all feel so seemingly normal?

I blame Mr. Demon.

It’s always his fault, even if it’s not.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” I answered honestly, all kinds of conclusions flitting past my mind. Conclusions I couldn’t address as she still continued on, unabashed by my cluelessness.

“So, you’re new to this?” She pointed between the two of us, referencing the very fact that we were currently communicating. Her, a dead woman, and I. “You’ve never helped someone like me before?

I shrugged my shoulders, “I’m as new to this as, well, I assume you are.”

“So, then,” she stopped, her lips quivering, rejection the last thing she needed after being rejected the chance to even speak fifty-two times before this. And then, she looked at me, eyes glistening, “you can’t help me?”

And yet, her resolve was there. There was something different from fragile weakness in her eyes. She was determined. And I knew. I knew that if I said no, if I wouldn’t help her, she’d continue to approach others. She’d continue until she found someone who would say yes.

And even though I had no idea what it was I would be helping her with. Even though I had no clue what regret she wanted to resolve before she passed on, before she moved on, I decided not to leave her waiting any longer.

“No.” I began, and I could see her legs pushing her body to a stand, as though a single word was all it took for her to understand and move on. But, she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand that my answer to her didn’t end there, “No, I can help you.” She stared at me, disbelief crossing her face. I couldn’t help but smile as I leaned forward on my heels, “I’ll help you.”

And that was that.

Yeah, right.

That was never that.

Nothing ends so simply in my life. Not anymore. Not when I have a demon and five spirits currently trailing after the very heels I’m currently balancing on.

“Sora!” I suddenly heard my name from somewhere far away downstairs. Somewhere being the front door, to be exact. And I knew who that voice belonged to – I’d be stupid not to – so I had no intention of answering the call.

The woman, whose name I still hadn’t caught now that I thought about it, peered over my shoulder, attracted by the sudden noise, “I think someone’s looking for you.”

“Ignore it.” I sighed, blocking it out. Blocking it out because now was the worst time for me to let them come barging in. I’ve been too lenient with them lately. I had to crack down the whip.

“Sora!” I heard his rasping voice call again, coupled with three swift bangs pounding on the front door.

I made sure to lock the door. I swear I did. I swore I did. So then, why? Why did his voice seem closer now? Why did it seem like Mr. Demon was getting closer?

Why did it seem like he was coming up the stairs right at this very moment? And why was he there, standing in the doorway of my room, those thick eyebrows of his furrowed downwards, a firm, tight-lipped frown on his face? Why was he glaring daggers at me, as though I somehow pissed him off. As though it wasn’t him who was the cause of most of my own angry rages lately.

"What's with all the yelling?" I mocked him, a scowl on my as I pretended to be annoyed rather than concerned by his sudden call. Because, now that I've thought about it, has Mr. Demon actually ever said my name before? And now, just then, he yelled it. Twice. Urgently. Desperately. I didn't even want to see the condition the front door was in – the methods he used to get inside are completely beyond me.

So then, I honestly – don't you know, I'm always honest – was concerned. Rather than asking in a reprimanding tone why the hell he was yelling my name this way and that, as though he were calling out to multiple duplicates of myself that badgered at him nonstop, a nice scene to imagine to be sure, my second question was laid on the other side of the spectrum.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly as I leaned over, attempting and ultimately failing to see past him. Perhaps the Gumiho had set the sweet Ms. Kim's house on fire? After all, his cooking skills were adequate but they left much to be desired.  Perhaps the Tokebi became his stomach, quite literally a black hole that threatened to rip a new one for the planet? I really wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

Though, he most likely would have come over and eaten me and my grandparents out of house and home before he reached that stage in his insatiable hunger. Perhaps the three angels, the Xiezhi, the Haechi, and the Dokkaebi, had somehow caused trouble. You see? I can't even imagine them doing anything. As though they're a godsend, there's no way I'd ever believe they were the cause of Mr. Demon's sudden buffalo stampede all the way up to my room.

It's funny. I momentarily forgot how to spell buffalo and ended up spelling buffoon. Even my body has become conditioned to insulting him. So then, the buffoon stampede had arrived. The only thing left was, as I've been trying to figure out this entire time in my head, finding out what the hell he wants. 

And you remember how I said he came in in a rage earlier? How he looked pissed off for no reason at all? Well, good. It’s good that you’re paying attention to me, is all. Unfortunately, what he did next was in no way good. Nowhere near.

How so?

Well, first, he smiled.

As though that wasn’t enough to immediately cause my eyebrow to twitch in annoyance due to his sudden, and quite random to be sure, amusement with the situation. As though that wasn’t enough to earn him a swift stomp on the tail, he did something else. Wait, what’s that? I can’t punish him for smiling? Says who? Well, I’m pretty sure he deserved the boney heel I sent crashing down onto his tail after what he did next.

He touched me.

Mr. Demon germs aside, I never was the type to care much for cooties when I was little, after traipsing over to me, a skip in his step that made me scoff, he pulled me up to my feet and s his fingers through my own. And then, well, he locked me in. He locked me in his death grip, his hand engulfing mine as he grinned like a mad man at the short-haired, dead woman – like I said, I never did get her name.

For a single second, I questioned if I was going to die. If Mr. Demon was going to drag me down into the fiery pits of hell, forcing me to spend all of eternity with his less than likeable self. But, that’s when my defensive mechanism kicked in and I stomped his tail, as I said I had earlier.

The creepy thing is, he grinned and bore it. He actually put up with it, not showing a single sign of pain except for the slight twitching of the corner of his grinning lips. And through clenched teeth, he said in that rasping, albeit stuttering – meaning my attack on him had, quite literally, hit a nerve – voice of his, “There’s something you have to see.”

“Are pigs flying?” Was my immediate question, just to be difficult with him. Just to buy myself time to try to pull out of the strangling hold he had on my hand.

He turned his eyes away from the nameless woman, his grin faltering. I most certainly took gratification in the fact that I had stunned him into confusion, “No.”

“Well, when pigs start flying,” his stunned state allowed me to get away from him. I quickly hid both of my hands behind me and backed up, not giving him yet another chance to grab onto me, “then, you can come and get me.”

He made one of those signature growling noises of his, full lips curling upwards as he took steps towards me again. This time, he was the one attempting and failing to weave around me, his hand reaching out for mine. I dodged his first and second lunge, quickly jumping onto my bed to get away, causing the nameless woman’s body to shift slightly on the mattress. I kneeled down onto my bed, gripping down onto her shoulders.

Teasing him.

Mocking him.

It was positively wonderful to see those features of his scrunch together. Mr. Demon looked like a Mr. Dinosaur at this point. A Mr. T-Rex whose hands were too short and stubby to reach past the barrier I still had set up on my bed – ghosts, or rather lingering spirits, seemed to be unaffected by it though. All the better for me. All the worse for Mr. T-Rex.

“As much as I like it when you’re difficult,” he ran that hand of his through his cropped hair, his bottom lip jutting out in annoyance, “I don’t like it when you act childish.”

“Well, I don’t like you at all times of the day, so there.” I huffed, shrugging my shoulders.

I was acting childish? Yeah, so what? What? You thought I’d deny it? Of course not. I’m childish by default. I’m profane by default. I’m sarcastic by default. I’ll be childish if I want to, Mr. T-Rex hands Demon. I’ll proclaim “I don’t like you! You have cooties!” like a five-year-old if I want to. Or rather, when I want to.

And, I’ll get dragged around by you like that same five-year-old child with the simple utterance of your next words.

“Daehyun and Himchan are attempting to cook pineapple upside down cake.” He waited, watching my reaction before, as I continued to stare at him, unfazed by his statement, he finished with, “Don’t get me started on what they’re wearing.”

And just like that, I leapt off of the bed, gesturing for the nameless woman to follow me. She stood up as well, and I could have sworn I heard her chuckle beneath her breath. I would have been sure if it weren’t for Mr. Demon’s boisterous laughter fluttering through the air just then.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re more unbelievable.” I quipped back, making a pointed reference to not only his personality but also to his demon nature. But, you know, even though he’s unbelievable, even though he has cooties, even though he’s Mr. Demon, I can’t help myself. Maybe I’m not honest all the time. Maybe, sometimes, I lie about not liking the boy I always bully.

Just like a five-year-old.

Because, at the end of the day, he’s not such a bad guy, you know?

Him, the Gumiho, the Tokebi, the Dokkaebi, the Haechi, and the Xiezhi. At the end of the day, I’m acting childish. I’m acting childish because that’s what I do with Sehun. That’s what I do with my best friend. I feed him. I . I’m childish with him.

I feed them. I tease them. I’m childish with them.

How long has it been again?

Things are moving fast, aren’t they? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to slow it down starting now.

Now, as I follow Mr. Demon to Ms. Kim’s house, the nameless woman tagging along because I promised to help her despite having no idea exactly how I’d go about doing it. Despite having no idea what it was exactly that I’d be helping her with.

And when we got there, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the sight of a stone-faced Jung Daehyun, the Tokebi, and a less than enthusiastic Kim Himchan, the Gumiho, in pink frilly aprons, spatulas in one hand and whisks in the other.

So much for cracking down the whip.