“Look at ‘em. Living it up, running this way and that like mini-shots of endless stamina and adrenaline.” Yongguk shook his head, leaning back onto his palms as he stared out into the front yard of the shrine, kicking his legs back and forth from his position on the raised wooden floor, “Like they don’t have a care in this world or the next. Bright eyes and brighter futures, that’s what they have. A shame they could never fulfill the dreams they didn’t get to have yet. You hearin’ me, Sora?”

“As much as your affection for children is truly endearing and heartfelt, and I mean that sincerely, it really is,” I stood on the tips of my toes, dragging the feather duster in between my fingers across the top of the shrine’s inner temple, where visitors offered their prayers and spirits bid their farewells to statues I still didn’t know the meaning of, “I hope it’s quite clear how I feel about the entire situation by now and how I’d rather hear anything but their voices and, or reports on the vivacity that fills them.”

“You don’t like kids?” An honest sounding question considering it came from between Mr. Demon’s lips, so much so I couldn’t help but answer honestly as well.

“No,” I turned, finding him to have done the same, all two of his eyes on me as he waited attentively, enamored by the subject of “children” much more than I’d originally thought he’d be, “to clarify, kids don’t like me.”

He nodded his head, seemingly agreeing with the statement – something I had no right to be angry over considering I’m the one who said it, though it was hard to fight against the scowl that etched itself into my face then – before commenting, out of nowhere, “You’d make a good mother.”

My eyebrows raised upwards on reflex at the very notion of his nonsensical, ridiculous, borderline crazy deduction, “Are you being sarcastic?”

Because there was no way he was being serious.

I mean, we’ve established he can “do” serious, but he isn’t naturally so. He stared at me for a bit, as though asking himself what the appropriate answer would be for my question. And, for a moment, I thought he’d say no.

No, Sora, I’m not being sarcastic. Despite your violent tendencies, your potty mouth, and your impulsive personality that causes you to act callously because you’re scared of getting too close to people, you’d make a good mother. But, nope.

Apparently, none of my good points occurred to him as he answered my question with a shrug of his shoulders and a nonchalant, “Yeah, I’m just screwing with your psyche. You know, just burying my little nest egg deep down in there so that, even if you want to, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

He mimicked the idea as he put the tip of his index finger to his temple, repeatedly jabbing it against his hairline. I ignored him, as those things you don’t want to deal with are best left ignored than noticed, directing my gaze towards the little spirit boy and spirit girl who currently played a game of tag with Jongup – who, let’s be honest, could go into Haechi, half dog half lion thing, form and end the game in a matter of milliseconds.

Which, yes, he could do, be the way. Imagine my surprise to find him in dog-lion form in the bathtub of Ms. Kim’s, having a nice, furry soak. Let’s not talk about how or when it happened, it just did, okay?

Moving on, I put my hands to my hips now, letting out a sigh, “Now doesn’t that sound familiar?”

I watched as Jongup got tagged “it” again, his hunched over, Tyrannosaurus-Rex like form stomping this way and that as the two kids ran around him in a circle. But, I get it. He was being nice. He was being nice because he liked kids, too. Am I alone in my less than favorable opinion then?

“I just don’t get it.”

I approached Yongguk, squatting down adjacent to him, my knee brushing against his shoulder as I whispered in, I must admit, quite the complaining kind of tone, my hands gesturing in a manner that was almost as silly as Jongup’s current raptor claws.

“Two weeks ago they were all up for going on adventures around the city whether we were even willing to or not in order to find their ‘place’ on this human plane of existence and now all they want to do is stayed holed up in the shrine morning, noon, and night? Doesn’t something seem kind of off to you about all of this?”

“You’re preaching to the choir. I’ve been thinking those kids are hiding something from us since day one, around three seconds after you agreed to look after them in the first place,” he said as he leaned towards me, using my leg as a backrest, slyly and casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. As though I wouldn’t even notice he’d done it at all. But, we must all agree that whilst a person can ignore something they’d rather not deal with, when said intolerable entity pushes itself up against us, it’s then that we reach the pinnacle of annoyance.

I shifted my leg from under him, deciding to stand up again instead, and his head went banging down onto the wooden floor. I pretended I didn’t know his pain as I continued our conversation, his outward groan as he cradled his head a sight for sore eyes, “Should I ask the others if they’ve noticed anything weird? I’ve honestly been so caught up in Dorothy and Toto’s tornado-like pace I haven’t even stopped to sniff the roses.”

Getting over his head trauma, he sat up again, clearing his throat, as though that’d make his rough, grungy voice any clearer, before deciding he’d give me a piece of his infamous advice. Infamous because, as far as I can remember, it’s never good but he sure as hell loves to give it – just like the spirit he then proceeded to mention. “I’d advise against blabbering to Youngjae about all these thoughts of yours though. He’d never let you live it down.”

“You’re a bit late on that one.” I casted a look over my shoulder towards my grandfather’s study, the door between the main room of the shrine and it open, the Dokkaebi looking like an old man as he sat like a French model waiting to be drawn by Leonardo DiCaprio on the floor, reading the newspaper with a pair of fake, half-framed glasses on. It’s the trend, he claimed. You look dumb, Daehyun said. I agree, I agreed. And now, I sighed again, “Youngjae’s been guilt tripping me since day one.” 

“Damn,” Yongguk crossed his legs in front of himself, tsking loudly before, with big, batting eyes, he looked up at me. His thick bottom lip that jutted out from beneath his upper caused him to form the most disgustingly childish pout I’d ever seen, though Sehun’s were right up there with it, close seconds, “And here I thought I’d beat him to the punch in telling you ‘I told you so.’”

I promptly shoved the feather duster I held in his face being kicking his back without a single word of warning, sending him tumbling over and off the risen, wooden platform, face planting onto the ground.

Another sight for these sore eyes of mine.

“I don’t wanna go!”

“It’s just the supermarket!”

“Let me go or I’ll cry!”

“Cry, then!”

A high-pitched sound akin to the phonetic sound of the word “wah” filled the air, almost knocking me unconscious with its hypersonic-like waves alone. With squinted eyes, I continued to tug at the young spirit girl’s legs, looking to physically drag her away from the shrine, necessity demanding it from me. And she, if it wasn’t already obvious, wasn’t taking the sudden eviction all too well.

“It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than you yelling in my ear for me to put up with your passive self for another day!”

She continued to wail despite my words.

“At least tell me why you don’t want to go!”

“Let me go!” She persisted, half-sobbing and half-screaming now.

Once more, obviously, it was beginning to tick me off.

The soothing words of Jongup and Himchan were muffled, the judging glances of Daehyun, Zelo, and Youngjae were too far away to catch sight of completely, and the unreadable expression on Mr. Demon’s face failed to stop me in my downward spiral.

“Do you have any idea how difficult you’re being right now for no reason at all? How am I supposed to help you when you won’t let me?”

She shook her head, clinging to the support beam of the over-hanging roof, yelling at the top of her lungs, “I don’t care!”

And I stopped. I stopped because I was being looked down upon. Unappreciated, I suppose is a better way of putting it. Okay, I get it, I’m not mother material. I’m not some angel in human skin who smiles and helps others as though some god high up in the clouds put me on this earth for that sole reason.

I’m not good-natured, I’m bad tempered. I’m scared of getting close to others because who isn’t? Who says they aren’t and isn’t lying? But, you know what, life’s too damn short to worry about like that.

My time on this rock is too precious to waste it on someone, dead or living, who doesn’t want my help.

“Then this!”

I concluded, dropping her feet, letting her cling to that support beam as tight as she wished. When looking back on it, I was much more uncouth with my manner than I had originally thought. Still, I don’t regret it. I don’t regret lecturing one-sidedly at her. I don’t regret pouring over the bucket of my feelings. Metaphorically spilling the beans and literally talking so quickly I felt like throwing up. Life’s too short. Too damn short.

To know my speech to the little, nameless, spirit girl verbatim, with nothing left out, refer to the following: “If you don’t care about your afterlife, why should I, huh? Why should I give a flying where you go or what you do if it means nothing to you in the end? I gave myself up to the craziness that is my life right now by accepting your plea for my assistance and, out of nowhere, you want to push me away?

You’re not allowed to do that! You’re not allowed to give up on yourself while simultaneously wanting others not to! You don’t care? Then, I don’t either! Roam this earth for a century or more, find your place on your own because I’m too ing busy already trying to find out where I fit into all of this, let alone you!”

And I stormed off, just like that, the little girl’s cries muted, her brother’s eyes staring at me widely, five spirits and a demon but a blur as I grabbed my jacket and my purse before setting off down the steps, away from the shrine.

I know I’m slightly, if not wholly, narcissistic. I know I made her and her brother’s struggle about me. I probably made Sulli’s and Dara’s about me as well. Because I thought, emphasis on the past tense usage of the word, that it would help me figure out my place, how I fit into my grandfather’s shoes. How I fit into this big world full of humans and spirits and demons and who knows what else? And, mostly, if I wanted to fit in at all.

Just know, at the very least, that I’m willing to admit my faults. Even if I twist the truth, even if I lie to all of you without a second thought, know that when it comes to judging myself, I’m my own worst critic.

Because I have a hell of a lot more bad qualities than good ones.