She was pretty.

I neither thought nor cared beyond that fact when I first saw her. 

She was nice to look at and since I was in the business of staring at things and people for the rest of eternity, I kept her close at hand. She wasn’t particularly sweet or pure. She wasn’t particularly outspoken or hard-headed. She was just pretty. She was a precious toy that adored me. A toy that thought I was the toy instead. 

Because she liked how I looked too. 

We spoiled each other like this. 

She labeled me her “boyfriend.” She took me places like she would a small dog, dragging me behind her by the collar. She fed me lavishly like I were a pure bred who deserved nothing less. I returned the favor and she reveled in the attention each and every time. 

Thinking back on it, I’m able to understand the nature of our relationship based upon mutual benefits — both physical and social. Living back in it, I thought I “loved” this poor girl. This girl whose name I forget with each ring in of the Lunar New Year. This girl whose face I never forget. This girl who caused me to meet Park Sangmin. 

Because this girl was alive, and I was dead. 

But, the thing is, she was selfish and vain. She hurt others. She told lies on a daily basis. The one she liked to tell the most was thus: “We’ll be together forever. I’d follow you anywhere.” She helped absolutely no one throughout her entire existence on the plane of the living.

She was easy to play with like this though. That’s why I choose her. That, and because she was pretty. 

She was pretty, and I wanted to make her come through with her promises — her lies. 

Because I didn’t want to give up my toy, when death came a knockin’ earlier than usual, I tried to drag her down with me. 

But, the thing is, because she had done no good, because she held a strong attachment to nothing but me, because she regretted a single thing, she turned into something. Black shadows engulfed her, her body became shapeless, her consistency became that of the wind, and yet she weighed heavy in my arms. Yet, she suffocated me with her warmth. Yet, her voice that I can’t remember anymore became garbled nonsense as she leaned into me. 

Hugging me, crying, biting down with rotten jaws.

And then she ate me.

It was disgusting, being in the belly of such a beast.

But, wasn’t this what I wanted? To be acknowledged? To have someone so pretty call my name as though singing it from one corner of the Spirit plane to the next? To become important, as essential as life itself, to the woman I called my “toy”? 

It was. 

And it wasn’t. 

I was disgusted by the stench of the bubbling acid which crept up my nose, by the warm liquid my fingers ran through that burned away at my skin, and the fact that I had just been eaten by such a low-level demon. 

Me: a capable spirit; a Tokebi; Jung Daehyun.

“Look at how far you’ve fallen,” were Yoo Youngjae’s words as his fingers tore into the stomach of the monster, ripping me out of the gelatin like mass of black. I felt like puking, even though I hadn’t eaten in days, as my vision cleared and I caught sight of her. Her, who didn’t become the beautiful spirit I wanted to keep by my side. The reason? The reason besides the fact that she had never done anything for anyone except herself?

She had one regret as she fastened herself to me: she didn’t want to die. After all the promises and all the time I wasted on her, she’d throw me into the fiery flames of the center of the Earth as long as it meant she got to live one more moment of her cockroach like-existence. I was angry. Did I need anymore reason to be?

And suddenly, I was starving. 

So, with my blunt fingertips, I tore into her being and ate her. I returned the favor she did me. Piece by piece, vile splotches of black splattered across my skin while she voiced unintelligible screams. 

Yoo Youngjae watched me in silence as I devoured her. 

When the last strip of chewy black slipped down my throat, I wiped my mouth and laughed. 

And for the next two years, I fed on low-level demons. The pretty ones, the ugly ones, I had no preference. Soon, I didn’t care if I ended up eating a spirit or two. Or three. Or ten. Or fifty. Or hundreds.

It tasted good. I felt fantastic. I fed myself until I became bigger, my appearance changed, and an unidentifiable stench followed me everywhere.

If I stayed too long in one place, plants would begin to die, animals would run away, the living would become sick, and life itself deteriorated. I both hated and loved myself. I was both satisfied and unsatisfied with myself. 

It was then that I met Bang Yongguk. It was then that Park Sangmin appeared before my eyes for the very first time, a Gumiho and that low-level demon at his side. 

And I entertained an idea I was never able to make reality. 

What would a human taste like?

The very suggestion put a smile on my face.

I tried, and I failed to ever know if it was sweet, sour, or bitter. 

Youngjae, my friend who had followed me there to my lowest point, who would proceed to follow me forever even after that, turned against me. The Gumiho and the low-level demon together brought me to my knees — or, at least, where my knees would’ve been. And Youngjae ripped me open, and Park Sangmin pulled me from the stomach of the beast I had become — my soul, my being, and my very unsatisfied self brought back to the Spirit plane I had abandoned. 

I had developed an unhealthy habit, I know that. 

Since then, my past habit has failed to resurface. 

Still, that doesn’t mean the story ends just like that. There are many more out there who are what I used to be. No matter how rare they are, you can tell when they’re there. Wilted flowers, yapping dogs, and the coughs of the living filled the supermarket we all now presently stood in.

We watched as Park Sora came waltzing in with her hands stuffed into her pockets and a frown on her face. She had given in to Jongup, just like we thought she would. She’s weak like that. She’s kind and pure like that. She’s opinionated and stubborn like that. 

She feeds me well too. 

It was then that the screams of children filled the air and black continuously flashed across my eyes. Sora’s yell pierced through my eardrums, fading farther and farther away until her voice was unintelligible.  

Still, that doesn’t mean the story ends just like that.

Did you know?

My first thought upon meeting Park Sora was thus: she’s pretty.

Did you want to know?

I’m starving.