Sung-min was eager to see Ryeo-wook again after the show. How dearly he wanted to wipe the ghoulish paint from his friend’s face, and take him somewhere far away from the sounds of death and misery. We could be close again, he thought, just like old times.

As soon as he could, Sung-min escaped Kyu-hyun’s bossy demands and found himself once again wandering through the poorly lit corridors. He heard Ryeo-wook’s voice coming from the dressing room, and immediately walked towards the door, but paused before entering. It appeared that Ryeo-wook was having a private conversation with someone, and he thought that it would probably be rude to interrupt. It would also be quite rude to press an ear to the door and listen in on the conversation, but Sung-min’s inquisitive nature got the best of him, so that’s what he did.

Ryeo-wook was speaking. “Although I think it was improved,” he said, “I know it could have been done better and I hate to have disappointed you.”

“You must be very tired,” came a different voice.

“Forgive me teacher, I wanted to give it my best, but it feels as if I have given all my soul and now I have nothing left...”

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing; to give your soul is the greatest gift. You have been a good student and I have a present for you. Soon, I will give it to you.”

Sung-min stepped back from the door. The conversation had left a burning in his ears and his heart was beating wildly in his chest. Who was this man? This man to whom Ryeo-wook would offer his soul no less! Something about this seemed unnatural to Sung-min, and he wanted to see this man for himself. He stepped back into the shadow, and waited for a chance to confront him.

Ryeo-wook left the room not long after. He was alone. His companion must still be in the dressing room, Sung-min thought, and so he entered through the door, closing it behind him. The lights had been switched off and there appeared to be no one there. He patted the wall beside him, hoping to find the switch to turn the lights back on, but he could find none.

“Who’s there?” Sung-min called, his voice a little shaky. “I know someone must be here. Show yourself!”

There was no reply. Through the darkness Sung-min thought he could see the faint shining of a pair of eyes. “Show yourself,” he repeated, "I know you’re there!”

The eyes became clearer, and in an instant he heard an unmistakable whine of a cat. The black cat he had seen earlier emerged from the darkness, taunting him with its yellow eyes.

A cat! he thought, and now his heart was beating fiercely again. He decided to leave the dressing room in the hope of catching up with Ryeo-wook, who may still be close by. As he left he was sure he heard the sound of human laughter, a stuttered chuckled coming from behind. He shuddered. This whole scenario was far too like an actual ghost story. Perhaps the studio's ghost was more real than he had first imagined.

Sung-min met Ryeo-wook on the street outside. He might have been waiting, Sung-min thought. He looked pleased to see him, and waved when he came over.

“Should we go somewhere?” Ryeo-wook asked.

Sung-min took his arm. “Yes, let’s go somewhere away from here. Somewhere bright and happy. I want to talk to you properly.”

Sung-min’s understanding of bright and happy was closely related to food, and so the two ended up at his regular noodle bar. As usual there were few customers, so they could speak easily without interruption.

“What did you think of tonight?” Ryeo-wook asked, not long into their dinner.

Sung-min contemplated the question with a mouth full of noodles. He thought about the pride he had felt when watching Ryeo-wook perform and so he decided to answer with his heart.

“Your father would be proud of you.”

Ryeo-wook looked away suddenly. “I thought you might say that and I’m glad that you did. It’s funny isn’t it, how we always want to please our parents, even when they’re not here anymore.”

Sung-min knew how close Ryeo-wook and his father had been. He even thought it was pleasantly odd how the old man had accepted his son’s decision to not follow him into the police force.

“It might sound strange to say this,” Ryeo-wook continued, “but I feel as if he is still with me now. I just can't imagine that he is really gone, and he will never hear me sing. I feel that he must be there somehow.”

Sung-min smiled kindly for him. “It’s not strange, that’s quite understandable really.”

Ryeo-wook stirred his soup thoughtfully as he spoke. “When I was a child, I always had this dream of becoming a musician. Dad would tell me a story about a poor boy who becomes possessed by a good spirit, and then miraculously can play any instrument. Of course I imagined that boy was myself, so Dad would never end the story badly...” He trailed off, as if distracted by a sudden thought, and then continued eating from his bowl.

“Why did you choose to sing that suicide song?” Sung-min asked, “It was kind of a morbid choice and the producer wasn’t happy. I liked it though.”

“I didn’t choose the song,” Ryeo-wook replied, his face down over his bowl. “It was his decision.”

“His decision? Who is he?”

Ryeo-wook didn’t reply immediately. He held the spoon to his mouth, but did not eat, instead contemplating it as if it were some fascinating puzzle. Sung-min tapped his fingers as he waited for Ryeo-wook to respond.

“Teacher,” he said at last, still not looking up from the bowl.

“Who is teacher?” Sung-min asked, unaware that his voice had gone up a pitch. He put his hands together and felt that they were sticky with sweat. “Is he the man that you were speaking to after the show? In the dressing room?”

Ryeo-wook looked up so suddenly that it startled Sung-min. He had a confused, fearful look in his eyes. He whispered: “Did you hear something? What did you hear?”

“I heard you speaking to a man. Was that Teacher? Tell me, who is he?”

A sudden fear seemed to have taken over Ryeo-wook; his face was pale and twisted like someone who was about to be sick. Sung-min immediately reached over and took both his hands, holding them warmly in his own.

“Don’t be scared, you’re safe. I’m here.”

Ryeo-wook struggled in his grip, but eventually gave in. He gave Sung-min an apologetic look.

“He’s not a man, it’s just a voice. It speaks me to from time to time, in different places, but mostly when I am getting dressed and no one else is around. Until you just mentioned it, no one else has ever heard the voice, and I thought it was only me.”

“You thought it was all in your head?”

He smiled weakly. “Something like that. A figure of my imagination, because I was lonely and I missed my dad. Sometimes I thought he might have sent me a spirit from the other world to keep me company, and encourage me when I was feeling lost.”

“What does the voice say to you?”

“He gives me advice on how I should sing usually, but sometimes he tells me stories. He gives me good praise sometimes, and other times...” he drifted off suddenly, staring behind Sung-min into the dark window. Sung-min was tempted to turn around, but he could not lift his gaze from the face of his friend which shone with the glow of someone under a spell. “He’s real...” Ryeo-wook said softly, as if thinking aloud.

Sung-min held his hands tighter. “I have a bad feeling about all this Ryeo-wook. It seems to me like someone is taking advantage of you. I hate to say it like this, but there are lots of bad people in the world, and in television in particular. I’m a police officer, I know all about bad people, and if you ask me, this teacher man is going to be after more than just your soul...”

Ryeo-wook narrowed his eyes in distrust. “Why are you speaking like this all of a sudden?”

“I’m worried about you! If something’s out to get you I have to be here to protect you. It’s what your father would have wanted. You’ll be like a brother to me.”

Ryeo-wook violently pulled his hands away. “You are not my brother!” he said loudly, his eyes now fierce with anger and glaring at Sung-min. “After the funeral you never once came to see me, even though you knew that I was alone, and that I had loved you so much. How dare you call me brother!”

Sung-min was completely shocked by Ryeo-wook’s sudden outburst, but he could say nothing to counter the accusations made of him. It was all true, and how he hated himself for it! He vainly reached out a hand to pull Ryeo-wook back, but it was too late, the other had already left the table, and was rushing out towards the street. Sung-min stood up clumsily, knocking the bowl as he did so, and ran out after him. He could just make out Ryeo-wook heading down the main road, but as he started to chase after him, he tripped and fell onto the pavement. He looked up in time to see a figure standing above him. It was a tall man with messy hair. His face was entirely obscured by a white surgical mask.

Sung-min felt a sharp pain in his head before he was plunged into darkness.