Agony.

Bitterness.

Grief.

Heartbreak.

Anger.

None of those could describe the round full moon that escalated into the high night sky. How the ghostly venture came to be after the last inch of soil was tossed over her corpse; her eyes still open from shock and fight. It had ended too soon like a flame going out at a slight moment.

It was unfair and treacherous.

Chorong found herself screaming, blood running out her eyes like tears; the pavilion her into its structure. And since then she couldn’t leave the place. No one could hear her, no one would listen.

Like the hallow of a tree, the dark around her remained resilient. Little light was there for her to see as if everything had been meant to happen against her. Time went on and eventually everyone forgot her. As she saw this her heart continued rotting until one day…one day when she heard a bell ringing and the light grew bigger.

It was sunlight and Chorong saw her coming in through the entrance, a superior blinding light glowed around her.

This was it. She could finally leave.

+++

Gyeongbok Palace was the main royal palace of the Joseon Dynasty, burned by the Japanese and reconstructed years later after abandonment. In honor of a long standing historical palace it has been opened to the public to allow them to learn about history and honor tradition. During the welcome of summer every year Gyeonbok Palace is closed off for two months in preparations for the ceremonies that take place every year to honor Korea’s history. Performances are organized by the city council, the Performance Arts Center, and the Performance Arts School.

It was exactly where Namjoo would be staying the next two months until the celebrations were over.

Short Namjoo could feel the weight of her backpack weighing down over her shoulder as she panted at the red light. Again, she was late that week. Her boss would certainly throw another fit again, but Namjoo could care less right now. A good night’s sleep couldn’t compare to her editing videos all night long.

When a the street cleared up of cars and the green light finally gave way Namjoo spotted her short boss standing on the other side of the street watching her impatiently. His hand was indignantly waving for her to hurry over; the scorn held in his eyes could be read from even far away.

With a soft sigh Namjoo jogged across the street toward him; the wind bristling her hair.

“Why are you so late!?” He scolded, turning to catch up with her as they quickly walked along. “Didn’t I tell you to sleep early last night? If you plan to be late all the time, how are you going to live the rest of your life? If you want to keep this career you should take things more seriously.”

“Well geez, I’m sorry,” Namjoo sputtered without an ounce of sincerity.

From the corner of her eye she could see him looking at with dissatisfaction and roll his eyes in annoyance. For some reason, Xiumin, her boss, always had to argue with her. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was only a few years older, but smarter and more competent so he saw her as a weasel that slid her way around her problems. So much as she knew; he’d been handed the position from a professor while she remained last place during the interview. Even if she tried and worked hard something always went wrong, yet for Xiumin everything went smoothly. He was a darn lucky fly.

They were not of the same pack at all.

One of the coordinators of Gyeonbok Palace was standing in front of the closed entrance waiting for them. He looked to be sweating underneath his white attire. When their eyes met Namjoo almost flinched at the sunlight bouncing off the lens of his glasses. Xiumin’s short laughter of apology entered her ears and while he initiated conversation with the coordinator Namjoo turned to observe the palace.

It was one of the most profound buildings in Seoul. She’d crossed it many times in her life, but this had to be the first time she was actually entering the place. For some reason, she’d just never had the urge to go in before. Even now she still held the same stance…for no particular reason she knew.

Over the tiles she could see the solid blue sky emanating fresh cool air. The palace had dried off with green and red painting designs similar to other palaces. Nothing seemed new and nothing seemed different. The palace seemed as historical a monument as any other she’d seen in her life. Namjoo just wanted to get these two months of the ceremonial observations over with so she could continue her life like always.

“What are you doing?” Xiumin called out.

When brought back to reality she saw that he was already far ahead of her, the heavy bolted doors of the palace had been unlocked and opened. Namjoo hadn’t heard it open surprisingly.

Grumbling underneath her breath she walked after them, but as she as she lifted her foot over the entrance a chill grew over her. As cold struck her skin and her hair flew back only to land onto her shoulders in slow motion something passed through her. Her mind became static like a TV that suddenly became dysfunctional. Strange sounds clouded her senses, like footsteps or someone breathing heavily before the image of two people wrestling appeared in black and white in her head. It wasn’t clear what was going on; Namjoo could only see arms lashing at each other and maybe the cry of someone calling for help.

“Namjoo!” Xiumin raised his voice, immediately catching her attention.

Shooting a glance his way Namjoo picked herself up again to quickly follow before he might decide to fire her.

“This used to be the King’s Quarters, the men will be staying in this building,” the coordinator explained leading them in through the residence hall.

“What about the females?” Namjoo wondered.

“Right behind this building,” the coordinator told. “I’ll take you there in a bit. The dancers from the school will be coming in tomorrow morning…”

Without waiting for him to finish off Namjoo asked in surprised, “That means we’re the only ones here tonight?”

The man seemed to hesitated before nodding his head ever so slightly, “Yes…but the guards stationed here during the meantime will be here too. You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not that easily frightened,” Namjoo mumbled turning to look at the paper windows.

She could feel Xiumin staring at her, silently criticizing her with his eyes before he spoke with the coordinator again. After escaping the King’s Quarters she finally tossed her backpack down when inside the Queen’s Quarters.

“Why couldn’t I have gone to Italy to research their longevity instead of being assigned here with him,” grabbing her bag she stared at the paper window where she sun beams were bouncing off of.

Turning her head she twisted the glance around the room that had been prepared for her. For certain reasons this tiny room didn’t feel like the Queen’s room. It was just a mere room in the shape of a rectangle and a futon.

Nothing spectacular.

“Well I guess I deserve the Queen’s room,” Namjoo nodded her head in slight approval. “If only it had been better prepared.”

Taking a step away from the window she walked around the room to her heart’s desire before falling back onto the futon with silky covers. Namjoo felt like everything was particularly fine until she slept that evening.

As long shadows of the tree branches outside stretched across the windows she lay underneath her covers at first comfortably before her hand suddenly twitched. It felt like a presence was there, yet at the same time nothing was there. However as thoughts continued to transgress through her mind she felt like she was awake, only her eyes were still closed.

Namjoo’s head twisted to the side and the flash of something white suddenly appearing jolted her heart within her chest. For a moment Namjoo couldn’t actually tell if this was her being attacked or if she was feeling someone else being attacked. There was a voice inside her head, maybe it was her screaming or maybe it wasn’t, but she heard a voice for sure; screaming, yelping, pleading, and crying.

Her feet arched the longer the struggle lasted before she suddenly fell toward the ground face first. Namjoo’s eyes sprang open and she immediately sat up with her heart wildly pacing inside her chest. Searching the room showed her evidence that no one had come in and no one was there.

Relieved, she felt her breathing ease, but she was no longer able to sleep. Getting up she pushed the door open and stepped down the empty hallway. Fresh air was always the best medicine after something like this. It assured her she was alive and well, that she was her own self; that she hadn’t played just any kind of story inside her head. It was important to feel sane and not insane.

Before when Namjoo had saw things like this she’d gone to the police, believing she’d seen crimes; felt them emotionally from deep within her mind. They came to her in visions and through feelings. For example the case of a missing 8 year old a few years back. Namjoo certainly saw the child locked up in a cell unfed and unclothed, abused and mistreated. When Namjoo led the cops to the site the girl had been well kept, yet the part about her being mistreated had in fact been correct. She was still belittled for being an exaggerator.

In the case of an unsolved death, Namjoo saw a slaughter inside an apartment. Police investigated, but in the end no blood stains had been detected inside the home. Namjoo was called a hoax, a fake, and a gold digger. She was told she only wanted to create problems.

It wasn’t just these mere cases that turned her life upside down. She’d been called names when she blabbered things she shouldn’t have known about as a child, like her teacher who was quietly getting divorced at the end of the week, or the man at the supermarket who would find out his girlfriend was cheating on him the next day.

Sometimes she was right and sometimes she was wrong. Whenever she was right or wrong, she was criticized nonetheless. These things brought problems to her single mother, who was constantly told to take her away; move somewhere else, transfer her to another school because she was so much disliked, and to get out of the neighborhood because the neighbors didn’t like her presence. They said she was the devil’s spawn, she was bad luck, and often told their children never to approach her. Everyone would stare in curiosity, yet with glaring eyes whenever she walked by. Shunned and kept from others, her mother kept her in isolation until she graduated university.   

“Namjoo-ah, you have to stop. Please, what you see in your head isn’t real.” Her mother had pleaded when they’d moved for the zillionth time.

When she 6 she saw the future. After pointing out the death of a dog that would soon happen within a minute, her panicked mother took her to the mental hospital when the neighbor put a complaint against her from the cops. Namjoo shouldn’t have remembered the incident. Growing up she’d forgot it until her mother cried, pleading with her that the things inside her head were just made up because she wanted attention. For some reason then, Namjoo suddenly recalled the mental institute; white walls that chilled her bones and cries of the sick echoing off the doors to their cells.

No one had ever believed in her, not even for a slight second. She was a liar, she’d been told. She was an attention seeker and that was the end of the story.

As much as Namjoo loved her mom, she felt betrayed down to her very core. Namjoo resented her power, she even hated herself. After leaving home she hadn’t gone back and whatever ever appeared inside her head she always ignored.

Life was as difficult as it already was.

It was chilly that night; colder than should have been, but Namjoo found it relaxing. Closing her eyes she tilted her face toward the starry sky to breath in the scent of the greenery planted around the Queen’s Quarters.

“Please, listen to me,” a smooth voice perked her ears.

Opening her eyes she twisted to look around abruptly. The calm of her heart started to pick up its pace again. Her eyes searched the emptiness around her nervously. There was nothing, but the Servant’s Quarters nearby and the concrete grounds. Twisting around to look behind her she saw no one. She was as alone as the buildings around her.

At this rate she suddenly wasn’t sure whether this was happening inside her head or if it was something else. Agreeing with the first option she jumped off the steps in search of the guards the coordinator had told her about.

After finding two men sitting on the steps of the library smoking and laughing, Namjoo brought them back with her to search the Queen’s Quarters. As she stood outside while waiting for them to complete their search she could feel discomfort easing itself into her. She knew they would come out empty handed. She knew they would tell her no one was there.

When their footsteps neared Namjoo lifted her head up from the ground to see the men shaking their heads.

“There’s no one inside, Miss,” one of them spoke.

“You were probably just hearing things,” the other one suggested. “Go in and sleep. Don’t worry about anything, we’re here.”

Namjoo nodded quietly and turned to watch them go, her heart filling itself with a loss. She listened to the guards laugh in unison before they became miniature figures in the distance before she headed inside and closed the doors.

Namjoo hated this. Whatever it was, it wasn’t her problem. She just wanted a normal life. She was only there for a job. This thing inside her head wasn’t her business.

+++

Chorong had hoped that meeting with this vessel would allow her agony to be lifted, but it didn’t seem like it would work. This vessel wasn’t listening. As much as Chorong tried to make her voice heard, she wouldn’t hear her out. Chorong could feel it; that the girl was blocking her.

There was no giving up though. Chorong wanted to move on. She didn’t want to stay in this pavilion any longer. She wanted someone to hear her out so the pain in her heart could stop eating her raw. Someone just needed to listen and maybe she could move on. She’d waited so long for this she wouldn’t give up now.

Moving through the doors she sunk to sit down beside Namjoo who was back under her covers, but lying on her side with her back to Chorong.

“I beg you,” Chorong pleaded. “Just hear me out. Just once. Please.”

The vessel never turned nor made movement to suggest that she was hearing her. Throughout the whole night Chorong sat there watching, waiting.

+++

Feeling stiff the next morning Namjoo refused to get up and lay in bed for the duration of a full hour. It was only when her cellphone began ringing, a call from Xiumin telling her to prepare to greet the Performance Arts School dancers. He’d never allow her personal feelings to interrupt their work schedule. Things for Xiumin always had to be completed on time.

“Be prompt,” he repeated to her on many occasions, “you live for accuracy. This is your job.”

Rolling over she reached for her phone, pressing it to her ear as she rose.

“Where are you? Hurry up, breakfast is here. We have a lot to do today. Bring your camera with you.”

As always, instead of a greeting she was met with orders as soon as she was awake. It seemed to her like Xiumin never got a day’s rest.

There was an order of food for her when she found Xiumin sitting outside the King’s Quarters.

“What’s wrong with you?” He questioned when she picked her bowl up and sat down. “I heard you alerted security last night.”

Unwrapping the wooden chopsticks she raised her eyes to stare at the Queen’s Quarters, “It’s not worth hearing.”

Xiumin seemed to gaze at her questioningly, but said no further.

“Well hurry up,” he told, “we’re meeting with the program coordinator today.”

“Program coordinator?” Namjoo repeated. “Is there something important about him?”

“I never heard of him before, but he’s from China. That should be pretty interesting.” 

***Take note; Namjoo is seeing the past; the things that happened to Chorong of her own accord. The only thing Chorong is doing right now is trying to get Namjoo to hear her voice. You know who Xiumin and Namjoo are talking about at the end, right?