The multi-shade-haired man shivered as he looked around for a gas station, the time nearing midnight. The country was cold and harsh and his car was almost out of gas despite his scrimping and saving, turning off the heat in the cold rain, reducing his speed to a crawl. The rain, splattering across his windshield like the blood of the fallen, or the tears of the angels, dripping in ceaseless agony. This damned rain seemed agonizing to the young adult at the very least, especially in his current situation. It seemed indescribably thick as he tried his best to see past it, his wipers on the lowest setting. Much to the man's demise, there seemed to be no sign of the rain letting up any time soon either, and as he watched the needle on his gas guage slip to empty and he was riding on fumes, he realized that perhaps it would just be better to pull over at a house for the night and call someone for help in the morning. There weren't many houses nearby, no, but one he saw, quite old-looking, still the traditional, wealthy family style, was within running distance from the road. Pulling over and stopping his car, the brown-and-blonde-haired man took a deep breath, getting ready to brace himself for the cold sky water to pelt him as he ran. Turning off his car and shoving everything he needed in his pockets, he began to open his door, getting out quickly, making sure to close and lock the door before he took off running towards the home. Puddles splashed as he ran through them and he nearly fell in the ditch as a result of the horribly slippery grass beneath his feet. A curse passed his lips as he slid forward on his feet, almost falling again, giving himself the feeling of a small heart attack. Finally, he got to the yard of the house and despite the rain, he couldn't help but admire the elegant nature of it as he ran to the door, sighing in relief as he found himself under the edge of the roof, the rain off of his shoulders and back, though by now he was soaked to the bone and he hair, once spiked up, now lay limply. However, the man wasted no time, checking to make sure the door was unlocked before he slipped off his shoes to carry in, not wanting to track muddy water around the house any more than he had to as he stepped inside.

Despite the emptiness, which he confirmed with a call for anyone who may be there and a view of dust and cobwebs over everything, the air felt warm and calm and candles were lit in places, not very evenly though. It couldn't be possible that someone lived there... Those candles were still completely covered in grime and webs, seemingly untouched... But how were they lit then? At this time, the unexpected guest was too cold and wet to really care too much as he set his shoes down by the door and removed his socks as well, then stepped outside under the edge of the roof once more to try his best to wring out his clothes. When he returned inside, though, he couldn't help but notice that the candles that were once lit were now out, but no smoke floated about as if they had been blown on. He went over and touched a candle... Cold. The wax was stiff as well. Odd... However, he shook his head, brushed it off, and walked around the house before he found a few thick cloths to wipe off a chair, quite an intricate one at that, and sit on the clothes, not wanting to get the beautiful article wet.

"Aish... Baekho, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" the 25-year-old asked himself as he ran a hand through his dripping hair. "'Let's go to a cabin for the weekend', they said... 'It's easy to find', they said. I say they're liars... Aish... That's the last time I ask Aron to write directions for me," he mumbled.

Baekho had been planning to go out with his friends for a men's week. Those friends went by the aliases of Aron and JR. They hadn't seen each other in years, ever since the three had spent a night together in Seoul to go to a concert. Needless to say, it didn't end all too well as did a majority of their plans. Aron had fainted in the middle of the concert from overheating, so Baekho had to carry him back to their hotel, leaving the concert early, and then JR ended up coming back very late with some girl, the both of them seeming fairly drunk... This is why they never hung out. This time was supposed to be different, though. They were going to be away from the rest of the world for a weekend, but in hindsight, maybe being totally away from the world was a horrible idea. No gas stations for miles and bad weather at its worst was none too appealing to the blonde. Admittedly, Baekho was more of a city boy, but he did like the country - under the right circumstances. As one might guess, these were not those circumstances. With a sigh, the man stood from the chair and stretched, looking around. There must be some clothes to wear around here somewhere, right? Maybe there was some preserved food from the previous owner, too.

He searched around the house a while before coming across a kitchen.  Stepping into it, he looked around... It still had the old, traditional cooking pot and no stove, everything there covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs as well. As he turned to leave, something caught his eye... Something bright. What was that behind those webs there, bright red and round? Curious, Baekho went over to discover what it was, soon pulling out the smooth object from the webs... An apple?

"How the-? ...Is it still good?" Baekho asked himself, pulling out his pocket knife, opening it and cutting into the apple, the fruit making the most crisp, fresh cutting sound you could possibly get from any apple. The man ate the small slice he had cut off and deemed it well, pocketing the knife and taking a large bite out of it, chewing slowly.

As the young man watched the apple gradually deplete to its core, he decided to explore the few extra rooms that he hadn't yet seen. He walked from the kitchen to the other side of the house, looking through all the doors. He saw many rooms that appeared to always be vacant, not even any mats down on the floors, though a few did have a couple mats and cushions down; one of which Baekho decided to enter. A desk sat inside the room, though, surprisingly, there were no windows to speak of. On the desk, of course neglected of any form of cleanliness, he saw calligraphy brushes and ink pots, not to mention very old paper... Sitting on top of the paper was a glint of something metallic from the lightening outside, which drew him nearer. He squinted a bit as he walked forward, reaching out in the dim light until he felt a hold on the metal, bringing it out to look at it.

Sitting in his hand was a… very, very old hair clasp, made of silver and bronze, colored over mostly in bright red and little yellow accents, though swirls of silver made up the beauty of the design, forming the bodies of dragons. It was dazzlingly shiny and in such good shape for being so old. ‘Whoever left this here,’ Baekho thought, ‘was a fool’. He looked it over a bit longer before putting it down. Even though no one lived here anymore, the clasp was not his and he thought it poor judgment to just take it, even if it was that beautiful and aged. Even so, as it sat on the desk where it belonged, Baekho looked at it, interested. Yes, it was beautiful and old, but there seemed to be more to the piece of metal than that. As he approached again, Baekho heard a wail and jumped nearly out of his skin and all of the candles went out, leaving him disoriented in the pitch black darkness.

“H-Hello?!” the brown-haired man called out, terrified. “Who’s there?! Show yourself!” But no reply came. Both sound and time seemed to stand still until Baekho heard another excruciating-sounding howl. It sounded human, though it shook him to his core, like it had come from a beast. At that point, Baekho made a quick decision to get the HELL out of there, moving quickly with his hands on the wall to find the door of the room, tripping on a floor board as he exited, falling and hitting his jaw.

“God… damn it,” he swore, holding his jaw. Nothing was broken, but it hurt. However, he soon forgot the pain as he got up, the lightening outside illuminating where the door to his exit was. Leaving his shoes for dead, Baekho went immediately for the door, wrenching on it with haste… But it did not open. Cursing every swear word he know, Baekho tried over and over again to open the door, though it refused. Eventually he stopped pulling and resorted to kicking the door… The door had seemed thin, but now as he kicked it, it was as if it was made of 6-inch steel.

Soon, the man ditched that idea as well and went to a window, trying to open or break the glass, however, it acted as if it was Plexiglas, refusing to break as well. There were no other doors to try, it was dark, it was storming, and there was the scream again. It sounded tortured and desperate. It sounded like the shriek of an eternally-damned being. It sounded ethereal. As he huddled himself into a corner, Baekho saw a light and looked up. No… It couldn’t be… They didn’t exist… Ghosts.