The stench, dampness, slime, and darkness oppressed her and put her in a foul mood. She’d tried to clear away the dirk, bugs, and rats. She had managed to raise her makeshift bed with old wooden crates; she kept her possessions dry, clean, by placing them within metal boxes. The squeaking of rats, the scraping of their creepy little feet made her grind her teeth. Somewhere, the drip, drip, drip of water mocked her.

“Shut up.” She placed her hands over her ears. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

A cockroach scurried by, followed by a disgusting fat rat. The roach crept over her foot; that was when the rat caught it, settling on the soft skin of her foot to eat its disgusting meal. A high pitched screech echoed through the tunnel as she flung the dirty rodent off her. It squeaked as it slammed against the curved wall of the tunnel, dying. Its broken carcass landed atop one of her metal boxes. She glared at the lifeless vermin, her ragged breathing giving way to a wrath-filled screech.

Through the echo of her frustration, the soft, lighthearted chuckles of a man came through.

“Shut up!”

The man’s chuckles gradually morphed into a pleasant crystalline laugh.

“Youngil-ah,” the voice called. “Youngil-ah.”

“Shut up!” the witch screeched. She whirled around, hex ready.

But there was no one. Peals of beautiful laughter ran louder, surrounding her, oppressing her. “You failed, Youngil-ah.”

“Shut up!”

She whir