“So... are we going to talk about what the hell happened last night?” Eunwoo finally asks. 

The five of them—Yebin, Minkyung, Kyungwon, Nayoung, and Eunwoo, are jammed into one of the diner’s booths. 

Minkyung stabs her fork into her waffle. The diner no longer has the comforting atmosphere it used to—now the red and purple tints of the neon lights only make her anxious. 

“Well... What is there to talk about, specifically?” she says.

“The fact that you and Yebin literally disappeared from the fabric of reality right in front of our ing eyes, and apparently appeared in your apartment 6 hours later.”

“Do you think either of us understand what the hell is happening either?” Yebin says, rubbing her temples like she has a headache. 

Kyungwon nudges Minkyung. “The pictures, show them the pictures.”

Minkyung reaches into her bag and pulls out a manilla file folder, spreading it open on the table. 

“This is everything I’ve taken. Trust me, they’re all film. I haven’t manipulated them at all, trust me.” 

Eunwoo squints at one of the polaroids. 

“These are pictures of... you two.”

“Yup.”

“But you took them?”

“Isn’t that the question.”

Minkyung trudges up the hill, into the graveyard.

It’s unnaturally huge—centuries worth of bodies lie just feet below the ground. People born in Diamond City often don’t leave it, even in death. 

Despite the size, Minkyung can always find her parent’s grave. It’s under a huge cherry tree to the east, one with a huge knobby trunk that she used to climb when she was younger. 

It’s not like her parents bodies are buried there. Their bodies were too mangled by the horrific accident that they were instead cremated for a more beautiful goodbye. 

Minkyung was the one too toss the ashes into the canyon. It’s what they would’ve wanted anyway, or that’s what she hopes—her parents loved the woods of the mountain, and taking hikes around the canyon. She didn’t want them to be locked under the earth for years and years. 

The graves are more for Minkyung—something to visit, to sit by, to pretend her parent’s spirits are there. The graveyard had once been a favorite spot for Minkyung and her mother to go visit, because it was so secluded and peaceful, and they’d sit under this very cherry tree, her mother reading aloud to her. 

Now she sits and reads aloud to both of her parents. 

She reaches into her bag as she squats under the cherry tree, pulling out a copy of Jane Eyre, her mother’s favorite novel.

“Where’d we leave off, guys?” she says aloud, setting down her camera and her things on the ground. “We started again, didn’t we. Hmm.” She flips through the dog eared, fading pages of the book. “Oh, here.”

A light breeze ruffles her hair as she starts. 

“My heart beat thick, my head grew hot; a sound filled my ears, which I deemed the rushing of wings: something seemed near me; I was oppressed, suffocated: endurance broke down—I uttered a wild, involuntary cry—I rushed to the door and shook the lock in a desperate effort.” She grins at the slabs of granite embellished with her mother and father’s names. “Spooky, huh?” 

Out of her periphery, she senses a flash, and hears the click of a camera. She turns to see the Polaroid, which lies on the ground next to her, printing something out. Another photo. It took a photo on its own. 

Minkyung’s stomach crawls. 

Anxiously, fingers trembling, she reaches for the photo, waiting for it to develop, pressing it down on top of the pages of the book, over a nicely drawn illustration labeled “The Red Room”. 

Slowly, the picture turns from a chemical mess into actually something—an image of a pair of people under a tree. As the picture becomes clearer, Minkyung feels her breath stutter inside like it can’t quite get out. 

The photo is of her and her mother, under the same cherry tree she now sits under. In the picture—she’s only maybe 10, and her mother is holding a copy of Jane Eyre, peacefully reading to her young, innocent daughter. 

Before Minkyung can fully process anything, she hears another click, then another, then another. She turns to the camera, which is uncontrollably spitting out Polaroids at what seems to be lightning speed, and it’s vibrating on the ground, like its about to combust. She hops back, another Polaroid hitting her leg, before the camera finally glows with a red light and then suddenly, with a crackle and a snap, explodes. 

Plastic and glass shrapnel flies into the air, and Minkyung ducks as a few more Polaroids hit her cheek and elbow.

She looks at the pictures scattered around her. 

Minkyung at her 16th birthday party. 

Newborn Minkyung. 

Minkyung drinking for the first time at age 15. 

Minkyung taking photos of Yebin climbing a tree.

Minkyung at her parent’s funeral. 

Minkyung sobbing alone in her room at age 6 while her parents fight. 

And the last one, which makes her entire body practically retch—Minkyung lying in a coffin. 

She’s about to panic, when the noise of distant sobs interrupts her.

Down the hill, two figures approach. 

Yebin and Kyungwon. But Yebin is in a black dress and coat, sobbing into a tissue while Kyungwon, also in what looks to be funeral attire, rubs her shoulders, whispering.

“I just miss her so much! She was gone too soon.” Yebin cries. 

“It’s ok. I’m sure she’s resting peacefully with her parents now.” Kyungwon assures. 

Confused, Minkyung looks underneath her. 

She’s sitting on a granite slab, marked “Rest in peace Kim Minkyung. Gone too soon.”

“Yebin!” she shouts, on instinct. The sobbing girl and her companion look up, meeting Minkyung’s eyes with just as much confusion as her, before a sudden, loud scratching noise echoes in the sky of the graveyard. Kyungwon and Yebin both say something, but it goes unheard as their bodies flicker away like dying lightbulbs. For a split second, Minkyung swears they look like the mysterious figures she’s so commonly stalked by. When they suddenly blip away from reality, Minkyung looks under her to see her gravestone gone. 

Panting with anxiety, she begins to gather the photos. 

Why is it that every time something happens, it leaves her more confused than before?

“You broke my camera!” Wonwoo exclaims. “ing how? I thought you were the photography expert.” 

“Things happen.” Minkyung says nervously, fiddling with her fingers behind her back.

“Listen, just give it to me and I’ll fix it.” he says, sticking his hand out. 

“I really don’t think it’s fixable.”

“Anything is fixable.”

“It kind of... exploded.”

Wonwoo’s fist slams down on the coffee shop counter. 

“Excuse me?” 

At the sound of his voice, several customers, mostly there to take advantage of the wifi, look up.

“It was an accident.” Minkyung says, embarrassed. 

“I knew it. Knew I shouldn’t have trusted you with it.”

“What the is that supposed to mean?”

Wonwoo’s voice lowers a decibel. 

“Because you like to ruin everything, Minkyung.”

Her face only grows hotter. 

“Can you not bring up our idiotic past in public!” she exclaims, trying her hardest to keep from yelling.

Wonwoo turns to pick up a dirty cup, rubbing it with his rag. 

“I didn’t mention anything about ‘our past’.”

“It was implied.”

“Excuse me!” Sooyoung, the shop’s owner, shouts over the two of them. “If you’re going to get in fights, at least do it in the back.” She gestures to a door leading to the often not-used back patio. 

Wonwoo shrugs, setting down the cup and the towel. 

“I’m sorry, ok.” Minkyung continues. “I’m just self conscious about that stuff. And I’m sorry about your camera exploding too.” 

The two of them head through the door into the patio, which is flush with afternoon light, and completely empty. 

Wonwoo reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a box of cigarettes. 

“Minky-“

“Don’t call me that.”

“Ok. Minkyung. Why’d you come here then? If my camera supposedly exploded, why’d you tell me? Why not just keep it a secret. Why not lie.” He clicks open his lighter. “You’re especially good at that.”

“Can you not be an egotistical for two seconds?”

“Could say the same for you.” 

“Jesus. You were so nice when Yebin and I borrowed the camera. What’s your deal now? Back to hating me, just like the old times?” 

Wonwoo takes a long drag on his cigarette as they both sit down at a tiny table, as far away from the noise of the cafe as possible. 

“Because. I respect Yebin, at least. Even if she’s part of the reason I ‘hate’ you, to use your words, she’s innocent. She didn’t do anything.” 

“I never did anything!” Minkyung exclaims, fingers gripping tight into her skin so hard they might bleed. 

“You strung me along for three years. You ruined my friendship with one of my best friends because you were ing in love with her, and you didn’t want to admit you were a giant lesbo, and you still don’t. And when we broke up, you spread rumors about me. You didn’t even let me come to your parents goddamn funeral, despite the fact that I loved them more than my real parents. You’re the egocentric one, you only care about yourself and the people you deem important to you, and you like to make ing everything about yourself, and you never properly apologize for .” Wonwoo blows a cloud of smoke out of his lips. “There. You happy?”

A silence lands between the two, thicker than syrup. 

Minkyung scrapes her nails against the grated surface of the table, tears welling up in her eyes, because he’s right. That’s what makes it so stupid, what makes her so stupid.

Wonwoo suddenly looks concerned the moment he sees Minkyung starting to cry. 

“I’m sorry.” He leans forward, snubbing his cigarette on his pant leg. “I went too far.”

“It’s fine.” Minkyung rubs her jacket sleeve against her face. “You are completely right. I’m sorry. I can’t ing—“ She stops to hiccup a sob. “I can’t ing deal right now, that’s all. My world is falling apart.” She leans back her head, like it’ll stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Wonwoo. I’m sorry for all that I pulled. There’s no excuse, and just a sorry won’t cut it, but I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

“That’s all you’ve got! Just ‘it’s cool’!” Minkyung says, giggling, the sudden absurdity of the entire situation she’s currently in hitting her. 

“I’ve never been a very expressive man.” Wonwoo replies, with a weak smile. “I’m worried about you, Minky. I can’t be mad at you forever, it’s ridiculous of me. It won’t solve anything.” 

“You have a right to be pissed at me.”

“Ok then, I’m pissed at you because you’re putting yourself in immense danger constantly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Wonwoo leans back in his chair, balancing with his foot as he clicks his lighter on and off—probably a reflex to stop himself from smoking another cigarette. “Getting lost in the woods for five days? Getting injured by falling down hills? Whatever the happened on the roof that one night that Soonyoung refuses to talk about? The incident that apparently caused my camera to explode? Whatever you’re doing, you need to stop it before you seriously get hurt. It’s not just ghost hunting anymore, there’s something more going on, and though no one seems to want to talk to me about it, it’s best for you if you stop whatever it is.” He leans in close, lighter still flickering on and off. “There’s more to this town than you think, and it’s best you stay away before something more than a scrape or a bruise happens.”

“Wonwoo, I—“ Minkyung tries to interrupt him.

“By the way, yes, I do have another Polaroid camera if you need it. I figured that’s what you were here to ask about. I’ll drop it by your apartment tomorrow. Just stay safe, ok Minky? You have my number if you need it. I should get back to work.” He stands up, walking back through the door and into the cafe, leaving Minkyung stunned and alone, tears still grazing her cheeks.

“I’m stuck.” Minkyung puts her head in her hands, staring down at the photos for the hundredth time. “I don’t get it, I don’t know what to do anymore. No leads. I spent all of work staring at these dumb pictures. Nothing.”

Eunwoo looks up from the photo of Minkyung she had been so intricately studying. 

“How about we go back to the start?” she says with a shrug.

“Like time travel? At this point, wouldn’t even be surprised if that’s possible.”

“No, I mean, like back to that tower. It was once you guys took the photo of that first ghost that everything started happening, right?”

“No!” Yebin exclaims. “No way am I going back to that tower or that bridge. That was the scariest day of my life.” 

Minkyung puts her hand on Yebin’s leg without thinking. 

“It’ll be fine. We’ll just go look around a little, nothing big. I’ll stay with you, ok?”

“But what if we get stuck in there for another five days? Or five months? Or five years?” 

Minkyung’s fingers crawl to Yebin’s, clasping the other girl’s arm. 

“We have to stop this somehow, whatever it takes.”

“If you want, Yebin, you can stay here with me.” Kyungwon says, looking up from the dishes she’s currently scrubbing. 

“No. I’ll go.” Yebin says, squeezing Minkyung’s hand. “I want to be brave.”

“I would like to come.” 

They turn to see Nayoung at the doorway, carrying two things: a backpack and a rifle, resting over her shoulder.

“Nayoung!” Eunwoo yelps. “Where the flying hell did you get that!” 

“It was my grandma’s. She used to take me out for target practice in the woods. I’m pretty handy with it, actually.” Nayoung says, the tiniest proud smile creeping onto her lips. 

“I don’t know if we need a g-“ 

“It’s my responsibility to make sure my employees,” she gestures at Yebin, “are safe. You don’t know what’s out there.” 

Kyungwon sighs, stacking the dishes on the countertop. 

“I suppose if you’re all going, I should come as well.” 

“Yay!” Eunwoo grins, clapping her hands. “This is perfect! I’m going to go call Soonyoung and tell him I’ll be out for the night.”

“Or the year.” Yebin mumbles.

Minkyung feels a renewed strength in her veins, and picks the camera Wonwoo dropped off up. It’s one of the newer, fancier models, with a soft pink pastel color. Minkyung remembers asking for the exact same thing for her birthday once, and she pauses and wonders if that’s why Wonwoo has it. 

Whatever. 

On the back is a sticky note, reading, ‘Don’t break this. Here’s my number in case you forgot it, because I know you did.”

She smiles at the scrawled number, glad because she had indeed forgotten it, but had been too full of herself to ask for it again. 

He did know her pretty well. 

She lets out a sigh, and stands up.

“Let’s go, guys, the night is young.”

“There!” Eunwoo shouts, pointing her flashlight at the fire tower. 

The shadowy structure is illuminated by red light from within. 

Minkyung feels something—perhaps deja vu, or an odd premonition—as she approaches the tower. The last time she was here, she had been so eager to discover whatever secrets the town had to hide, but now, she felt utterly ridden with anxiety as she stared at the red light glowing through the windows. 

“Are we good?” Nayoung asks, gently placing her hand on Minkyung’s shoulder. 

Minkyung shudders in a deep breath.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“It’ll be fine.” Yebin gives her a smile, and Minkyung admires that the other girl is putting on her brave face—she knows how easily scared she gets. Gently, she lets their hands interlope. 

“I volunteer to go in first.” Kyungwon says. “I’m kind of interested in this.” 

The group walks to the bottom of the tower, the ominous red light reflecting down their faces. Kyungwon bites her lip, and then starts her trek up the stairs, which rattle under her feet as her long legs stomp their way up.

“Let’s get it over with.” Yebin says, tugging on Minkyung’s arm. They start their way up too, followed by Eunwoo, and Nayoung at the back. 

The stairs seem to creak with the rhythm of the summer wind, like the ghosts are whispering to the group to go away.

When they reach the top, Minkyung notices that the once-shattered lightbulb has been replaced with a new one, the wire gently swaying it back and forth, but that the record player is off—no record in it. The books are still all over the floor. 

Kyungwon ducks inside. 

“This is neat!”

“That’s one word for it.” Minkyung remarks, following her in, and kneeling onto the ground. She wants to get a good look at the books—perhaps hoping for some sort of clue. 

The pages are dog-eared, torn up, and worn, many with scribbled marks in pen. She squints, turning on her phone flashlight to get a better look. Next to an old-timey diagram of a solar system, several question marks appear in pen. There’s a newer book, one exploring the possibility of the multiple dimension theory, which is covered in barely readable scrawls and yellow highlighter. Under a large book on witchcraft Minkyung finds something quite interesting—a small journal, plain, with a red canvas cover. 

Intrigued, she sits down at the cot by the window, thumbing through. There’s lots of hastily drawn sketches, some she recognizes as the horrifying red-eyed figures, and towards the back, a large painting that appears to be of some mass of red shapes forming a tear—rather abstract. In messy paint, the word “GLITCH” is written.

Minkyung is about to tell everyone about her findings, when a sudden screech stuns everyone, the noise coming from within the woods, accompanied by distant screams. Quickly, she turns to look out the window, and sees a car hurtling through the trees. The car doesn’t stop, as if some invisible force is dragging it along, and abruptly, it speeds forward and off the cliff edge, holding in the air for a split second before it tumbles down into the canyon. 

Everyone in the tower screams, except for Minkyung—because she knows whose car it is. 

It’s her parents. 

The one they were driving when they died.