Minkyung wakes up on a tear stained pillow, drool dripping down her chin. Then she coughs, and in complete surprise, a piece of crumpled paper falls out of and into her hand. 

She's still disoriented, distressed, but when she looks around her empty living room, she remembers. Her parents. Her parents—are dead. 

Her phone blinks. 

A text, from Yebin.

u OK?????

No, of course not.

Tears start to well up in her eyes again.

She checks the time, still ignoring the soggy piece of paper in her hand. 

July 12th, 2016. 3 pm.

Was it actually that late? Had she slept that long? 

She looks at the ground to see a bag of Cheetos and a sticky note on them that reads “Sorry about everything. Here if you need it. — Wonwoo.”

That ing . 

She picks up the Cheeto bag, and throws it against the wall as tears come harder and faster. 

Nothing can comfort her right now, not Yebin, not Wonwoo’s misguided attempts at comfort, not anything. them all. 

Finally, she remembers the paper in her hand. Carefully, she smooths it out, a little grossed out by the saliva on it. The red ink is slightly bleeding, but with some squinting she finally reads “Go to the mirror. Take a picture with your film camera.” 

It’s not handwriting that she recognizes, but when she looks at the floor, she notices her film camera where the bag of Cheetos had been. 

Maybe it’s just a primal urge, or some desire to distract her from the grief, but she picks the camera up, inspecting the lens with blurry eyes. 

She stands up, soles of her feet cold on the floor. Sun filters through the window, and it almost hurts Minkyung with its saturated brightness. 

Camera in hand, she wanders in the direction of the bathroom, breath short and fast to keep up with her tears.

Strangely, she doesn't feel as sad as she should. Perhaps it's just not fully sunken in to her psyche yet—that must be it. It's like she's detached from a sense of reality, like this is a dream or an experience already lived through. But she still cries—mourning wracking her entire body. 

She opens the door and flicks on the light, seeing her image in the mirror. Messy, red ink staining her cheek, hair tangled, cheeks covered with tears, eyes puffy and lips dry. Not a moment she wanted to preserve, really. 

She holds the camera up to the mirror, pressing the tiny button. 

The camera flashes, and Minkyung suddenly hears a loud noise. 

Jazz music, suddenly blasting at full volume. The fear almost makes her drop her camera.

It sounds like it’s coming from her parents record player, which is out in the living room.

She turns around to leave the bathroom, when suddenly, the door closes, a slam so forceful it pushes a tiny breeze back onto Minkyung. 

The jazz becomes faint, distant, and fear, riding inside her, crawls all over her body as she turns around. 

The mirror is flickering, like her TV does as it warms up, and suddenly an outline, an outline of a person, appears. It appears to be a female, with eyes that glow red like beacons. 

Minkyung lets out a scream, but it seems muffled by the atmosphere of the room.

The lights switch off.

“M̶̰͇̔͗I̶̮̖̍Ņ̴̿͆K̷̼̆Y̵̼͂͝U̵̦͆͆͜N̷͚̺͠G̸̜̈́̑ͅ”

A voice, horrifying and garbled as if its been slowed down and sped up several times, calls out from the mirror. A strong static noise almost entirely masks, it buzzing all around Minkyung.”

“M I N K Y U N G” 

The figure in the mirror leans forward, putting a hand against the glass. Some of it’s finite details are more visible—hair, face shape, and it looks strangely familiar. 

“What do you want?” Minkyung shouts, hands shaking as she backs against the door, rattling the doorknob.

“Minkyung, it’s me!” the voice shouts, and it’s now recognizable—because it’s Minkyung’s own voice. She looks at the mirror and sees—herself. Or some version of herself, still barely glitching red, an odd staticky fuzz surrounding her. 

Minkyung shakes and shakes, unsure of what to do.

"Go away!" She stutters out, still rattling the doorknob. 

"Minkyung, you have to listen to me." The other her yells over the static, palms pressed flat against the glass. "I'm here to tell you that you need to go talk to Jieqiong. I saw something, something in my camera—she's going to try and stop it all personally, but she can't, she's too weak. It's the 18th run right now, I think this message will reach you by the 23rd. I told Nayoung to deliver this, but she doesn't know what it is—I don't want her to hurt herself too. Listen. Don't let go of your camera. It's your most powerful weapon. And let Wonwoo go to the funeral. He n̷e̷e̷d̵s̴ ḯ̷̡̮͎̃͆t̸̬̝̙̋͜. Ḟ̵̛͈ủ̷͕͛͠c̸͓̦̉̊k̶̟̥̿, Ì̸̬̺'̵̻̰̦̉͜m̶̱͓̿̆͜ ̷͉̣͑͗f̵͔̝̩̆a̵͉̜͌d̶̼͎͕͕̋i̶̬͋͘͜ͅń̵̩̥̦̣̓́g̴̢͊͜. G̶̬͆̚o̸̻̺͔̗͌͝ò̵̥̠͋͋ͅd̸̢̩̽̾͛̆b̴̠͚͓̩̑͘̕͠ỳ̵̗̯͙ë̸̱̙̞̩̌,̷̢̠́́̽ ̶͚̫̋͒̃M̷͉͗i̶̡̝̜͊́̄n̷͈̄͛k̴̢̪̻͗͘͝y̷̤̣͑͠ṷ̷̙̣̮̔n̷͈̠͛͠g̶̤̪̭̘̀.̷̯̳͝ Ȃ̶̢̬͔͓̹̝͖̙̠̭̹̮ ņ̴̡͙̦̜͓̺̙͎̩͕̈́̑͐̈́͗̑̕͝ d̵̡̻͖̗͖̞͐͑̀̓̈́͐̋ ̶̢̰̙̞͉̠̟̰̙̬̒̉̀͑̔̈̎͋̕͝g̸̨̨͇̮̥͙̲͍̲̰̼̊̈́̅͂͑ o̷̖̭̺͑͒̎̈́̿̈͘ ȍ̴̧̭̏̏̆̑̎ d̴̜̰͂̌̕͘ ̸̨̣͔̻͕̯͑̈́̓̒͛͑̃̿̚̚̕͜ĺ̷̬̺͙̜̫̘̼́̽͌̚͜ ū̸̠̟̟͔̥́̎͐̏̀͘ͅ c̷̡̥̘͇̮̩̺̜̦̼̭̺̓͑̏͝ k̸̛̲̫͎̭̩̯͇̖͙̘̣̓̽͐͗͌̾͋̅̕̚.̸͉̲̫̠̺͝" 

Minkyung is left standing there, utterly stunned as the figure in the mirror fades away, the lights snapping back on. She feels the door behind her open, and hears the doorbell ring, but she can't bring herself to move. Then she starts to cry.

Nayoung is falling. She's falling and falling, watching the tiny figure of Minkyung get further and further away. Then she hits the ground. 

It's not that pain that hurts. The pain of being the sacrifice, Nayoung has learned, comes from when everything resets.

It's like your entire body is being ripped into shreds, each individual muscle fiber strained to it's capacity. 

So she screams as she lies suspended in midair, inches above the ground, the sky above flashing red. 

And suddenly, she's lying on the forest floor, nose bleeding.

It's been a while since she's been here, two years in fact.

But she's been here many a time.

It's funny—she's never had to relive the moment of tripping over the tree root and falling to the ground, only the humiliation of it afterward. 

It must've been what, the noise of the crash? Who even knows. It's been so long.

Perhaps this is the closest one gets to immortality. Forced to live the same two demonic years of your youth again and again. At this point, Nayoung has lived 60-something years in this town. And yet, she still has the body of some naive 20 year old. It's a curse, if anything. Pure purgatory. 

She dusts off her knees, muscles still aching. Where was Wonwoo normally at this point?

She wipes some of the blood off her chin, and with chattering legs, stands up, one hand against a nearby tree for support.

"Wonwoo?" She calls out, voice unsurprisingly weak. 

She takes a stumbling step forward, watching carefully for roots and other possible obstructions. 

"Nayoung?" A voice calls out in response. 

She moves more briskly through the trees to see Wonwoo standing there, holding a still-life cigarette. 

"Oh my God." He says, looking up and down at her. "You did not offer yourself up this time."

"I'm fine." She coughs. "It had to be done."

"No it didn't! It would've easily taken a sacrifice on it's own." 

"That could've been Jieqiong." 

He rolls his eyes.

"You're ridiculously stupid." He flicks his cigarette to the ground, and stomps on it.

"I do what I have to do." She coughs into her hand. 

"Here, need a tissue?" He holds out a package. 

Nayoung weakly nods, wiping her nose with it and sighing. 

"Let's go to Jieqiong. You do know she's gonna be hella mad." Wonwoo says.

"I'll live. How was the reset for you?"

"Not terrible. Just woke up here."

"I delivered the note." 

"Good. Still have any idea what it means?"

"No. But I made a promise."

They walk in silence, and then Nayoung coughs into her hand. 

It hurts when she does, and then she looks and sees blood scattered on her palm.

"Everything OK?" Wonwoo asks, concerned.

Nayoung gives him a fake smile of reassurance.

"I'm great."

Yebin wakes up remembering. 

She can remember.

That's why when she opens her phone to see the date, she feels completely confused.

It can't be 2016. It cannot. 

Her room looks different—still her school things are out, there are college pamphlets scattered around, some of her old posters are still on the wall. 

Lost, she crawls out of bed, and begins a slow walk down the stairs. She hears distant sobs from the kitchen, and finds her stomach curdling. 

She has lived through this before. 

She opens the door to the kitchen, hand trembling, bile in . 

There's her mom at the kitchen table, sobbing into her hands. 

She looks up, utterly devastated, making eye contact with Yebin. 

"Yebin... Something horrible happened last night."

"Minkyung's parents..." Yebin finds herself saying.

"How did you..." Her mother begins. "Bur yes, there was a terrible terrible accident and they..." Her body begins to shake, returning to tears, and Yebin trembles along with her mother. 

It's not entirely because of sadness. In fact, it's mostly because of fear. 

Why is she here? Why is she back here? Does Minkyung remember too? 

"I need to go sit outside." She chokes out, barely holding back tears.

Her mother just nods, pressing her head against the table. 

Yebin wanders through the house. There's the vase in the living room that the cat broke, fully formed again. There's the same, old, withered cat that would get put down at the end of Yebin's senior year. Her coat she'd thought she'd lost at school. 

She opens the door. 

Saplings in the yard Yebin only knew as trees. Her bike, still not yet beaten up from a bad ghost hunting accident. Yebin looks down at her arms and sees no scars from said accident. 

Had everything been a horrible dream? Could Minkyung remember too? Her breath quickens and morphs into sobs. Is she crazy?

Something really was wrong here. 

Yebin bites her lip.

She looks at her phone—it's past 3pm. She must've really slept in. 

There's one person she desperately needs to see right now, and if she's in the past, they live in the house across the street. Not yet evicted for being unable to pay rent due to lack of parents, not yet Kyungwon's roommate. 

She walks down the front walkway, and across the empty street, up the groomed pathway to the front porch.

Then she rings Kim Minkyung's doorbell.