There's a knock on my door. Has the girl arrived? But I just called her like, fifteen minutes ago. I didn't asked which school she goes to, but I'm pretty sure there aren't schools nearby. It's a rundown neighborhood, after all. There is a kindergarten ran by an old woman, my next-door neighbor. But it's a bit far and last time I checked, the girl is in high school.

I set down the cloth I used to clean my daggers and head to the door. She knocks again before I get there. “Yes, yes, wait up,” I shout, sounding like a dying cat. I look even more like a dying cat in my trunks and thin white tee, both sleeves pushed up to my shoulder. It's particularly hot today. Plus, I've wrestled at least five Damneds by noon. I had no energy left then, not even to stop by the chicken house. I went straight home, stripped off my jacket and jeans, changed into more comfortable ones, and collapsed, drifting to dreamland. An awaiting job woke me up with a phone call. That was when I called Sora. Good thing they're going to deal with Weepers. She might be a bit of a help, since I'm in no condition to fight anything. Could give her a bit of experience too.

I open the door and find Sora in a pair of denim jeans and loose, black tee. It seems like she gets the whole sparkling look is a no. But it only applies to clothing, apparently. She's looking up at me with annoyingly bright smile, showing the whole set of her white teeth. Who on earth comes back from school with that kind of smile? Not that I'd know, I never go to one; but I'm pretty positive studying doesn't give that kind of happy effect.

“Hi!” she almost shoutes.

“Are you sure you’re from school?” I ask as she runs inside, as if it is her home. I close the door.

“What? Of course!” She points at her backpack. “I just went home a bit earlier than the others. No one would notice.”

“What, the teachers don’t notice it when their student ditch?”

Sora has settled on my bed. I highly disapprove how she just plops there without my permission, but even if I point it out, she'll just have a smart retort back at me. I'm not in mood for arguments. I go by the desk to clean the daggers again.

“So, what now?” she asks. “Another Damneds or …”

I flinch just at the mention of the name. I shake my head. “No, no, no, no, don’t even call their name. It brings me headache.” I've had enough of Damneds for the day.If that place has even one Damned, I'm really going to call off the job and go home. The elder Hunters won't know it anyway.

Thinking back at it, why are there so many Damneds around? They used to be rare. Now it's like they're having festival up here on Earth.

“When are you going to tell me about the others?” Sora asks.

“Other, what?”

“Other kinds. I know not all of them are ugly and not all of them are laughing maniacs.”

I give it a thought. Sora is my partner now. The thought of it isn't as sickening as it was the previous night. It's actually pretty cool to have someone to share about this whole dead hunt. I can even brag about my previous achievements (because let's face it, yesterday is no bragging material). I can vent when it gets too exhausting and she'll have no choice but to listen and understand, since she insisted to be stuck with me. As much as I'd hate to admit, I'm pretty glad I'm not alone in this anymore.

I shouldn’t be glad. Hunters work alone. Hunters aren't even that close to their relatives--from experience and stories. We barely speak to each other at family meeting. The elders mostly talk about the good ol' days and which son should marry which daughter. Yeah, much to my distaste, most Hunters are betrothed with another kid form another Hunter family, They'll marry when they're thirty-something. And they have to marry, because how else would the Hunter blood continue?

I try to block the thought that my father is using all this time not talking to me to find my bride. It gives me shudders, just imagining it.

“The client’s in Changjeon-dong. We’ll stop at a café and discuss about it. I need my tea,” I say, disappearing into the bathroom with a set of black clothes.

Thirty minutes later, we arrive at the café. It isn't far from the client’s house. On our way here, I briefed Sora about our client: Jang Eunhye, a widow, and her two kids; they've been hearing cries all over their new house; it is most frequently heard in her kids’ room.

“They’re called Weepers,” I say. Our orders has just arrived. As usual, I ordered a cup of earl grey tea while she orders hot chocolate. I learn that she isn't keen on teas, not sure what the reason is. My hungry belly forces me to also order chocolate croissant.

“Weepers?”

“Yep, they weep all day, all night, whenever they feel like it. Their emotion is unpredictable. One second they sob, and the next they hyperventilate. But they always cry.”

Sora nods. She stirs the hot chocolate and asks, “What about the others? Jokesters, Damneds, Weepers; are there anything else?”

I nod as I take the croissant and savor it. Nevermind the other customers looking at me like I'm a pig; I'm starving. “Of course,” I say, my mouth full. “There are the Quiet Ones and Inmates. They’re calmer than the others. Sometimes I don’t have to bother sending them back. They’ll cross over when the time comes.”

Instead of absorbing the information, Sora tries to conceal a laugh. “What?” I ask, annoyed already. If she isn't going to take this seriously, I'd have to scold her. Hunting isn't a joke.

“Your, your …” she breaks into giggle fit, pointing at me.

“What?” I press.

“You … you have …”

“I have what?”

“Chocolate … on … teeth …” she is breathless as she says it, clutching her stomach.

With a frown, I take my phone from out and slide across the screen, opening the camera. I switch it to front camera to see my reflection. I 'ee'd. There, on my front tooth is a smear of chocolate.

I look up and scowl at Sora. It's either she has very low sense of humor or whatever. It's not even funny.

“It’s not funny,” I scold her. I sweep my tongue over the chocolate, then I take a final sip on my tea, wipe my mouth, and stand up. “Let’s go.”

“I haven’t finished my hot chocolate!”

“Do something about it!” I head for the café door. The edge of my lips tug up. No one has ever make fun of me. Not my family (gods no), not my clients, no one. I was embarrassed, yes, but at the same time, it feels kind of nice. Maybe it's yet another good thing about the whole partner thing.

Not long after I get it the car, the passenger door fly open. Sora slides into the car with a plastic glass on her hand and a pout on her face. “I hate you,” she declares.

I scoff. “I’m glad the feeling’s mutual."

“No, you don’t hate me.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re not kicking me out. No, you don’t hate me.”

Smarty-pants. “Just because you’ll cry.”

“I won’t cry!” she cries out. “Well, maybe I will if you drop me off here where I can’t go home … still, you have to admit you don’t hate me.”

Maybe I dont. But I say nothing of it.

“There are cries, like every nights! I can’t stand it. My children can’t sleep. They have dark circles under their eyes. I can’t … I just can’t …” and Jung Eunhye cries. She buries her face into her hands. Her kids—a young girl and guy about eleven years old with the same black hair her mother has—pat her back.

Sure enough, they all look like they haven't gotten a good sleep for ages. The skin under their eyes sags, its colors fading.

“I guess me and ah, my partner should take a look around,” I say. I'm not good with crying things, except crying ghost, maybe. It's better to leave Jung Eunhye alone. I glance at my partner. She's looking at Jung Eunhye with her brows furrowed together, her hand sits on the woman’s knee. I clear my throat to get her attention.

“Huh?” she turns to look at me.

“I said we should take a look around.”

She pulls her hand away from the woman. “Ah, yes. We’ll get back shortly,” she promises the Jungs, then she trails behind me.

We check from the first room in the two-story house. It's the guest room. Not many things are in the room, not even a trace of ghost. We move on to the next room, then to the bathrooms, and the other rooms. The first floor is clear—not ghosts around.

We head for the second floor, where the master bedroom and the kids’ bedroom are.

Jung Eunhye's room is pretty much empty, like the guest room. The same doesn't apply to the kids’ room, though. Sitting on top of the bunk bed is a woman in white, looking around her early 30s. Her black hair hangs slightly below her waist, wavy and tangled in some parts. She has her face buried in her arms, just like my client.

I stop by the door, shielding Sora out of the door. “I got this,” I say. But the girl refuses to listen and shoves my hand away. “What?” I hiss.

“We’re partners, there’s no ‘I got this’ when we work together.” She mimicks the way I talk in low tone, which sound nothing like me. She strides in. “Hey, you,” she calls out.

I pull back my head, facing upward in frustration. Sure, greet the ghost with a ‘hey, you’. Brilliant. “Get back here before she—”

The woman looks up from her hands. Her eyes read from the infinite amount of tears that has fallen. Strands of hair stuck on her face. Her breath hitches when she sees Sora, who is standing before the bed.

“Are you okay?”

I figure I have to rush in before Sora starts a heart-to-heart conversation with a Weeper. Not only I'm not sure if the ghost talked (usually ghosts just growl at me), I also want to go home as fast as I can and sleep.

I stop on my track when the woman opens .

“I miss my baby,” says the Weeper, sobbing.

“It’s okay, you can come down and talk to me.” Sora pats the spot beside her, on the lower bunk.

The woman instantly vanishes and reappeares beside Sora.

“I really don’t recommend you having a close proximity with a ghost, Oh Sora,” I warn, inching closer to them. “I mean, you know what they can do, right?” I'm not sure a Weeper could do anything other than crying, I'm not going to admit that when she's trying to be Dr. Phill all of the sudden.

The girl snaps her head at me. “Can’t you see she’s crying?” she says in a hushed yell. Her hand lands on the back of the ghost, to pat the ghost, perhaps. But it goes through the body.

“She’s not a Damned. She’s, what, somewhat gas-y,” I explain. Alright, I'm through with this. I hold up my hands. “Whatever you want to do, make it quick,” I say. I get out of the room and look around the house. Just in case there are some other ghost in hiding.

I come back to the room about fifteen minutes later. It looks like the Weeper and my partner has become best buddies. They might as well carve their names on a tree house. They both look at me when I entered. “Done?” I ask.

Sora gets up and walks toward me, not forgetting to give a smile to the ghost before doing so. “We should bring the kids here,” she says.

What? Did she just suggest like, the most absurd idea ever? “Are you mental?” I put a hand on her forehead. “Your temperature’s fine.” I scan her body from head to toe. “No signs of ghost-y mind control or whatsoever. Soul’s still intact.” I turn to look at the Weeper. “What did you do to her? I figure she might’ve been crazy all along but this is just absurd.”

The ghost shakes her head, still whimpering.

A hand lands on my cheek, forcing me to turn my attention back to the certain girl in front of me. “I mean it. She misses her children. Her family died in a car crash. She couldn’t find them when she, uh … waited to cross over. The Jungs remind her of them. Maybe, just maybe, if we let her connect with them, she’ll move on.” At my lack of response, she asks, “Won’t you say anything?”

“Alright,” I say. “You get the kids up here. You make the thing go away. I’ll see how this diplomatic e goes.” I wave my hand dismissively. “Shoo, shoo.”

Sora rushes out of the room, but not before giving me a ‘you’ll see’ squint. By all means, I'm left with the Weeper.

“Are … are you a Hunter?” a small voice asks from behind. I turn around with my hands on my back. It doesn't surprise me that the ghost knew that I'm a Hunter. I'm pretty popular among Seoul ghosts.

“The very one in Seoul,” I say, my chin up in proud.

“You must be very lonely.”

I scoff. “Who says you can just speak to me? I’m not here to chat. In fact, as soon as that girl’s back, I’m going to send you back to Death. She’s just delaying your departure.”

“I will go on my own will, Hunter.”

“Are you forgetting that you’re a Weeper? You Weepers don’t do that.”

“We would if you’d just listen.”

An invisible force chokes me, makes me want to cough. I give a look at the ghost. “I’m a Hunter. My kind and your kind don’t exactly get along. Let alone having a nice cup of tea as you tell us your heartbreaking story.”

Just in time, the door opens. Sora stands in front of the Jungs. Her face full of determination, whilst Jung Eunhye doesn't seem so pleased with the idea.

Well, that makes two of us.

Sora points at the ghost. “Meet Hyunjoo!" she announces, then turns to me "Can they see her?”

“I guess she’d have materialized herself if she wants to bond with the kids,” I answer. I still think this is a bad idea. There's this unspoken rule (and really, it's basic manner) to never let the client make any contact with the ghost. I let it go, since it would be a hypocrite move if I start talking about rules. Lord knows how many I've broken.

Sora ushers the kids to go inside. “It’s okay. She’s nice. She had … uh, has kids just like the two of you. She won’t hurt you.”

At first, the kids hesitates, but as Hyunjoo smiles warmly at them, they begin to inch closer.

“It’s okay,” said the Weeper, as another tear falls down her cheek. It sure isn't tear of despair. With her arms wide open, she gathers the kids into one big hug. While doing so, her tears flows harder.

One of the Jung kid turned to me. “Is she okay?”

I shrug. “She’s crying. People who cry tend to be not okay,” I say, despite being sure that the Weeper is better than just ‘okay’. Her smile and the lack of shaking sort of gives it away. She would be the first Weeper I'd ever met who cries out of happiness.

Jung Eunhye walks toward them.

The Weeper let the kids go. She wipes the tears from her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I just … I lost my kids. I … I keep imagining that I’d never meet them. Not even after I cross over. I’m so sorry … for bothering you … for …” and she starts to hiccup.

Ever heard of ghost hiccupping? Neither have I.

“I’m going now, thank you.” The Weeper turns to Sora, who—without me noticing—is standing beside me. “Thank you,” said the Weeper. She waves to all of them, even me. Then she starts to fade—fader than she already is—until there is nothing left but faint smoke.

Well, that makes this day the most anticlimatic day. I've gone through hell with the Damneds all day long. I thought I'm going to be shish kebab by the end of this case. Whatever. I know I still won't have heart to heart conversation with anyone. I'll have my 'partner' to do this kind of thing if we ever come across Weepers again.

Goodness I can believe I'm thinking like we're going to go on tons of adventures.

A whisper I'd very much not like to hear breaks my thoughts, “I see my diplomatic works just well.”

Author's Note:

Hello, how are you guys doing? Do you like the story so far? I think this gif describes Kai pretty well:

Don't forget to tell me who's gonna be a better Death! D.O. or Baekhyun?