It was already past midnight when I finally said goodbye to my co-workers and left Grandma's Kimchi Restaurant. The owner was a 74 year-old woman whom we all had taken the habit of calling her Grandma. And the place had been my source of steady income for the past 8 months since I'd started on my fifth semester of college. I left my previous job, which was also a waitress position at Kim's Stew and Bar, also located in the same neighbourhood. The boss, a 41 year-old divorcee, had this nasty habit in which I found out rather quickly on my first day of work that he liked to "feel out" the young female workers.

I left. And gave him a black eye as my parting gift after he had ungloriously smacked my with his palm. He had threatened to report my supposedly violent act, but I reminded him of the security cameras set up around the premise and told him to please report it before I do. That, or I could show him my skills in Jujitsu.

He shut up.

But thankfully, Grandma Zhou was willing to take me in under a short notice and a very, very short walk-in interview. Perhaps it was the puppy eyes I gave her that worked, or it was out of her kindness, I was grateful either way. Rent in Seoul wasn't really what you'd call cheap or affordable but I had to rake something up while also completing my studies. My parents lived in the suburbs of Gwangju province, further south of the country. My only sibling, also younger brother, lived with them. 

Yeah, I lived a rather mundane life.

A big fat lie that I always told people.

As soon as I stepped out of the premise, wisps of white flickered from the corner of my vision. I sighed, and as I'd always done, I ignored them and continued walking while plunging my earphones to block out the world, or rather, them.

"Hey, could you help me?"

An echo of a man's voice grabbed my attention amidst the music that I cranked up. Impulsively, I turned around. .

It was a man, alright. Or what was left of him after he had died, anyways. It was a remnant of him, a soul. He was standing, more like floating, in front of me with his form flickering between white and grey, like a soft smoke when you're burning something. His sad eyes locked with mine, and his eyes widened as if he was caught surprise that I could hear him and see him.

"You- can see me. . ."

, I cursed myself for the bazillionth time and started to turn around and run. Once they knew I could see them, they wouldn't leave me alone. When I was a kid, I tried helping them, I tried talking to them. But the more I gave notice to t