“Tao, catalog these scores, please and thank you.”

“Tao, have you ordered the printer ink?”

“Tao, where are you on payroll?”

“Tao, have you sent the email to the incoming students about registering for a departmental ID?”

“Tao, could you do this month’s procurement for me?  I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“Tao, you were three thousand won off on the upcoming third semester proposed budget. I need you to do it over, from scratch, just to be safe.”

“Tao, what are the numbers for enrollment this year as compared to the past three years?”

“Tao, since Baksanim Choi is out on sabbatical, I need you to arrange a new location and adjunct for his classes.”

“Tao, would you mind quickly  running down to Paris Baguette and picking up something for lunch?  I’m starving, but I’m just too busy to leave.”

Inwardly, Tao groaned at all of the opposing directions and requests, given to him by the different division heads.  He only had a certain number of hours in the day, and yet every division head and professor seemed to assume that each hour he clocked belonged to them alone.  

His phone rang.  

A number that he didn’t recognize flashed across the screen and, for a moment, he debated not answering, but he could always use the extra money from fixing someone’s car.  “Hello?”

“Hello, Huang Zitaosshi?”

“Yes.”

“This is Byeonhosa Jang, calling on behalf of the Gyeong estate.”

“Yes?” Tao said, only half listening while he typed a memo to the department heads about an upcoming meeting.

“I’m calling to inform you that you are the beneficiary of Gyeon Bonhwasshi’s will.”

“Gyeon Bonhwasshi?  I’m afraid that there has been some mistake.  I’m an orphan--I don’t have any relatives.”

“Gyeon Bonhwasshi wasn’t a relative.”

“Gyeon Bonwhasshi, Gyeon Bonhwasshi,” Tao muttered, then froze, his hands falling lifelessly to the keyboard.  “Gyeon Ssaem?”  Tao’s Korean literature teacher had been a beacon of light in an otherwise drab existence.  It was she who had first encouraged him to think about studying abroad.

“I’m afraid so.”

“I don’t understand.  How could I be her beneficiary?  We haven’t spoken since I went to college.”

“It would appear as if she too, was an orphan, and she remained unmarried until her death.”

“I’m sorry, but...Gyeon Ssaem is dead?  I can’t...I don’t...I’m sorry.”

The lawyer’s voice softened.  “I understand that this may come as a shock, but it would appear as if she drew up this will as soon as you matriculated.”

“But...how could she...she wasn’t even that old!”

“She was hit by a car,” Byeonhosa said shortly.  At Tao’s gasp, he continued awkwardly.  “Death was instantaneous.  She felt no pain.”

“Yes,” Tao said quietly, watching the computer screen’s image blur and shatter as tears filled his eyes.  “Her funeral…?”

“There was none.  She willed it so.  She has already been interred at Kkottongnae Paradise.”

“Kkottongnae?  She came back to Korea?  Wait--isn’t that place for people with disabilities from Kkottongnae Village?”

“As well as the priests and nuns who run the village, and those who provide financial sponsorship, should the institution need it.”

“Ah, yes…  So...what should I...do?”

“My secretary will correspond with you about making an appointment to come sign the paperwork.  After that, the money will be transferred to your account--tax excluded--and that’s it.”

“I see…”

“I look forward to meeting with you.  And...I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

With that, the lawyer was gone.

***

Curled in bed, Tao stared at his bankbook, still disbelieving the inflated number of his savings account.  The bequest hadn’t been much, but at over three times the account’s original amount, it was still more money than Tao had ever seen at once.  Stuffing the bankbook under his pillow, he hoped for sweet dreams of Gyeon Ssaem.  To be honest, though this money would be extremely helpful to his life, the desire of his heart was that he had known his teacher had felt such strong affection for him.  Sure, Ssaem had always supported his dreams, encouraged him, guided him--even after he left her class--but...over the cold numbers in his bank account, Tao thought as he drifted to sleep, he would have preferred, perhaps...a warm friend.

A strange, swirling sensation startled him awake, and he yelped as soon he realized what was happening.  A drought had rendered monsoon season long in coming, but it would appear as if the rains had finally arrived, and now, water was pouring into his little two-room apartment.  Fortunately (having experienced this in the past), all of his electronics were raised from the floor, but it looked as if he were awake for the day, unless he could manage to doze while curled up in his tiny raised shower stall.  

His phone rang.

Grumbling, he sloshed through the water to where it sat on the table, checking the time--six AM--before he answered.  “Hello?”

“Ah, yes, hello--Huang Zitaosshi?”

“Yes.”

“This is Lee Taehee, with Moonji Publishing, calling to congratulate you on winning the 20XX Short Story Contest!”

“Oh, my goodness!”

“We would like to see you as soon as possible to discuss the terms of your win; when are you available?”

Tao watched helplessly as Hyun casually paddled through the swirling grey water that was now up to his calves.  “I can be there by nine.”

***

Safely ensconced in one of the jjimjilbang’s warm, but most importantly dry, bunk beds, Tao searched real estate listings on his phone.  As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t continue to live at the banhija, but fortunately, he was nearing the end of his lease.  he had recently developed an ever worsening cough, and he was slowly, but definitely, losing the fight against the ever-creeping mold that bloomed on the walls, seemingly overnight, like some sort of black nightmare, regardless of how often he scrubbed them with pure bleach.  Yet, he was also loath to move to one of the high-rises as, if he were going to write, he would need to concentrate, which could be difficult if he ended up with noisy neighbours.  Scrolling almost absentmindedly, after hours of not finding anything suitable, his attention was suddenly drawn to a charming, if slightly derelict two-story house on the outskirts of Seoul, in the unfashionable district of Cheongna.  He clicked on the listing.  Just over twenty million won.  With what he had, he could purchase it outright, and have enough left over to buy a used car for the commute…  

Tao clucked his tongue in thought.  But why was it so cheap?  Nothing good in this life comes easily, and with that in mind, Tao read the listing.  Ostensibly, plumbing was sound, as was the electricity, but it would seem as if no one wanted the house due to the suburban location, and the owners were eager to sell and move back to Seoul.  Tapping his finger against his bottom lip, Tao considered.  He could always spend a little extra for a home inspector to insure that everything was up to code.  Looking up the prices for home inspections, he smiled--he could definitely swing that.  Turning onto his side into the fetal position, Tao smiled.  He wasn’t silly enough to think that, with the still relatively small sum in his savings account, he could quit his job, but living in an actually properly inhabitable house, with enough money to eat like a human being would go very far toward making him feel less hopeless.  

***

There was something terrifying about the woods behind his house. 

Ever since he moved, Tao had a terrible feeling about them--like he was constantly being watched whenever he stepped foot on the property.  When he called his home inspector for a disposition as to the viability of the home, she seemed oddly eager to rush him off of the phone, saying that she’d send him the results in an email.  Despite her odd reticence to discuss it over the phone, the report that she sent outlined a structurally sound home with perfectly adequate plumbing and electricity, though she did admit that, aesthetically, the place needed some work. Tao didn’t mind; he still had enough in his account to cover little things, like paint, wallpaper, outlets, spackle, caulk--all of the relatively superficial finishing products that might be needed to make a house look complete--and still have an adequate amount of money left over, especially once he got his banjiha’s safety deposit back.

He drove to Cheongna in his new (to him) car, listening to soft, happy music, excited about this new stage in his life.  Though he had lived alone for a number of years, he had never bothered to make the banjiha a home, reluctant to do anything that might cause him to lose his precious security deposit.  The walls remained white and sterile, with no pictures, no posters, and due to space, he only bought one of anything--one towel, one washcloth, one cup, one plate, one saucer, one bowl, one pot, one set of chopsticks...

Tao had friends--from college and the orphanage--but he never had time to see them, and had been, quite frankly, too embarrassed about his living situation to invite them to where he lived.  He was eager to rekindle old friendships, invite them to his new home, hold dinners and casual get togethers, and show them around his new, small town.  He imagined that it would all be terribly idyllic and scenic, yet somehow rustic, and when he hit the Cheongna city limits, he wasn’t disappointed.  It was a quaint suburban village, with old-fashioned looking shops, and slow-moving orashin walking carefully down gleaming beige sidewalks.  Tao was especially pleased with the little market, which boasted an open-air section, where ajumma and ajusshi hawked their fresh produce.  

His house was off the highway, but unlike the other charming, one-story reimagined hanok that sat on the road, the turn for his led to a long, winding driveway, lined with alarmingly encroaching trees.  Almost twenty seconds later there was a turn, the trees opened up, and it was then that he first glimpsed his very own home.  It was charming, though it could use a power-wash, as lichen was slowly spreading its way over the aging brick.   It wasn’t until he got out of his car that Tao felt the curious, invasive feeling of eyes on his skin.  Shivering, he ignored it.  It’s just because I’m not used to the country, he thought, I’ll get over it.

Exploring the property, he was thrilled to see a little garden behind the house that included kkaenip, baechu, mu, dallae, sangchu, maneul, and daepa.  He had been put on kitchen duty at the orphanage, and while cooking wasn’t his favourite activity, he did like to eat well, and he had years of stale samgak kimbap for which to make up. The only problem was...what was behind the garden.  The woods.  Tao didn’t even want to think about how black those woods would appear after the sun went down.  Shuddering, he looked toward the house, frowning when he saw all the windows.  At night, he would definitely close those interior shutters that he saw in the listing.

The attached garage wasn’t much better.

It didn’t help that the previous owners had boarded up the garage door to an almost comical degree, nor that the door that led from the garage to the inside of the house had several large locks on it.  

Tao chose to ignore that, however, as he explored the house, taking note of everything he would need.  There were deep gouges in the hardwood floor downstairs, but he felt that he could fill those with woodpaste, rent an edger and a pad sander, and resurface the floors himself.  There were also even deeper gouges in the walls downstairs--what kind of parties did the previous residents have, he wondered--but those would be easy enough to fix with some spackle, the edger, and a coat of new paint.  Said previous owners had left behind the majority of their furniture (thank goodness for his budget), but still he almost expected the spacious, airy rooms to echo with his socked steps.  There was a feeling of unease that settled like a blanket inside the house, with certain areas--namely downstairs, and near any windows facing the woods--feeling stronger than others. Chalking up his foreboding to being a city boy in a country setting, Tao quickly left the house, and returned to Seoul.  

Moving in wasn't difficult, but that’s mainly due to how little he already owned. For the next few weeks, Tao cleaned and prepared everything as much as possible, sanding,  repainting, staining...  It was to be expected for how cheap the house had been.  Yet, on every trip, Tao made sure that nightfall didn’t catch him in Cheongna.  For a while, he couldn’t even bring himself to sleep in the house, using the excuse that it still needed this, or that.  First, he didn’t want to smear the new floor stain.  Then, he didn’t care to sleep surrounded by new paint fumes.  Then he didn’t want to accidentally smear the new grout...in the kitchen…  Eventually however, the lease on the banjiha was up, and he was forced to stay the night. 

As the sun set, the ominous feeling that hung over the house--radiating outwards from the woods--only started to grow.  Going from window to window, Tao made sure to close and tightly latch the shutters, shaking them firmly to ensure that they were secure.  

Then he checked them again.

Dinner was quiet--omurice, and kimchi--nothing too complicated.  He had purchased an old TV, so he could begin to actually watch dramas and variety shows as they aired, instead of having to pirate them days later.  As he watched and laughed with the antics of the actors on screen, Tao found himself laughing just a little too loudly, a little too often, almost as if he were performing.  As if he were trying to convince himself--  Himself.  Only himself.  Finally, show over, and dinner done, Tao cleaned his plate, washed up, and headed to bed.  

A used mattress had come to supplement his yo, and his trusty ibul was laid flat, waiting to be downturned and slipped into, as he had every night for the past several years.  Climbing into his familiar bed seemed to alleviate some of the feeling, and for the first time all day, Tao relaxed.  He was fine.  This was fine.  He just needed to get used to being entirely alone, in such a large space, on such a large bit of completely uninhabited property.  

A small, pale sliver of light pierced his closed eyes, making him frown.  It would appear that one of the slats of his shutter was chipped just enough to allow a single ray of light from the gibbous moon.  Turning in annoyance, Tao pulled his ibul up to his neck and then...after thinking a bit...over his head.  He was just on the verge of sleep, when the sound of quiet movement filtered through his consciousness. 

To his horror, it came from the garage. 

The next day, at breakfast, when the sun had fully risen, Tao thought about going to investigate the garage.  After all, what was the point of having a place to store your car, if you couldn’t use it?  Thoughtfully holding his cup of steaming tea, he stared at the locks on the door that led from the kitchen into the garage.

He left for work.

The next night, and the next, as soon as the sun had fully set, Tao heard muffled sounds of movement from within the garage.  He valiantly ignored them.  After all, he wasn’t going to waste his time going to investigate a fox infestation.  He had more important things to do, like expand upon his short story.  The people at Moonji had liked his short story so much that they encouraged him to turn it into a full-fledged book.  On the third night, Tao could put it off no longer, having fully refinished, and moved into the house.  He sat up in bed, his back against the wall, as he typed.

“Pulling a tee and some yoga pants from a drawer, Kyunghee turned to see her husband lounging against the closet door, coolly watching her prepare to change.

“What did my mother say to you?” Baekhyun asked casually, his hands in his pockets.

Tossing him an arch smile, she reached under her dress to pull down her tights.  “You don’t need to know.”  Reaching behind she began to pull down her zipper, her shoulder popping at the awkward angle.

With a snort, he walked over.  “Turn around.”

“I can do it.”

“I didn’t ask you that,” he said, coming to stand in front of her.  “Turn around.”

With a long suffering sigh, she turned, and then stood still as Baekhyun slowly, gently brushed her hair over one shoulder, fingertips tracing lightly over the newly exposed skin as the cool air caressed the side of her neck  He took a step closer then, warm breath the top of her spine, and she steeled herself against the frisson of awareness that rippled through her body at the heat radiating off of him.  Several moments passed as she stood there, waiting, head bowed.  Unable to bear the tension, she turned your head slightly, “What are you d--”

Burning fingertips touched the back of her neck before her zipper was slowly, inexorably pulled down, the chill air quickly rushing in to make her shiver as the silk slid to the floor.  She stood still, unwilling to divorce herself from Baekhyun’s warmth, as he took a step closer, so close that if she breathed too deeply, her body would touch his.  Gathering her will, she set her jaw.  “Baekhyun…”

“Yes, baby…?”  His voice had gone husky, and Kyunghee’s breath stuttered.  “We...never finished our discussion, princess…  What can I do...to convince you, hm?”  The hot, calloused pads of his fingers lightly scorched their way down her spine, before his hand came to splay just below the small of her back, open and possessive.

Closing her eyes, Kyunghee willed herself to stay calm.  “What is it with you and feeling frisky around our parents?” she hissed in exasperation.  

Warm hands slid up her arms before Baekhyun draped himself over her back, rested his cheek against her shoulder, his lips brushing the sensitive side of her neck as he spoke.  “Want me to tell her to go?  I will…  And then we can…  Talk...”

A soft, whispery, shuffling sound drifted upward from the garage.  Tao’s mouth tightened.  Very carefully, very precisely, he closed his laptop.  He slid down in bed.  He pulled his ibul over his head.  He closed his eyes.  

He did not sleep for a long time.

That Friday at work, Tao was all smiles, and soft, husky-voiced offers of assistance. “Do you need help?”  “Would you like for me to do that for you?”  “Did you need a volunteer?”  Despite the fact that everyone always took him up on his offers, soon--too soon--the professors themselves were tired, and that meant that it was time to go home.  

“What are you still doing here?”

Tao jumped.  

“Oh!  Mae Baksanim…  I was just starting on that metrics report template that you requested for the upcoming semester.”

The little man glared down at Tao, his glasses slipping down his nose, his fashionable, if too tight, bowtie straining under the weight of his slight double-chin.  The scalp around the receding hairline that perched at the top of his egg-round head, shone in the bright white of the overhead fluorescent light.  “What are you, trying to make me look bad?  There’s no need for anyone to be here later than me.  Go home.  And don’t even think about using this as an excuse to come in late tomorrow.”  

“Yes, Baksanim,” Tao said tiredly.  

Once he reached home, Tao sat in the car for a moment, with the lights still on.  The darkness of the country night was oppressive as it surrounded the car, but fortunately for him, there was a full moon.  Reaching down, he quickly turned off the car, and headed inside.  Tao wasn’t a coward--he just didn’t want to be outside in the dark by himself, either in the car, or between car and house.  

He made a quick dinner of stir fried tomatoes and eggs over rice--the pleasure of coming home to a cooker full of warm, fluffy, fragrant rice!--washed up, and skipped television to work on his book.  Oddly enough, the tension that had been building since he moved in felt deescalated, like the relief that comes after lancing a boil, or after one’s ears pop.  Full with his simple, yet satisfying meal, Tao got to work.  

A warm wave of nutmeg-tinged vanilla wafted over Kyunghee as soon as she opened the door, and the sight that greeted her made her pause in confusion, before leaning out of the door and looking around to check whether she had just committed a little unwitting B&E.  No, this was the right apartment, so--

“Hey!”  A wide-eyed Chanyeol stared at her from where he was currently hanging mistletoe in the doorway that led from the hallway into the main living area.  Looking around, there seemed to be a suspicious amount of mistletoe hanging from almost every possible aerial location in the apartment making it look a little less Christmas, a little more dementedly amorous cottage hedge-witch.

Tipping forward, Kyunghee cautiously peeked into the room to find a rosy-cheeked Suzy precariously perched on Jongdae’s shoulders as she leaned forward to place a giant silver star triumphantly on the top of what had to be at least an eight-foot Scotch pine.

“Cookies are done!” a voice rang from the kitchen.  

Kyunghee peeked around the corner to find Junmyeon in a striped blue and white apron, pulling a tray of what smelled to be her favourite oatmeal nut cranberry cookies (in jaunty little holiday shapes no less!) out of the oven.  A blast of dry, cinnamon-scented heat hit her square in the face, and she blinked against the warm breeze from the aforementioned appliance.  

“You’re back early!”  Baekhyun skidded to a halt, looking mildly panicked as his eyes shifted around the half-decorated room, his arms full of pine boughs and red velvet ribbons...”

Ending there, feeling as if he had finally had a productive night of writing, Tao washed up, and climbed into bed.  As he settled in, he made plans for the following day, thinking about how he would go to the market to buy a little pork belly, and harvest some of the greens from his garden to make samgyeopsal.  Picking up his phone, Tao navigated to Naver to catch up on some of his favourite webtoons.  Turning on his side, he sighed in content, feeling settled for the first time in a long time.  

Then came the thuds. 

Dull thuds echoed throughout the house, the sounds coming from the garage. Each thud jostled the locks slightly. Tao froze, his phone falling from suddenly numb fingers.  He couldn’t move; he felt like a rabbit being stared down by a hungry tiger.  As the thuds continued, self control returned, and he once again quietly pulled his ibul over his head.  Foxes.  Foxes in the garage.  That was all.  It must be infested with foxes.  Gripping the ibul so tightly that his long, thin fingers turned pale, Tao forced himself to visualize the foxes in the garage.  By the morning, he had barely slept at all. 

This continued for the next night.

And the next night.

And the next.

Finally--a week and a half since his arrival--for the first time since he had moved in, Tao fell asleep to a surprisingly quiet house.  Awakening after this first full night of sleep in such a long time, he lay in bed for a long while--basking in the pleasure of feeling well rested--before going downstairs for breakfast.  

The sight that greeted him seared away any lingering feelings of relaxation.

Someone had been in his kitchen.  Things were broken.  Food was missing.  Tao’s eyes reluctantly flickered to the door that led to the garage, and his blood ran cold.  All of the locks were badly scratc