Page 9 of Vicious Spirits

She upended the bottom of the bag with the last of the recycling, but a can hit the edge of the receptacle and bounced across the asphalt, rolling down the incline. Hot, sweaty, and still annoyed from her fight with Junu, she wanted to just let it go, but she’d been raised better than that and jogged after it. The can came to rest centimeters from a pair of battered loafers.

“Oh, sorry,” Somin said to the man. He had salt-and-pepper hair mostly covered by a baseball cap. His back was to her, but there was something about him that felt eerily familiar.

Why was she so intrigued by this man? He was just standing there. Perhaps it was because he stood so still, he could have been made of stone. Anyone else might turn, bend down to pick up the can for her, or at least acknowledge her, but he just stood there. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. As she approached him, she could just make out the scent of licorice.

She picked up the can, but when she stood, the man was gone. Somin could have sworn he’d been there just a second ago. Shescanned the road but saw no sign of him. She hadn’t even heard his footsteps as he’d retreated. In fact, she might have convinced herself no one had been there at all except she could swear she still smelled the faint scent of licorice.

“Strange,” she murmured to herself as she walked to the trash receptacles.

As she dropped the can into the recycling bin, a cold sensation washed over the back of Somin’s neck. So chilly, it made the hairs at her nape stand. The wilted trees by the roadside stood still. There was no breeze, but she felt the chill again, a prickle against her skin.

Then Somin saw him, not the older man but a teenager. He stood out somehow. Like he didn’t belong here. Not just in this neighborhood, but in this world.

Maybe it was because he was dressed head to toe in black with a brimmed black hat to match. He even had a matching black trench coat over his suit; he had to be roasting. But that wasn’t the strangest thing about him. She was pretty sure he was staring straight at her. Though he was a few meters away, she could see his eyes. They were as black as his clothes and unblinking as they watched her.

He was tall, and even though half of his face was shaded by the hat, he was striking. Pale skin, full lips, dark eyes.

“Can I help you?” Somin asked.

The boy finally blinked. “You can see me?”

Somin frowned. “Yeah, you’re standing right in front of me, staring like a byeontae.”

“So strange,” he said, but it seemed mostly to himself. He didn’t even care that Somin had called him a pervert.

Somin let the lid of the recycling bin fall as she fumbled inher pocket for her phone, just in case she needed to call for help.

“You slam those lids any harder, you might break something,” called the old woman who sat across the street.

She spun around, then bowed in apology. “Sorry.”

Hwang Halmeoni was a fixture in this neighborhood, a woman hovering around the century mark who still ran her medicinal wine shop across the street from Jihoon’s old apartment. She sat on the wooden deck outside of her shop, an umbrella perched to protect her from the sun and an electric fan blowing from the open doorway. Rain or shine, hot or cold, you could depend on Hwang Halmeoni to be on her perch watching the neighborhood.

Somin turned back to the boy, but he was gone. Just as suddenly as the old man. Strange. Was the heat affecting her somehow?

“Did you see that boy?” Somin asked Hwang Halmeoni, walking over to the medicinal wine store.

“Which one? That cute Junu that keeps hanging around here?” Hwang Halmeoni wiggled her brows. “He’s sure been a treat for my eyes lately.”

Somin didn’t want to talk about Junu, so instead she asked, “Should you be sitting outside in this heat?”

Hwang Halmeoni waved away Somin’s concern with the giant fan in her hand. “Inside. Outside. It’s hot no matter where I sit. At least this way I can see the goings-on in the neighborhood.”

Somin laughed and nodded.

“Moving day?” Hwang Halmeoni asked, her eyes sad as they focused on Jihoon’s apartment.

“Yeah,” Somin said. “We’re packing everything up today.”

“Mrs. Nam had been in this building for over forty years. Itwon’t be the same without her, even if I did tell her she made her kimchi jjigae too spicy.”

Somin laughed at that. Leave it to Hwang Halmeoni to be brutally honest. “I’m sad you and I won’t be able to have our talks anymore.”

“Well, you should still come visit me. One thing is for sure, I’ll never leave.”

“Why not?” Somin asked. She knew that Hwang Halmeoni had a daughter who’d moved south around Busan a while ago, but still Hwang Halmeoni had stayed.

“When I was younger, we were forced to leave our home. Not out of a desire to see the country, but out of a desire to survive.”

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