Chapter 11: Reflections in the Marble Silence

Annoyed at our rejections, Kim Dodam dragged us to a nearby playground.

“Nothing to do, so let’s play some ball.”

“Ugh…?”

Ignoring our protests, he grabbed a basketball.

He shot, the ball grazing the hoop and bouncing off.

Dribbling again, Kim Dodam took another shot.

Yoo Kishin and I exchanged glances, shrugged, and joined in.

“Try stealing it.”

“Who says I can’t?”

“Who’s too weak to try?”

“You’re dead.”

Kim Dodam handled the ball like a pro, racking up points.

He’d always been athletic, but as a high schooler, he was a beast.

I boldly stepped up but couldn’t steal it.

The few times I got the ball, he let it slip on purpose.

‘Have your fun, jerk.’

He probably thought he was humoring his frail friend, oblivious I was letting him win.

While he babied me, he was merciless with Yoo Kishin.

“Okay, score.”

“Wow, you’re good…”

“How’s a guy so weak? Worse than Haru, a girl.”

Yoo Kishin had zero athletic skill and was no match.

He was drenched in sweat already.

But he didn’t quit or complain.

It was just killing time; he could’ve stopped anytime.

“…He’s got grit, though.”

Maybe respecting that, Kim Dodam eased up and started teaching basics.

“Like this…”

“Like this?”

“No, not like you’re smacking it. Watch me.”

“Wow… you’re amazing.”

Pure-hearted Yoo Kishin praised him, and Dodam’s lips twitched, feigning nonchalance.

“Ahem, it’s nothing special…”

‘So easy to please.’

Anyway, it was good their tension eased.

Constant hostility would’ve been awkward.

How long did we spend at the playground?

Darkness had settled.

The school at night exuded a grim vibe, the opposite of daytime.

Kim Dodam, with his mysterious childhood friend and the creepy-faced boy, stepped inside.

“So, how do we ‘investigate’?”

Yoo Kishin eagerly pulled gadgets from his bag.

“First, this EMF meter to detect unusual electromagnetic waves.”

“That finds ghosts?”

“Lots of things emit waves, so it’s not 100%. But it’s a good clue. And this thermometer.”

“Thermometer?”

“Infrared. Ghostly areas often drop below 10 degrees suddenly.”

Seol Haru muttered softly.

“Cold spot…”

Yoo Kishin pulled out a digital camera and flashlight too, but Kim Dodam was unimpressed.

‘All sorts of junk.’

Human imagination was wild.

Or rather, greed for profit.

Probably made-up stories to sell this stuff.

He just pitied the boy who fell for it.

Walking behind Yoo Kishin, Dodam matched Haru’s pace.

Her blue hair swayed with each step.

Always glossy.

A faint shampoo scent wafted.

‘Not bad…’

Ghost hunting was a waste of time, but being with her made it bearable.

Unlike his initial worry, Yoo Kishin didn’t seem to have ulterior motives either.

Why did Haru agree to this, though?

He voiced his curiosity.

“Didn’t know you were into this stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Ghosts, spooky stories. Thought you didn’t believe in them, like me.”

“Hm? Oh… I don’t. Just curious.”

Her usual aloof reply left her sincerity unclear.

Her eyes weren’t on him, scanning around.

Like she was searching.

Before he could ask, a voice interrupted.

“Temperature’s dropping.”

Yoo Kishin stared toward the bathroom.

They followed him inside.

Haru trailed casually.

“It’s the boys’ bathroom.”

“I know. No one’s here anyway.”

Just a tease, but she wasn’t fazed.

Despite her delicate look, she had a tough side.

Checking each stall, a thought hit Dodam.

‘Where’d my candy go?’

He’d stashed it in his locker after missing the chance to give it.

It vanished later.

He’d searched but found nothing.

No one could’ve stolen it—his locker was locked, undamaged.

‘Ghosts, my ass.’

They say guys and girls can’t just be friends; gifts might raise suspicions.

Holidays were the perfect excuse.

To miss that chance…

Drip—

Water dripping.

A loose faucet?

The sink was fine.

Puzzled, he looked at the mirror.

Staring at his reflection for a few seconds.

Without warning, his mirror image’s mouth tore into a wide grin…

“Argh!”

A tug on his neck snapped him back.

Soft hands on his neck and arm steadied him.

“Spacing out?”

Haru’s beautiful voice.

She stared coldly at the mirror, then lowered her gaze.

“…Sorry, must’ve imagined it.”

“Don’t stare too long.”

“Huh?”

“Mirrors are said to hold strange magic. Stare too long, you might get pulled in.”

“What’s that mean…”

“Kidding.”

She let go, turning away with a blank face.

Maybe the school’s eerie night vibe.

She felt… different.

I kept looking, but the Halloween kids were gone.

‘They followed me so much—where’d they go?’

They didn’t follow to the playground.

I expected them to swarm back at school, but not a trace.

Gone for good?

That’d be nice.

“Nothing after all.”

“Bathrooms are naturally chilly, so a temperature drop’s no surprise.”

We explored more floors.

Oddly, no janitor, so our “investigation” went uninterrupted.

It was just Yoo Kishin poking around with his weird devices.

Kim Dodam looked openly bored.

“Let’s call it a night.”

“Huh? Why?”

“It’s late. It’ll get pitch-black. Seems pointless anyway.”

“But White Day’s almost over…”

“There’ll be other chances.”

Yoo Kishin was reluctant but agreed.

‘He listens better than I thought.’

Descending, we stood at the front gate, looking back at the school.

Its nocturnal aura stirred both fear and strange curiosity.

Taking it in, we approached the gate.

“Hm?”

“What?”

“It won’t open.”

Yoo Kishin jiggled the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

“What? It opened fine when we came in.”

“It did… locked from outside?”

“Move, I’ll try.”

Kim Dodam grabbed the handle; Yoo Kishin checked the windows.

Neither budged.

“What’s going on…”

We exchanged baffled looks.

Even Yoo Kishin’s face mirrored ours.

Kim Dodam pulled out his phone.

“Ugh, why’s it not working…”

Tapping it, no response.

One word came to mind.

‘Supernatural.’

Then.

Footsteps echoed from the hall’s end.

Creak—creak—

The sound of wooden floors shifting.

Yoo Kishin stared at his meter.

“…Readings are spiking.”

The EMF meter went wild.

A tense silence gripped us.

The footsteps grew closer.

Kim Dodam, forcing bravado, grabbed the flashlight and shone it.

Then.

“The janitor…?”

A familiar figure.

The school’s patrolling janitor.

Kim Dodam exhaled, waving.

“Sir! The gate’s stuck!”

“Sorry for being here at night! Can you open it?”

“Sir? Sir!”

But the janitor, lips sealed, stared blankly.

Then, Yoo Kishin, face pale, spoke.

“Our school’s floors are marble… where’s that sound coming from?”

Kim Dodam flinched.

His flashlight hand shook.

The light caught something below the janitor.

He held a gleaming knife.

His mouth tore into a grin.

– Lots of kids, huh?

He charged toward us.