Chapter 36: Paper Warnings and Red Smiles

I couldn’t trace the voodoo doll’s origin.

It didn’t seem like it came to me on its own. Whose doing was this?

– Eek?

Could it be the clown doll’s fault?

They’re both dolls, after all.

Reading my suspicious thoughts, the clown doll shook its head vigorously.

A flicker of tension.

But school went on as usual, unfazed.

“Hey… hi, kids. I’m the new P.E. teacher. Today’s, uh… free play,” the unmotivated teacher announced.

The guys, thrilled, grabbed a soccer ball.

“Yo, split teams. I’m right side,” Pyo Jiseok called.

His friends and some boys gathered around him.

“No way we’re losing to delinquents! …Yo, Yoo Kishin! Get over here!” Kim Dodam dragged a fleeing Kishin to the left team.

The game kicked off, sand swirling as the boys ran wild.

I sat quietly, watching.

More and more guys glanced my way.

The match heated up, making it more entertaining.

“Huff… huff…” Dodam flew around while Kishin looked half-dead.

The left team scored easily to start.

“Jiseok! How’d you miss that?” a teammate yelled.

“Ugh, damn it. What’s wrong with me today?” Jiseok grumbled.

Despite expectations of a close game, Dodam’s team dominated.

Jiseok’s poor condition was the issue.

He’d been expected to match Dodam’s energy but moved sluggishly.

Tripping, he fell, and the left team scored again.

“See that, Seol Haru? Your boy’s got skills,” Dodam boasted.

“Lucky shot,” I teased.

“What? That was Ballon d’Or level!”

Ignoring his bragging, I checked on Jiseok.

His face was dark.

“Damn it…” he muttered, brushing off dirt and trudging away.

His rough day continued in science class.

During a lab, with Park Irim explaining safety protocols, Jiseok slumped over his desk.

“Jiseok, get up,” Irim called.

No response.

She sighed.

The class whispered.

“So rude.”

“Thinks he’s above it ‘cause he’s a delinquent?”

“Shh, he’ll hear you.”

Jiseok wasn’t asleep.

Clutching his forehead, he snapped, “What’d you say?”

“Huh?” a student stammered.

“Say it again. What the hell?”

Veins bulging, he scared the others into silence.

When Irim scolded him, he muttered, “Always on my case,” and stormed out.

His image took a hit.

The quiet students grew vocal.

“Why’s he so mad?”

“Such a bad temper.”

Watching it all, I glanced at Joo Kihyun.

He was covering his mouth, shoulders shaking.

“Feeling like crap,” Jiseok muttered, smoking on the rooftop.

His body felt off—heavy, headachy, breeding dark thoughts.

He’d lost a winnable soccer game and got crap in science class.

He’d just been resting because of a headache, but they didn’t get it.

“Sigh… damn it. Made a fool of myself.”

Called a delinquent, but he wasn’t one.

He didn’t harm anyone.

Well, except one guy.

Maybe two, including Kishin—he felt a bit bad about that.

Kishin reminded him of that one guy, sparking instinctive dislike, though he regretted it now.

Seol Haru came to mind.

Unlike other girls, she wasn’t scared of him and even helped him.

Feeling he’d looked pathetic in front of her soured his mood.

Why?

Because she reminded him of an old friend?

“Probably.”

His body would recover soon.

Today’s mess would fade.

He’d go back to normal—then someone interrupted.

“Tch, tch. You’re caught in something nasty,” a girl said, her ponytail tied with a talisman.

“What?” Jiseok frowned.

“Someone’s got a grudge against you.”

Ignoring her cryptic words, he walked past.

“Don’t believe in that stuff~”

He’d heard weird occult trends were popping up.

Didn’t expect a ponytail kid to be into it.

As he relieved himself in the bathroom, ignoring the gaze on his back, a chilling voice echoed.

– Red tissue or blue tissue?

Goosebumps rose.

A mistake?

No, he heard it clearly.

But it didn’t seem to come from outside.

Red tissue?

It sounded familiar—a famous ghost story.

The voice came again.

– Red tissue or blue tissue?

Definitely not a mistake.

It echoed like it came from under the toilet.

Someone’s prank, he figured.

“Yo, who’s there? Stop messing around, it’s not funny.”

No reply.

Just the same voice, repeating.

Fine, he’d play along.

“Tissue’s gotta be white, dumbass. Red tissue? Got hemorrhoids?”

– White!

The voice turned angry.

As he pulled up his pants, it repeated.

– You said white, right?

It sounded ominous, like something was about to happen, but nothing did as he left.

Just a prank.

White hands reaching from the toilet were broken, twisted, or severed.

I stretched my stiff body.

“Ugh, annoying.”

Older grudges grow stronger.

The red-or-blue tissue ghost story is famous, with many related spirits, but this one was particularly strong.

It got mad at “white tissue.”

Normally, saying “neither” or “white” lets you escape, but this one had evolved, like a resistant strain.

Swish—

The white hands faded, their murky energy absorbed into my silver hairpin.

Grabbing the door handle, I heard boys chatting.

“So, that time I…”

“If you’d just ganked mid…”

And then—

Whoosh—

“Whoa, dude, what’s with that stream?!”

…

Better wait to leave.

I chugged cold medicine from the convenience store.

Even after school, my body wasn’t improving.

“Flu or something?”

No way.

If it didn’t get better, maybe a hospital visit.

Such a hassle.

Spitting into a drain, Jiseok shoved his hands in his pockets and walked through the darkening alley.

A woman in a red mask approached, her joints creaking oddly, like she was unhinged.

As she got close, she spoke out of nowhere.

– Am I pretty?

“What?”

What’s this crazy talk?

She’s wearing a mask—how would I know?

– Am I pretty?

“Don’t know. Take off the mask.”

Caught off guard, she froze.

Annoyed, Jiseok gave the answer she wanted.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re pretty. Happy?”

She grinned, removing the mask.

Her mouth was slit ear to ear.

– Still pretty…?

“Argh!”

A real nutcase!

Jiseok bolted, not looking back even when her footsteps stopped.

Red Mask.

Say she’s pretty, and she’ll “make you pretty” by slitting your mouth.

Say she’s not, and she’ll kill you with sharp scissors.

The usual counter is to say “so-so” and run while she ponders.

I went for brutal honesty.

“You’re ugly as hell.”

Red Mask raged, slashing wildly with scissors in both hands.

“Ever look in a mirror?”

Possessing Seol Haru had raised my standards.

This slit-mouthed monster was way below the line.

How to deal with it?

Red Mask, true to its fame, was a tough grudge.

First, I beat it down.

Thud! Thwack! Bam!

It was sturdy.

Next, I snatched its mask.

It flailed to reclaim it, but I dodged, mocking, and tore it apart.

It screamed in pain.

I flipped it over and forced it to face a mirror.

– Aaaah!

It vanished, exorcised.

What, you knew you were ugly.

Stroking my hairpin, I looked where Jiseok had gone.

“Something’s got him.”

This Red Mask wasn’t local.

It felt imported, like he’d picked up something cursed.

We weren’t close, but I couldn’t ignore this.

As I pondered how to approach, he came to me.

“Blue… I mean, Seol Haru. Can you help me?”