Chapter 9: Lingering Spirits and Sugar Highs
Ghosts don’t feel fatigue.
That’s only half true.
“Ugh, I’m exhausted…”
Memories from my human past.
And the effect of mimicking a human.
Together, they create a convincing fake tiredness.
It’s especially bad after using my powers, like yesterday.
As far as I know, no other ghost disguises itself as human as perfectly as I do.
Why is that?
Blending in with humans would make causing trouble easier.
Simple.
They can’t.
Normally, mimicry is obvious or only temporary under specific conditions.
Which means…
“It takes a ton of energy.”
I’m constantly burning spiritual power.
Still, ghosts and humans are clearly distinct.
The chilly March breeze blew in front of my house.
I didn’t feel the obvious cold.
“…Wearing just that again?”
Kim Dodam, joining me for the walk to school, looked exasperated.
He wore a light puffer jacket.
“Not cold?”
“Nope. Winter uniform’s enough.”
“Why do kids wear jackets if a uniform’s fine?”
“That’s for weak guys.”
“What?!”
His pride was hurt, but he didn’t dare ditch the jacket—a pitiful mortal.
Whoosh—
A fierce wind roared, flaunting winter’s lingering grip.
Kim Dodam shivered, and I mimicked him.
“See? It’s cold. Want my jacket?”
“No thanks. Girls have more subcutaneous fat. We don’t get hypothermia easily.”
“True, but girls feel cold more because of less muscle…”
“So? I’m fine with bare legs.”
I kicked up my smooth legs under my skirt.
A mystery from my past life.
How do schoolgirls go bare-legged in winter?
Showing off, I noticed him turn away.
“What’s up?”
“…Ahem. Nothing.”
His face was red.
He’s usually fine, but sometimes he’s like this.
“?”
Weird, but I didn’t care about guy secrets.
Students streamed through the school gate.
In the courtyard, I spotted a familiar girl.
“Lee Hwaseo.”
“Who’s that with her?”
She was with a red-haired boy, their vibes contrasting.
Hwaseo tried to look bright, but he was stone-cold.
“Friend?”
“Maybe? Feels off, though.”
“Probably nothing.”
“Yeah, the class president’s nice.”
I knew who he was.
Couldn’t let on, though.
Ignoring Hwaseo’s outstretched hand, the boy passed by, and we reached the classroom.
“Know what today is?”
Kim Dodam asked as we sat.
“Today?”
“…Figures you don’t. So you.”
“Dunno. What is it?”
“Think. We just started school.”
A sudden quiz.
Hand to my lips, I pondered.
“No clue. School anniversary?”
“We’re at school, aren’t we?”
“Give me a hint.”
“Hm… when do we usually start school?”
“March?”
Is this a game of twenty questions?
He was about to reveal the answer with a wry look.
“Uh, H-Haru…”
I didn’t notice him until he was right in front.
A messy-haired boy, eyes shut tight, held something out.
“T-Take this!”
“…What’s this?”
“Candy. It’s, uh… White Day.”
“Oh.”
Now I got it.
But why was he giving me candy?
“Why me?”
“Uh… just a thank you! You helped me before.”
“Did I…? When?”
“You picked up my eraser…”
I didn’t remember.
Was that even help?
‘Don’t know his name. Is he in our class?’
It was a thank-you, so I couldn’t refuse.
Eyes were gathering.
Taking it, he flashed a shy smile and left.
As he reached the back door, he bumped into a big guy.
“Ugh, damn it! Watch it, Joo Kihyun!”
“S-Sorry, Jiseok…”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it! You blind? Forgot what I told you?”
Pyo Jiseok, arm around Joo Kihyun, dragged him into the hallway.
Kim Dodam and I exchanged looks.
“Poor guy.”
“Pyo Jiseok’s consistent. Not embarrassed playing boss as a high schooler?”
“High schoolers are young.”
“You’re one too?”
Turning his head, Kim Dodam muttered, annoyed.
“What was that guy? You close? He called you by name.”
“Not close. Just learned his name.”
“Weird dude.”
He seemed irked.
I tried to pick up our earlier talk.
“So why’d you ask about today—”
“Haru~”
A mob of students with candy swarmed.
They tossed compliments and handed me candies.
“Thanks for the math help~”
“No big deal.”
“Haru, lots of kids want to talk to you. Hang out sometime.”
“Uh… if I’ve got time.”
I forgot.
Kids this age take holidays seriously.
The storm of students passed, and the classroom turned into a candy-trading frenzy.
The pile on my desk dwarfed Kim Dodam’s.
“Told you to be nicer.”
“We’re not that different! Damn looks-obsessed world…”
I didn’t expect this much either.
Just did vice president duties and answered questions when asked.
Maybe I’ve got hidden popular kid vibes.
Unlike middle school, is a vibrant school life waiting?
‘…I’m a ghost, though.’
“Hm. Anyway, Haru, uh, here…”
As Kim Dodam reached for something, another person approached.
“Seol Haru. Take it.”
I flinched.
Yoo Kishin, with his trademark creepy face.
“Thanks.”
“Yep.”
A curt nod, and he was gone.
Super cool.
‘He’s into this stuff too?’
Didn’t seem the type—surprising.
Maybe a nod to our ghost-hunting adventure.
His candy was a long stick, creepily decorated.
[White Day: Tragedy of the Ghost School]
Blood-red with a ghost face—very him.
“Giving that to a girl? Is he sane?”
“…”
I agreed with my childhood friend on that one.
“White Day started in Japan…”
“There’s tons of White Day ghost stories.”
Students’ chatter.
Some words I hadn’t heard before mixed in.
“A guy came to school on White Day to give a girl candy and got trapped.”
“Pfft, that’s fake. So poorly made up.”
“There’s one about a possessed janitor chasing with a club.”
The headless ghost fiasco left an impression.
Seems it sparked more interest in ghost stories.
‘Not sure if that’s good.’
Elsewhere, other noises rose.
“My candy!”
“Where’d it go? I was gonna give it at lunch…”
“Ugh, stolen? Nah, who’d steal candy?”
Students rummaged around.
Everyone knows White Day’s commercial, but it always works.
With so much candy going around, losing some wasn’t rare.
‘Feels like a lot, though…’
Glancing at the lockers, I saw Kim Dodam staring into his.
He seemed to be searching.
As I approached, the front door swung open, and Lee Hwaseo entered.
“Class president?”
“What’s wrong? Something up?”
Her face was dark, anxious.
To her friends’ concern, she forced a smile.
“No… it’s nothing.”
Others might let it go, but I couldn’t.
Her glance darted outside.
Something appeared?
Tensing slightly, I slipped into the hallway.
Right in front of me—
“…”
Ghosts, witches, monsters.
Or rather, kids dressed as them, swarming.
Holding woven baskets or red jack-o’-lanterns with candles, they stared at passing students.
One spotted me, and the others’ eyes followed.
They rushed over, thrusting baskets and shouting.
– Trick or Treat!!
Clutching my dizzy forehead, I mentally groaned.
‘…You guys got the date wrong.’