The Eight-Foot Ghost Couple

Moon Jar regarded the clock with mounting unease.

Dong— dong—.

The bell tolled two o'clock in the afternoon sharp. This was the hour when every resident of the Village in Wicheon drifted into slumber and every shop drew its shutters closed.

"There's no law against advertising right up until closing time, is there?"

And so, from the fruits of that advertising obsession, a horrifying creation slowly reared itself upright.

Squirm… slouch… wobble… wobble.

WHIRRRRR—!

At the roar of the industrial blower fan, Sohee sprang up from her seat.

"Rise and shine!"

"Doomed, this place is. Here it goes again."

The two of them turned to watch the blasphemous objects stiffening to attention in front of the motel.

A week earlier, Sohee had asked for those eight-foot-tall abominations to be rescued. She had squeaked and fussed until they were positioned just so at the front of the motel, then gazed down at the shriveled things with unmistakable pride.

"Do you have any idea how well these advertise? Now all we need is to fill them with air like so… and ta-da!"

WHIRRRRRR!

Her pathetic little ta-da was swallowed whole by the thunderous rush of the blower fan.

"……"

Moon Jar was struck speechless with disbelief. He could only stare, hollow-eyed, at the monstrosity before him.

Witnessing a pair of cloth eight-foot ghosts waving their limbs about like vengeful spirits had truly been… something. If he were to rank the moments he most wanted to ascend to the heavens, that one would land comfortably in the top five.

"Absolutely not. This is unacceptable."

"Why not? Do you see how much attention they draw…"

"They are deeply unpleasant. Distracting. If the goal is to drive people away, then it is a resounding success."

"Good or bad, the point is to make an impression! And honestly, they grow on you after a while!"

WHIRRRRRR!

One hour. That was all it took. After a brief skirmish between So Sohee and Moon Jar, it was decreed that the ghost couple would be inflated for exactly one hour per day.

Sohee had stubbornly refused the compromise of running them only while everyone napped, and it was not until she issued a half-threat—that Village residents would be so shocked that formal complaints would come flooding in—that he finally relented.

Besides, characters who entered Wicheon with a Messenger never took afternoon naps, so the advertising wasn't entirely wasted on them.

'The moment Sohee returns to her own world, those two are getting their necks snipped first thing.'

Oblivious to their future, the two balloons fluttered away, pouring their hearts into promotion.

Characters newly arrived in Wicheon faltered and backed away at the sight of the pair writhing grotesquely in the wind. The letters painted huge across their torsos—SPECIALIZING IN REGRESSION, POSSESSION & REINCARNATION and MINOR ROLES & EXTRAS WELCOME—puffed up fat and proud.

"Hmm, it's working nicely."

Moon Jar opened his mouth to ask whether Sohee's eyes had gone crooked, then swallowed the words. What would be the point? She wouldn't listen anyway.

Having confirmed everything was running smoothly, Sohee returned to her seat. With all of the Village's residents switching off like lights and falling asleep of their own accord, she alone—a human—remained unaffected, so the hour was hers to spend freely.

"All right then, time to plot out a new marketing strategy!"

Moon Jar felt his sanity begin to slip.

Precisely one hour later, the raucous drone of the blower fan died down.

When Sohee finally looked up from whatever she had been scribbling onto her notepad, everyone outside the motel was awake and bustling about again. She set down her pen and tidied her clothes to resume business.

And that was when it happened.

First came a light, sprightly set of footsteps going tap-tap-tap, followed closely by a leisurely, rough-soled tread. The corners of her mouth lifted before she could stop them.

"Sounds like they're back."

Sohee hurried out to the entrance and pulled open the glass door. There stood a young girl dressed in a maid's uniform that belonged squarely in the pages of a romance fantasy, beside a young man with curly, flame-orange hair.

"Miss Sohee! We bought new dyes and fragrances today. There were so many pretty ones! But I held firm and only bought what we actually needed."

"They all looked identical to me. Sky blue and baby blue—I genuinely could not tell them apart."

Riri, the maid, clapped a hand over her mouth and widened her eyes in mock astonishment.

"Really? Could something be wrong with your eyesight?"

"……"

"I know a good doctor—I'll introduce you. But don't worry too much. I'm sure it's nothing serious."

"…Thank you."

Kuku, the cook, standing beside her, lost the will to respond—because he knew perfectly well that Riri's concern was entirely sincere. Sohee bit back a laugh and held the entrance wide open for the two of them.

"That must be heavy—come in, come in."

Riri's basket was loaded with dyes and fragrances in every color, while Kuku's held fresh ingredients for the kitchen. They had gone to the market early this morning to snap up the best goods, and had only just returned.

"Oh, right! We have a guest!"

"Really? Then I should get started on the room right away!"

"And I'll begin preparing the meal, then."

Riri scurried off into the lobby like an excited lamb. Kuku followed after her at his own version of a busy clip. Everyone had urgent business, after all.

'Adorable.'

Sohee watched their retreating figures with a fond smile.

But they weren't just cute. Their abilities were exceptional, too.

In the earliest, most chaotic days of running the motel, when she had been hopelessly lost, hiring the two of them—then mere Village residents—as staff had been the single best decision she'd made since arriving here.

"Heh heh. A familiar room, indeed."

Dang Jaeik let out a hearty laugh before he could help himself. From his second day at the RPR Motel onward, he had been given a room prepared to mirror, down to the last detail, the place where he had lived out his life.

Both the RPR Hotel and the motel were equipped with a mechanism that could manifest any room in whatever form its guest desired.

However, since everything manifested in lifeless shades of gray, most guests tended to shy away from it. No one wished to see their cherished memories rendered in drab monochrome.

But Riri had dressed this particular room in flawless color, and so admiration escaped him unbidden.

"Why, there's even ink and stone. However did you manage all this?"

He swept a curious glance around the room once before turning to ask Sohee.

"One of our staff happens to have quite remarkable talents."

Riri, who could reproduce any color and any scent with perfect precision, had been given an account of a portion of Dang Jaeik's life, curated by Sohee herself—details of his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, the small textures of his tastes.

It was from the line—'whenever his mind grew tangled, he would grind fresh ink and paint ink-wash landscapes to soothe body and soul'—that Riri had found her answer. She had brought out an ink-scented fragrance and let it drift softly through the room.

And on top of that, she had prepared a complete scholar's station—brush, inkstone, paper, and inkstone companion pieces—all perfectly arranged in one corner.

"Goodness… even the exact shade of a sleeve hem stained by aged poison…"

But the scents were not the most impressive part. That distinction belonged to the colors—every single one conveyed to them through words alone. Not simple instructions like 'the robes are green' or 'the shoes are chestnut-brown.'

No. They were tormentingly abstract, maddeningly particular shades: 'a sky blue with a single drop of water fallen into it,' or 'a yellow through which sunlight filters like the veins of a butterfly's wing.'

Even so, Riri had driven herself ruthlessly—pushed until her face went pale—to pull them off, and then managed a smile. Now she was fast asleep in the break room, as though she'd simply fainted.

"The hospitality borders on excessive."

"To us, you are someone who deserves exactly that much, sir."

"Heh heh."

He lowered himself into his seat and ran a hand across the inkstone beside him. The texture felt much as it once had, so he even picked up the brush. At the sight of it—half-grinding ink, half water—something in his chest surged and swayed.

His wife, who had shared this room with him. His son and daughter-in-law, coming in to pay their respects. And then his grandchild, dashing in, catching a foot on the doorsill, and toppling over in a storm of wails—all of it flashed past his eyes.

A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth, then faded just as quickly.

'They must all be dead by now.'

He didn't want to believe it. And yet that was the conclusion Dang Jaeik had reached. While he sat lost in thought for a moment, Sohee spoke up.

"We're going back through the record of your life once more, searching for anything that may prove essential. But there is one thing I'd like to confirm first—the precise purpose behind your choice of Regression. The direction we take can change dramatically depending on the answer."

Sohee asked carefully.

"You declined a chance that might have made you a protagonist in your next work, and chose Regression instead. Which makes me wonder… whether I might be overlooking something very important."

"A protagonist in my next life, you say…? Could one perhaps void the oath papers?"

"…I beg your pardon?"

"A jest, only a jest."

When he laughed it off lightly, Sohee let the tension drain from her shoulders.

"My reason, you ask… Well, show me a life without regrets. If I could change just one thing among them all…"

Sohee swiftly opened her file folder and readied herself to take notes. For Dang Jaeik, actually putting his story into words proved harder than expected; he turned to gaze out the window, trying to steady the tremor in his heart.

And a moment later, it was as though he were being pulled back into the novel he had lived within.

"If I could return… then I would take the Heavenly Demon under my wing."