The most notoriously sleep-inducing Korean literature teacher at Haeyeon High School was lazily interpreting the final lines of a classical poem. By now, most of the students had already succumbed to sleep, and those still awake were either staring at the clock or barely keeping their heads up, eyes drooping in exhaustion.
"Now, here…"
As the teacher pointed out a passage likely to appear on the exam, a few students moved their pens, though it was debatable whether they were actually awake. Half of them were in a state where their eyes might as well have been closed.
It was an inevitable outco. Just minutes before lunchti, the air was thick with boredom and drowsiness. The teacher’s slow, droning voice blended with the ticking of the clock, lulling everyone into a stupor.
To be at their hungriest and weakest, forced to sit through the most tedious lesson of the day—it was almost cruel. Unless the bell rang, there was no chance the sleeping students would wake up.
“I suppose we’ll end here for today.”
The mont the literature teacher closed the book, even the students who had stubbornly endured were about to collapse onto their desks when—
"KYAAAH!"
"ARGH!"
A sudden, piercing scream shattered the silence. It hadn’t co from their classroom but the one next door. Even the teacher, who had been stacking up their books, jolted in shock, just like the students who had been halfway to dreamland.
“What the—?!”
“What was that sound?”
“What’s going on?”
The once-dead classroom instantly filled with anxious murmurs. Even the teacher, unable to hide their surprise, turned toward the front door. Had a bee flown into the next class? With that thought, they reached for the door handle—just as the lunch bell rang.
Bang! The door to Class 7 of the second year swung open. The very classroom where the scream had erupted. Students rushed out in a panicked stampede, clinging to the windows in the hallway, their hands clutching at their chests.
"That was insane!"
"Holy shit."
"Mom…!"
Their faces had gone completely pale, terror-stricken to the point of near tears. The literature teacher scanned the crowd before stepping toward Class 7’s front door. Other students, drawn by the commotion, also rushed to peek in through the back door.
Inside, only two students and the English teacher standing at the lectern remained. The dim lighting and the odd stillness gave the room a strangely heavy atmosphere. Out of everyone present, the only one who looked completely unfazed was the boy perched casually on the edge of a desk, flashing an awkward smile.
That one person—Mu-ryeong—squinted and glanced at Seung-joo, who was standing nearby.
“…Was that too much?”
"So, there was this one high school where sothing happened…"
Mu-ryeong had begun his story with those words, weaving together a carefully crafted urban legend, mixing bits and pieces of different tales into sothing convincingly eerie.
The key to a good ghost story was atmosphere and believable storytelling, and if there was one thing Mu-ryeong excelled at, it was setting the perfect mood for fear.
Not to ntion, he knew exactly when to throw in twists—like when soone taps your shoulder from behind, only for you to realize you were sitting in the very last row; or when you knock on a supposedly empty restroom stall, and sothing knocks back; or when you sing to yourself in an empty hallway, only for soone to start singing the lody backward.
"There was this guy who kept hearing heavy thudding noises from the apartnt above him every night. He ignored it for a day, then two, then an entire week. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he went upstairs to confront his neighbor—only to be told that the apartnt had been vacant for over a month."
His tone was calm and asured, which sohow made the story even more chilling. His naturally youthful voice didn’t weaken the fear—it amplified it.
"But the noises didn’t stop. So finally, he went to see a shaman. And you know what the shaman asked him? ‘Are you sure those sounds are coming from the apartnt above?’"
Seung-joo, who had been skeptical from the start, now had a look of pure discomfort. Despite being friends with ghost-hunting Kim Mu-ryeong, Seung-joo had absolutely no tolerance for horror stories.
"Feeling uneasy, he decided to stay over at a friend’s place just for one night."
By now, Mu-ryeong had shifted to sit on a desk, continuing his tale. Behind him, the sky was a solid gray, thick with storm clouds.
"But the mont he stepped back into his apartnt the next day, he saw it."
His voice was soft, unwavering. Without changing expression, he delivered the final line.
"The ceiling of his bedroom was covered in muddy footprints."
“…That’s insane.”
All around him, people exhaled sharply, their breaths caught in their throats. Even Seung-joo flinched, instinctively wrapping his arms around himself. It wasn’t just the air conditioning giving him chills.
"Should I keep going?"
Mu-ryeong posed the question with an innocent look. The students imdiately begged for one more. Even the horoom teacher, standing at the lectern, nodded in interest. Mu-ryeong checked the remaining class ti and smirked slightly.
"Alright, this one’s a little different. You know how they say that talking about ghosts attracts them?"
It was a common superstition—things like shaking off your shoulders after finishing a scary story, or that sudden chills ant a spirit had passed through you.
"They say that when you tell ghost stories on rainy days, spirits get curious and start playing tricks."
That part wasn’t entirely false. Seung-joo, who knew the truth of it, had gone noticeably pale.
"For example…"
Mu-ryeong took a pause. Then, tilting his head slightly, he lowered his voice.
"They might suddenly turn off the lights."
Click.
The classroom went dark.
At the sa mont, Mu-ryeong whistled softly. As small gasps broke out around the room, faint, deliberate thud, thud sounds echoed from the ceiling. Then, a whisper followed.
"…Does that sound like it’s coming from upstairs?"
The reaction was imdiate and explosive. Students scread, bolting out the door just as the lunch bell rang again, sending them into another round of panic. The commotion was so intense that even Mu-ryeong had to stifle a surprised laugh.
"I was just ssing around…"
Mu-ryeong couldn't help but feel a little taken aback. He had only ant to wrap up his story properly—since he had already started, he figured he might as well end it with a little joke. It wasn’t even a grueso tale. No one had died, and there wasn’t anything that disturbing in what he had said.
"Kim Mu-ryeong’s stories are seriously terrifying…."
"I’m sleeping with my mom tonight."
"Doesn’t he actually see ghosts?"
Even on the way to Class 3, Mu-ryeong kept hearing his classmates chatter about his ghost story. Most of them asked how he had pulled it off, but he simply answered that it was a coincidence. In the short ti since the commotion, word had already spread, and students from other classes even asked him to tell another ghost story after lunch.
"This guy is insane… If he says he’ll do sothing, he actually does it…."
Seung-joo shuddered and shot Mu-ryeong a deeply disapproving look. He knew the story had been fake, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. And yet, despite himself, he crept closer and asked in a hushed voice.
"You did that, didn’t you?"
Mu-ryeong let out a small, aningless laugh and shrugged. At a glance, it looked like he was agreeing, but Seung-joo had known him since childhood. Mu-ryeong never gave vague answers unless he was deliberately avoiding sothing.
"Hey… You did do it, right?"
"Turning off the lights was ."
Only when they reached the back door of Class 3 did Mu-ryeong give him a proper answer. He couldn’t exactly explain it, but yes, switching off the lights had been his doing. Well—technically, it had been the little goblin that loved playing pranks.
"Damn it, you should’ve just said so earlier…."
Seung-joo let out a sigh of relief and slung an arm around Mu-ryeong’s shoulder. Just then, Hwan-young, who had noticed them, got up from his seat and walked toward the back door. Seeing this, sothing clicked in Seung-joo’s mind.
"Turning off the lights was ."
“……”
…Wait a second. Turning off the lights was him?
"Then what about the footsteps…?"
He muttered the question under his breath, and Mu-ryeong gave an awkward, guilty smile. You really don’t want to know… That was the unspoken ssage behind his expression. He scratched his cheek before finally answering in a reluctant tone.
"The footsteps were real."
The slow, deliberate walking sounds had not been part of his prank. Unless so unseen person had decided to hang from the ceiling just to mimic the ghost story, there was no explanation. The only thing Mu-ryeong had actually done was set the mood.
"Don’t worry. The kids scread so loud that it probably moved on."
He offered so reassurance, but Seung-joo didn’t respond. Instead, he buried his face into Mu-ryeong’s shoulder, his entire body pale with dread.
Hwan-young, now standing beside them, frowned slightly and gestured toward Seung-joo with his chin.
"…What’s wrong with him?"
"Haha…."
Mu-ryeong gave a sheepish chuckle, patting Seung-joo’s back. Next ti, I should probably hold back a little. That was his one takeaway from the incident.
Seung-joo, however, did not let go of him all the way to the cafeteria, clinging onto Mu-ryeong like his life depended on it.
***
By the ti lunch ended, Mu-ryeong had earned a reputation for telling the most terrifying ghost story ever. Even students who only vaguely knew him by face were coming up to ask how he had done it. So even begged him to tell them another story, but Seung-joo imdiately shut that idea down with a glare.
"What the hell did you even say?"
Even Hwan-young, who had been calmly eating, finally asked the question. Mu-ryeong carefully avoided ntioning anything related to actual spirits as he explained the general situation. Then, he pointed at Seung-joo, who was still looking deathly pale.
"Seung-joo’s just a scaredy-cat."
"…Hey. I’m actually not that bad, okay?"
To be fair, he wasn’t wrong. As soone from an exorcist family, Seung-joo had more resistance to ghosts than the average person. After all, when the rest of the class had bolted, he had still stubbornly remained by Mu-ryeong’s side.
"Co on, you used to get scared all the ti when we were kids. My brother barely had to do anything to freak you out."
"That wasn’t just ! Anyone would’ve been scared!"
Back in their childhood, Mu-heun had loved sneaking up on them—suddenly appearing from behind, lifting them into the air without warning, things like that. The problem was that Mu-ryeong never reacted. It was always just Seung-joo who jumped in fright.
"Honestly, it’s unfair to compare
to you and Mu-yeon."
Seung-joo grumbled, feeling wronged, but Mu-ryeong just grinned.
Watching them banter, Hwan-young casually remarked,
"…So you two have been close since childhood, huh?"
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