Mum? –

Yoon had woken up that morning to the sound of plates smashing on the floor.
He frowned and wrinkled the round nose that his parents often fondly touched. Something was wrong. Probably the heating, because he was freezing to death.

The little 6 years old boy got out of bed with a precise jump… or at least that was what he intended to, but when his little feet came to rest on a cold and slippery surface that he did not expect to find, he slipped and fell, sitting loudly on the floor. His unexpected and loud fall ended up causing him to bang his head against the nightstand. A wince of pain was painted on his childish face for a few seconds, while he held back from crying.

The cold in his hands, added to the humidity that penetrated his socks and pajama bottoms, quickly got him distracted from his pain. Confused, he saw that the entire surface was covered in a thin layer of ice.

He didn't quite remember what the name of that phenomenon was. His mother used to talk about it, because it used to ruin her flowers before the sunrise.

His little fingers ran over the slippery surface as he tried to understand. Never in his short years, no matter how cold the day was, had he seen that happen inside the house.

Only on the outside.

Was it normal?
That scene froze for an instant.
The boy was no longer that age, he was now a man over 20 years old.

And he was clearly pissed off.

He clenched his fists in the frost on the ground, indifferent to the cold.

Stop getting into my memories - he said, raising his voice.

– You're a very boring guy, you know? - A voice that came out of the closet answered him, while one of its doors opened slowly.

Yoon stood firm in his place, staring at that piece of furniture, until the light from the child lamp next to him exploded.

– Aren't you scared…? - A voice whispered in his ear, in absolute darkness.

No - he firmly answered.

And the scene dissipated, allowing the young medium to return to his reality: the hallway, the smell of death, the blinking lights, and the man in front of him.

He was broadly smiling at him, silently, showing his teeth in a constant, exaggerated grin. His teeth looked disturbingly sharper than they would on a human.

Is that how you greet your father? - The man said, without diminishing one bit of his disturbing gesture.

The young man made a face that was intended to be a smile, but was laden with distaste.

I don't have a father anymore. Nor mother. - he sentenced with a neutral voice, as if he was talking about something as banal as the weather - if I remember correctly, it was you who took care of that.- he added.

And, once again, you're being boring… - The guy in question cracked his neck, making unpleasant sounds and abnormally contorting those muscles. His smile disappeared completely from one moment to the other, his eyes were absolutely black from end to end - You take away all the effort I have put into dusting off this body for you.

-Well, it's not my problem. I haven't asked that of you,- the medium replied indifferently.

His hands were comfortable in his pockets once again, and he was haughtily grinning at him.
Although it was a façade.
In fact, his hand was squeezing the vial of holy water tightly, and his mark burned so hard that not bending over in pain required great effort.

The smell stung his nose and made him dizzy.

But he would show no weakness in the face of that demon that had screwed up his entire existence. Not after all the time, that he had been expecting this encounter.

-You bore me, - the demon repeated, still using his father's body.

-You are the one who has become bored over the years… - Min looked around, as if observing the place where they were for the first time - A hospital? It is not typical of a great "Vetala". I was hoping to meet you somewhere else… how to put it?… Somewhere more epic…

His knuckles were white from the force he exerted on the glass container.

Can't a demon vary from time to time? - It seemed that the demon was not aware of his condition. He hoped so.
The silver-haired man shrugged, feigning a calm that he didn't really feel.

If I knew that you would be in such an ordinary place, I would not have bothered to gather contacts in the higher strata.. You know? I was hoping to get a job in some old sacred cemetery, or something similar, to find you… - and there was truth in his words, he had tried hard. He hoped that sincerity would prevent the demon from discovering his ailment.
The laugh that was being let out was that of a madman. As he laughed, his body seemed to be mutating and deforming, as if sculpted from clay.
His arms grew longer, his height varied considerably a few inches, his skin stretched until there were no wrinkles. The features of his face moved like clay, molded into a completely new and younger face.

-Was the great Min Yoongi looking for me? - The now young man asked sarcastically, who now kept only his eyes absolutely dark, compared with his previous form. - And for what?

To kill you, - he said, with determination.
The smell of putrefaction was decomposing him, he did not want to extend that absurd talk any longer.

I'm afraid you couldn't even try.

In that case, I'll try and die trying.

Do you have any idea how stupid you sound?… - The demon seemed to be talkative that day; Yoon cursed inside - You never received even the slightest Guide, Min Yoongi. Not only are you boring, but you are also suicidal. Fair enough… Let's see who gets out of this shitty hospital alive…- said the médium, ready to attack.

Hoseok's nose was sore and dripping from the cold. He had been totally out of the game for several minutes, stunned by the… accusation?… that this Min Yoongi had made.

He didn't believe him one bit, of course, for ghosts didn't exist for him. To Hoseok, the ghosts were only the guilt and the shadows of the living projected, the despair of the unconscious making a dent in those who live it. But the words hit him, anyway. Everything related to that woman continued to hurt; it opened a wound that never healed.

When she died, a part of him died too. He knew it, and he had learned to live with it. With a somewhat volatile temper as a consequence, he had to admit, but he considered that he had handled it quite well.

It had been a lot to process at a young age, and sometimes his mind played against him. But he did not get carried away by that, he did not believe in the paranormal, he controlled himself and was aware that they were tricks of his own head. As it had been happening since he returned to that damn city which stressed him out.

The initial surprise quickly morphed into anger, as it often did. That damn guy had investigated him and used that information against him. He couldn't allow it. How dare he even mention her?

The frost numbed his face, so when he frowned to follow in the Medium's footsteps, his every faction hurt. He ignored his discomfort, even the heaviness his limbs felt, and attributed it to the weather. The wind howled loudly, and maybe that's why he didn't hear the constant whisper that asked him not to continue… or maybe he thought he heard something, but he let it pass.
He was sick of Seoul. He was sick of paranormal fiascos. He wanted to return to EEUU as soon as possible, where he felt the calm return to his body.

The closer he got to his father's establishment, the more his own memories clouded him. He shook his head anxiously, as he quickened his steps. He could almost hear his mother's screams haunting him in his dreams. Every step reminded him of the hallway in his old house, the entrance overlapping with the white wooden door of the marriage room. His shoulder felt a tingling that sting where years ago his father had shaken it hard, preventing him from entering.

"I need to get out of Seoul…" he sighed, massaging his shoulder with his hand, in an attempt to lessen his strange discomfort, without slowing down his steps. "What the fuck is wrong with me…?"

If he had not been in the middle of such an intense internal struggle, perhaps the young man would have noticed that the lights of the lanterns around him began to fail, and even the shadow itself stretched and moved out of time with his movements. Although… if he had seen it, most likely he would have attributed it to the visual effect of the blinking lights.

There is no worse blind man than the one who does not want to see.