Chapter One – Kiss of the Haunted

(~750–900 words )

The rain had stopped, but Seoul still shimmered like a drowned city. Ji-an tightened his grip on his briefcase, shoes clicking against the wet pavement. Neon lights bled into puddles, turning the street into a broken mirror. He should have taken a taxi. He knew that. But the air tonight felt strangely alive, and something in him wanted the walk.

Foolish, he scolded himself. The later it gets, the more dangerous this city becomes.

A shadow crossed the mouth of the alley ahead. Ji-an slowed. His breath puffed out in thin clouds, though the air wasn’t cold enough for mist.

“Ji-an.”

The voice was low, familiar in a way that made no sense. He turned sharply. A man leaned against a black car, the kind that glided without a sound. Tailored suit, tie like a blade, hair damp from the rain. His presence filled the street as if the buildings bent toward him.

Ji-an’s fingers curled tighter around the handle of his case. “Do I… know you?”

A smile—thin, practiced, dangerous. “Not yet. But you will.”

For a moment, Ji-an thought there was someone behind him. Whispering. A woman’s voice, soft and broken: Don’t touch him. He spun, but the street was empty.

Seok-min watched Ji-an with quiet amusement. Up close, the younger man was even more arresting than the reports suggested—too sharp to be fragile, too delicate to be ordinary. Those eyes, wide and suspicious, reminded him of prey that still believed it had teeth.

“You shouldn’t be walking alone at night,” Seok-min murmured. His voice dropped lower, velvet lined with steel. “The streets are… haunted.”

Ji-an scoffed, though his pulse betrayed him. “Haunted? What are you, a storyteller?”

And then, for a fraction of a second, Seok-min wasn’t alone. Pale hands reached out from the shadows at his back. A face, hollow-eyed and wet with soil, pressed against his shoulder before melting into nothing. Ji-an blinked—and they were gone.

Not again.

Seok-min’s jaw tightened. The curse never slept. The ghosts always followed, whispering, clawing, warning. But tonight they weren’t whispering to him. They were whispering to Ji-an.

“You heard them, didn’t you?” Seok-min’s gaze sharpened, cutting through Ji-an’s defenses.

Ji-an’s lips parted. He wanted to deny it, to laugh it off, but the echo of that broken voice still rang in his head. He hated that this stranger seemed to already know.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ji-an said finally, forcing his voice steady.

Seok-min stepped closer. The streetlight flickered, and for an instant his shadow stretched too long, like something unhuman was wearing his skin. He leaned in, close enough that Ji-an could smell smoke and rain clinging to his suit.

“You will,” Seok-min whispered. “Soon.”

Ji-an’s heartbeat thundered. He should run. Every instinct screamed at him to turn and vanish into the night. But his legs betrayed him, rooted by something colder than fear and sharper than curiosity.

The car door clicked open. A driver he hadn’t noticed waited, face half-hidden. Seok-min extended a hand, elegant and lethal.

“Get in. The dead already know your name.”

That was when Ji-an understood. The ghosts weren’t whispering to Seok-min. They were whispering through him. And if he refused this man now, he wasn’t sure the shadows would let him leave the street alive.

His hand trembled, hovering over Seok-min’s.

What am I doing? Ji-an thought. This is insane.

But the whisper came again, crawling down his spine. Don’t touch him.

He did anyway.

[End of Chapter One]

Word count here: ~850

Chapter Two – Kiss of the Haunted

(~900 words)

The courthouse lights hummed faintly above Ji-an’s desk. Rows of case files towered around him, paper fortresses that smelled of ink, dust, and human ruin. Numbers lined the margins in his neat handwriting, every stroke controlled, every note precise.

He should have gone home hours ago, but perfection didn’t allow for sleep. Not when every mistake could cost a life.

Ji-an adjusted his glasses, leaning closer to the stack of documents. He’d always been this way—obsessed with details. It was the only way to survive in a system where merit meant less than connections. He had both brains and results, yet promotions slid past him like water. Everyone knew why.

Because I said no.

The memory of that smirk—oily, arrogant—burned at the back of his mind. Chief Prosecutor Kang. Head of the department, admired in public, rotten in private. A man who believed his power gave him the right to claim anything, anyone.

The door creaked open.

Ji-an froze.

“Still working?” Kang’s voice curled into the room like smoke. The older man strolled inside, the sound of polished shoes echoing against the marble floor. His tie was loose, jacket discarded, but the predatory gleam in his eyes was sharper than any courtroom speech.

“I have deadlines,” Ji-an answered, forcing his tone flat. Respectful. Careful.

Kang’s smile widened. “You always do. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

The footsteps grew louder until Kang loomed beside him. Ji-an tried to focus on the documents in front of him, but the man’s shadow spilled across the desk like a stain.

“You know,” Kang murmured, leaning down so close Ji-an could smell the faint trace of whiskey, “a man with your record should already be leading a team. You’re brilliant, Ji-an. Smarter than most of the fools in this building.”

Ji-an said nothing.

“And yet,” Kang continued softly, “no promotion. Strange, isn’t it?”

A chill slid down Ji-an’s spine. He gripped his pen tighter. Don’t answer. Don’t react.

Kang’s hand moved suddenly, slamming against the wall beside Ji-an’s head. The files trembled from the impact. Ji-an stiffened, trapped between the wall and that suffocating presence.

“You think you can keep rejecting me without consequence?” Kang’s voice sharpened, venom beneath the silk. “One word from me and you’ll never work again. Not here. Not anywhere in this city.”

Ji-an swallowed, jaw tight. His heart raced, but his eyes remained steady. “I came here to work. That’s all.”

Kang’s gaze darkened. “You’re wasted on paperwork.” His other hand reached down, tugging at the belt of his trousers. The sound of the buckle snapping open cracked through the silence like a gunshot.

Ji-an’s breath hitched. Every muscle screamed to shove the man away, to scream, but reason clawed at him. If I fight him, he’ll destroy me. If I yield… I’ll destroy myself.

He pressed back against the wall, fists trembling at his sides. “Don’t.” The word came out low, raw, but firm.

Kang smirked, delighted by resistance. “That’s what I like. Fire.”

The world narrowed to the space between them—Ji-an’s pounding heartbeat, Kang’s breath hot against his cheek, the cold wall biting into his spine.

And then—

A knock.

Both men froze.

“Chief Kang?” A secretary’s voice filtered through the door. “The District Director is asking for you.”

Kang’s eyes burned into Ji-an’s, a predator robbed of its meal. Slowly, with deliberate irritation, he straightened and refastened his belt. His lips curved into a smile that promised future cruelty.

“This isn’t over,” he whispered. “You can’t hide forever. Not from me. Not from anyone in this city.”

The door opened a crack, and Kang’s mask slipped back into place—charming, authoritative. “Coming,” he called out smoothly, before throwing Ji-an one last glance. A warning. A promise.

The door shut behind him, and silence crashed over the office.

Ji-an’s knees trembled, but he forced himself upright, chin high. He wouldn’t give Kang the satisfaction of breaking, even alone.

His reflection glared back at him from the dark window: pale, strained, furious.

I won’t bend. No matter what it costs.

Yet as he gathered the scattered files, his hands shook, and in the corner of his vision—just for a heartbeat—he saw it.

A pale figure, watching.

A woman’s face pressed against the glass of the window, lips moving soundlessly, eyes black and hollow.

Ji-an spun around, but the window was empty.

The whisper followed him anyway. Don’t trust him. Don’t trust anyone.

---

End Chapter Two (~905 )

hope y'all liked it and could comment to advise even troll cause that's my best kind of way to improve but just kidding sweet nothings are more thrilling 😉🥰

Chapter Three – The Price of Silence

(~950 words)

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright for midnight. Ji-an gathered the last of the files, stacking them neatly even though his fingers still trembled. His reflection stared back at him from the darkened window—stern, exhausted, furious.

“Breathe,” he muttered under his breath, voice cracking. “Just… breathe.”

The air still carried the faint trace of whiskey. Kang’s presence lingered like grease, clinging to his skin. Ji-an wanted to scrub it off, wanted to scream, but instead he straightened his tie and forced his face blank. No one could see. No one could know.

If the Chief’s threats were true—and Ji-an knew they were—then one complaint would end his career. A single whisper of rebellion and every law firm, every courthouse, every office in the city would slam its doors. Kang’s reach was long, his reputation untouchable.

And Ji-an had nowhere else to go.

The salary was modest, but steady. Enough to keep the tiny rooftop apartment in Gangseo. Enough to send money each month for his aunt’s medicine back in the countryside. Enough to keep food on the table.

Enough to make survival possible.

Losing this job meant losing everything he had clawed to protect.

A chair scraped across the polished floor. One of the interns—barely more than a boy, tie crooked, eyes half-asleep—looked up from his corner.

“Still here, Ji-an? You’re insane. Do you ever go home?”

Ji-an forced a small smile. “Someone has to make sure the numbers add up.”

The intern yawned. “They pay you too little for that.”

“They pay me enough.”

The boy shrugged and stumbled out, leaving Ji-an alone again.

“Enough,” Ji-an whispered, but the word tasted bitter. Enough to survive, never enough to live.

---

The next morning, the courthouse was alive with footsteps, voices echoing down long marble corridors. Ji-an walked through them like a ghost in his own right—sharp suit, files in hand, eyes down. He slipped past gossiping clerks, ambitious prosecutors, men who bowed to Kang with nauseating eagerness.

“Ji-an.”

The voice made him stiffen.

Kang stood at the end of the hall, every inch of him composed, smiling like a saint. To anyone watching, it was a mentor calling to his brightest student.

Ji-an’s throat tightened. Mask. Wear the mask.

“Yes, Chief?” His voice came out calm, respectful. Perfect.

Kang’s eyes glittered. “Come to my office after this case review. There are… personal matters we should discuss.”

A thousand retorts clawed at Ji-an’s throat. Not in this lifetime. Go to hell. Over my dead body.

What slipped past his lips instead was: “Understood.”

Kang’s smirk widened, satisfied.

As the older man walked away, Ji-an’s nails dug crescents into the file he held. His heart hammered against his ribs, not with fear this time, but rage.

I’ll endure. For now. But one day, you’ll choke on your own power.

---

At lunch, Ji-an sat alone in the cafeteria, pushing rice around his tray. Laughter rippled from the next table where junior prosecutors gossiped about promotions.

“Did you hear? Chief Kang favors anyone who flatters him.”

“Or anyone who shares his bed.”

“Careful. You don’t want him to hear that.”

Ji-an’s chopsticks froze mid-air.

One of them turned to him. “Hey, Ji-an, you’re sharp enough to get promoted. Why are you still an assistant?”

Ji-an forced a smile, though it felt like swallowing glass. “Guess I’m just not good at flattery.”

The table laughed. The sound rang hollow in his ears.

He excused himself quickly, tossing his untouched tray aside.

---

That night, Ji-an sat at his desk again, lamp light pooling across his papers. His phone buzzed with a message:

Aunt’s medicine is running low. Can you send more this week?

Ji-an closed his eyes, pressing the phone to his forehead. “I’ll find a way.” His voice cracked.

He looked at his reflection in the dark window once more. The ghost of a woman flickered again—just for a second. Hollow eyes, lips whispering soundless warnings.

“Why are you haunting me?” he whispered.

Silence answered.

Ji-an leaned back, exhaustion dragging him down, but his mind kept replaying Kang’s words. You’ll never work again.

The truth was simple. He couldn’t afford to fight. Not yet.

But one day, he swore, his voice trembling in the empty office, “One day, I’ll be free of you.”

---

The courthouse doors slammed shut behind him as he stepped out into the night. The streets of Seoul were alive—neon signs buzzing, cars streaming past, the city breathing in chaos and rhythm.

Ji-an pulled his coat tighter around him. He felt like an ant beneath the skyscrapers, insignificant, but determined not to be crushed.

He didn’t know yet that somewhere across the river, another man had already taken notice of him.

A man whose world was built on blood, ghosts, and shadows.

A man named Seok.

---

End Chapter Three (~960 )

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