Ghost Writer

Prologue

EVEN BEFORE THE COVID-19 PANDEMIC, Hwangbo Chung-Cha had always hated crowds.

Crowds were noisy and intruded her personal space. People's sweaty armpits shoved next to her face, elbowing her at every slight movement. It was disgusting. And extremely irritating, considering that the Earth was pretty crowded⁠—8 billion living, and billions more dead.

Dead, you ask? Oh, did Chung-Cha forget to mention that she could see ghosts?

Well, kind of. Chung-Cha doesn't "see" them, rather she hears them. These ghosts could be identified by their wailing and crying. (Chung-Cha had become very good at tuning them out⁠—as a result, she had become very good at tuning people out too. It was a bad habit, she admitted.)

Over the years, Chung-Cha had learnt several things about these ghosts:

1. Not everyone becomes a ghost after they die⁠—thank goodness for Chung-Cha's eardrums⁠—only people with unfinished business with the living. This can mean many things, interpret it however you wish.

2. The volume of the ghosts' wailing depends on the number of ghosts near Chung-Cha. There is a radius in which Chung-Cha can hear ghosts, but she hasn't figured out the specifics yet.

3. If Chung-Cha identifies the ghost by their name, she can communicated with that ghost. The ghost can also communicate with Chung-Cha. However, they can only communicate within the radius.

4. The longer Chung-Cha stays at a place, the larger the radius becomes.

5. These ghosts are present wherever there are people.

Even in her own home, Chung-Cha was not spared of the crowd; silent screams turned into shrill shrieks as the number of ghosts around her increased (she didn't dare wonder why). Chung-Cha had gotten used to them by now, but it was still exhausting. Therefore, she frequently moved houses, hoping that she could enjoy some respite in near-empty new developments, away from people and ghosts alike. And that was how she found herself in her newest house, Seyang Forest Le Ciel Building 101.

:

God, she wished she never moved.