Hotel del Luna

Chapter 10:Bulgae

The underground line to Seoul was filled with more ghosts than Y/N had thought there would be.

Eager to escape the strange glare of the sun, spirits of every kind crowded the platform, and as Y/N waited for her train, she watched as they went about their unusual affairs.

Some ghosts loudly made fun of the human commuters who couldn't see them, while others chose to walk back and forth along the tracks as they chatted with fellow ghosts, seeming content and yet bored at the same time.

Vaguely, Y/N wondered if she had a responsibility to invite them to the Hotel del Luna as the newly appointed Human Affairs Manager.

Nayeon had explained the previous night that ghosts who were not considered top priority spirits by Reapers often slipped through the cracks and wandered about until they were eventually escorted to the afterlife, or to the hotel if they wished to stay a little longer; but Nayeon had neglected to mention Y/N's personal role toward these roaming spirits.

She eyed the ghost nearest to her, a woman in her late thirties, and contemplated reaching out to her before the sudden arrival of her train alerted Y/N to the fact that she was already late enough as it was.

Casting one last glance at the woman, she reluctantly boarded without speaking a word.

As Y/N took a seat, her thoughts naturally gravitated from Nayeon to her dream. The green armour, her long hair — the Nayeon of her imagination was a near perfect copy of the woodblock print depiction she had doodled over in Nayeon's office.

The picture explained how Nayeon had appeared in Y/N's thoughts, but not the growing guilt she felt over witnessing such a side to Nayeon; for despite the dream being of her own invention, Y/N's presence within had somehow felt invasive, like she had been intruding on a private moment that did not belong to her.

It was a ridiculous notion, but even now, she couldn't quite shake the uncomfortable suspicion that the dream had been more than just a made-up scenario concocted by her mind.

Y/N's grip on the paper bag of warm bread in her hands tightened. "It wasn't a real dream," she said aloud, in an attempt to convince herself. "It wasn't."

"How do you know?"

Y/N jumped, looking to her right. The woman beside her was the one to have spoken, though Y/N wasn't sure how long the woman had been sitting there.

The woman looked to be in her late twenties and wore a traditional faded hanbok that matched her kind, brown eyes. Her long, brown hair swung over her shoulder as she tilted her head and smiled. "How do you know it wasn't real?"

Y/N went red. "I just— I was..."

The woman waited patiently, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement.

Y/N's voice trailed off as recognition dawned on her. She suddenly felt as if she were six-years-old again, looking up at an angel as the woman gently laid a bouquet of sunflowers in her arms with the promise that one day she would understand.

"I know you." Y/N told the woman.

The woman's smile grew wider, and the world around them seemed to fade away. It was as if they were the only two people on the train.