Goo Young-jin was curious about the afterlife.
They say there’s nothing after death.
But the afterlife he experienced was nothing like that.
Goo Young-jin opened his eyes again.
What unfolded before him wasn’t heaven.
It wasn’t hell either.
Nor was it pitch-black darkness.
And it wasn’t some far-off fourth-dimensional realm.
The afterlife that spread before his eyes was…
Seocho-dong, Seocho-gu, Seoul Special City.
When people die, they go to Seocho-dong.
Goo Young-jin found himself dazed, eyes wide open, under the building in Seocho-dong from which he had fallen to his death.
True to the bustling nature of Gangnam, there were many people passing by.
Out of the countless people walking by, not a single one paid attention to him.
“Hey.”
“Excuse me.”
“Hey! Hey!”
Goo Young-jin raised his voice, trying to grab the attention of the passersby.
But no one responded to his calls.
That’s when he realized.
Ah, so I’m a ghost.
Living people can’t see me or hear me.
Then, how long will I be stuck like this?
If this is the afterlife, wouldn’t it have been better to simply drift into nothingness, like falling asleep?
Goo Young-jin decided to try leaving Seocho-dong.
But he couldn’t move a single step.
It was as if he was stuck in a swamp, completely immobile.
So, am I doomed to sit here, staring blankly with open eyes, unable to move an inch?
If so, isn’t this essentially hell?
“Damn it…”
For a while, Goo Young-jin despaired.
But no matter how long he sat crouched with his head hung low, nothing changed.
He was simply bound to the asphalt of Seocho-dong.
Not even his physical body—just his soul, tied to this place.
Is this what they call an earthbound spirit?
“Can’t someone see me? Can’t someone hear my voice? Please, anyone!”
He had thought that death wouldn’t matter, but now, faced with this reality, fear crept in.
Goo Young-jin twisted his incorporeal form, crying out in anguish.
Yet nothing changed.
Left with no choice, he sat there in a daze.
Watching the people passing by.
Observing the signs of the shops.
With nothing else to do, Goo Young-jin’s observations became meticulously detailed.
He observed whether the pattern on a woman’s dress resembled pineapples or crescent moons.
He examined whether a man’s shoes were made of cow hide or alligator leather.
Pathetic, but what else could he do?
This pointless activity was all he had.
Then there were the shop signs:
Seocho Billiards Hall.
Jeongdeun Garden Korean Beef Restaurant.
Jeongyul Law Firm.
McDonald’s.
Hyundai Motors.
Choheung Bank.
“Choheung Bank…?”
Wait, Choheung Bank?
Gu Youngjin stared blankly at the sign for Choheung Bank.
That bank had been in decline since the IMF crisis.
By 2008, the year he took his own life, it was already a thing of the past.
But here it was—Choheung Bank.
He was dumbfounded.
After spotting the Choheung Bank sign, the scenery around him suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t 2008—the year he’d been breathing—in the slightest.
Even the fashion of the people seemed strangely outdated.
For someone close to seventy like him to think it was outdated, it must truly be old-fashioned.
The decisive factor was the conversations of the people.
Though they couldn’t hear him, he could hear them.
Eavesdropping on their conversations became his only solace in this profound loneliness.
“What? Seongwook fell off the Han River Bridge? Gosh, I’d heard a lot of people were dying lately, but for it to happen so close to home… So, where’s the funeral? Pyeongtaek? That’s quite far…”
Suddenly, there were lots of deaths happening.
“No matter how tough work is, we should be grateful to have jobs in times like these. Even if the wages are low, it’s enough to buy rice.”
People were thankful just to have work.
“Really? The stock index recovered to 300? I told you so, didn’t I? This is just the beginning. Don’t panic and hold tight.”
The stock index at 300?
“Why bother collecting and offering gold? While regular people struggled to give simple rings, the rich made a profit by trading that gold Seriously.”
Ordinary people offering up gold.
If that’s the case…
Wasn’t this the IMF crisis?
Goo Young-jin gulped, though no saliva came.
This wasn’t 2008 when he’d died. It was at least ten years earlier.
No matter how unpredictable the divine workings of heaven might be, could this make any sense?
Binding a dead man’s soul to the earthly realm wasn’t enough—they had rewinded time by a decade.
If a god existed, could they possibly be this cruel?
Though not easily surprised, Goo Young-jin couldn’t help but be repeatedly shocked by the events following his death.
But the shock was brief.
He returned to his original question: how long would he have to endure this?
Surely, they wouldn’t rewind time and leave him here to rot until 2008.
The thought was horrifying.
This hypothesis seemed increasingly plausible.
As a ghost, there was no sleep, only endless wakefulness.
He spent his first night as a ghost with his eyes wide open.
And the first night turned into the second, then the third, then the fourth…
About a week passed.
He felt no hunger, thirst, or fatigue.
Simply floating in emptiness, he sat there yet again.
Until someone who recognized him approached.
“E-excuse me, young man.”
In a trembling voice, Goo Young-jin spoke to the person.
“Sorry. My great-uncle passed away suddenly, so I don’t think I can meet you today.”
“Oh, I see. Then it can’t be helped. My condolences.”
Cha Jaerim hung up the phone with a faint smirk.
“If you’re going to make an excuse, at least make it sound believable.”
The call was from the woman he was supposed to have a blind date with.
Why had she decided not to meet him at the last minute?
Most likely, she’d spotted him from a distance, recognized him, and decided to turn around.
Jaerim glanced at his reflection in a nearby shop window.
My face isn’t bad enough to make someone walk away on sight.
In fact, he thought he was quite good-looking.
He lowered his gaze to his clothes.
Was my outfit too shabby?
If so, there was nothing he could do about it.
Life had been tough, leaving no room for luxuries like nice clothes.
Still, it stung to be dismissed without even exchanging a word.
If she’s the type to judge by appearances, it’s better to part ways now.
Resolving to take the optimistic view, Jaerim smiled and stood up.
He’d hoped to enjoy a nice meal at an upscale restaurant for a change, but dining alone felt like an unnecessary indulgence.
“Excuse me, sir. Are you ready to order?”
“I’m sorry, but my plans have changed. I’ll come back another time.”
“Ah, of course. No problem.”
Jaerim offered the waiter an apologetic smile before leaving without hesitation.
I came all the way to Seocho-dong for this.
Seocho-dong wasn’t exactly an easy place to reach from where he lived, especially by public transport.
Forget it.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Jaerim trudged toward the subway station.
A chilly autumn breeze swept past him, making him feel even more pitiful.
As he walked through the main street toward the station, a loud, agitated voice pierced his ears.
“Damn it! Fuck, damn it all!”
Jaerim frowned. It wasn’t uncommon to encounter drunks shouting on the street, but this voice was unusually clear and coherent.
Clicking his tongue, Jaerim intended to walk past, but then he stopped in his tracks.
The shouting old man also froze, as if sensing Jaerim’s gaze.
“Hey, young man!”
“…”
“You can see me, can’t you?”
“…”
“Don’t just stand there! Answer me! You can see and hear me, right?”
Jaerim nodded slowly.
“Yes, I can see you.”
“Oh, thank God!”
The old man, Goo Young-jin, who hadn’t been particularly religious in life, now called out to a deity.
Jaerim smirked.
“A ghost calling out to God? That’s ironic.”
“You… you know I’m dead?”
Goo Young-jin’s face twisted in shock.
“Yes, I know.”
“Could you speak a little louder? I can barely hear you.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Jaerim sighed, looking exasperated.
“Only I can see you. If I start shouting, people will think I’ve lost my mind, talking to thin air.”
“Ah… I see. I didn’t consider that. My apologies.”
Goo Young-jin wasn’t one to apologize easily. In his 60-plus years, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d admitted fault.
Yet here he was, bowing his head to a stranger he’d just met.
“Can you tell me what year it is now? It’s not 2008, is it?”
“It’s 1998.”
Goo Young-jin felt a surge of pride in figuring it out so quickly. Even in death, my sharp mind remains intact.
“Then… how can you see me?”
“It’s a long story, not one I can explain while standing here.”
“In that case, could you take me somewhere quieter? I need your help to get unstuck from this place.”
Jaerim chuckled dryly.
“If my blind date had gone well today, maybe I’d have been in a generous mood. But as it stands, I’m not feeling very charitable. Sorry.”
He gave a polite nod before brushing past Goo Young-jin.
“Wait! Please wait!”
The ghost’s voice cracked, desperation etched across his face as Jaerim walked away.
“I’m from 2008! Ten years into the future! I know what’s coming, and I can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams! Just listen to me!”
Jaerim paused mid-step.
Seeing his chance, Goo Young-jin spoke even faster.
“Stick with me, and you’ll never regret it! I don’t know what you do for a living, but I guarantee you, I always repay favors. Always!”
Jaerim glanced down at his shabby attire, a constant reminder of his struggles.
If the ghost could really deliver on his promise… maybe this was his chance to escape his cursed reality.
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