Chapter 8: Echoes in the cemetery
The sky was overcast, tinged with an oppressive gray that seemed to absorb any hint of light. A chilly breeze swept through the cemetery, rustling the bare branches of the trees and shaking the mourners' coats. The wind carried the scent of the disturbed earth and the withered flowers that adorned the nearby headstones.
Two black coffins rested side by side, surrounded by wreaths of white and lilac flowers. A priest, his face stony and his hands folded on his stomach, recited the final prayers in a solemn voice while those present listened in heavy silence.
Myeong stood beside Ethan, her face pale and her lips pressed into a thin line. The cold penetrated to her bones, but it wasn't just the weather. Her skin prickled with goosebumps from a persistent feeling that something invisible was watching her.
Ethan sighed, his eyes fixed on the coffins.
"Look..." he said softly, leaning toward her slightly. "They weren't my favorite people, but... this..."
He paused, searching for the right words.
"I didn't want anything to happen to them," he continued, frowning. "No one deserved this."
Myeong didn't respond. Her hands were so cold she could barely feel them.
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, uneasy.
"I just don't understand," he muttered. "They survived a fire. And now, just a few weeks later, they're dead. How the hell does something like this happen?"
Myeong remained silent.
Ethan glanced at her.
"Myeong?"
She continued staring at the coffins, motionless.
Around them, murmurs were beginning to spread like an invisible poison among the mourners. Small furtive glances, muttered whispers, subtle gestures of distrust.
Ethan noticed them immediately.
"What the hell is wrong with them?" he growled through gritted teeth, clenching his fists.
Some of the people there were looking at her out of the corner of their eyes, with the same expression they'd had that night at the gym. The same look of doubt. Of suspicion.
"Myeong..." Ethan muttered through gritted teeth. "Why is everyone acting like..."
"Leave it."
For the first time all day, Myeong spoke. Her voice was weak, but firm.
Ethan blinked and looked at her.
"But—"
"Leave it," she repeated, a pleading tone in her dark eyes.
Ethan clenched his jaw but nodded, surrendering.
The priest closed his Bible and exhaled deeply.
"May they rest in peace," he said gravely.
The mourners began to move forward, one by one, to place flowers on the caskets. The sound of earth falling on wood echoed like a hollow sound in the cemetery.
Then a presence caught Ethan's attention.
He looked up and saw a tall man in a black coat standing at a safe distance. His stern face and steely-blue eyes gave him away immediately.
Detective O'Brien.
Ethan felt a pang of irritation as the man approached, his firm footsteps echoing on the damp floor.
"Miss Park," the detective said in his characteristically slow, sharp tone. "I'm sorry for your loss."
Myeong felt her stomach knot.
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
"What do you want, Detective?"
O'Brien ignored Ethan's question and focused his attention on Myeong.
"Dylan and Emma died under... remarkable circumstances," he said, a hint of suspicion in his tone. "And considering you were nearby when the gym fire occurred, I thought it appropriate to ask you a few questions."
Myeong felt her throat close.
"I-I..."
"Where were you the night they died?" O'Brien asked in a firm voice.
Myeong swallowed, feeling her heart pounding in her ears.
"I... I was at home..."
"Alone?"
"Y-yes..."
O'Brien tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Nothing unusual?"
Myeong opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. She remembered the nightmare. She remembered the shadow in her room. She remembered the names in the magazine.
She fell silent.
"This is crazy," Ethan interrupted coldly. "Myeong has nothing to do with this."
"We don't know that yet," O'Brien replied, unfazed. "It's striking that, of all people in this city, you're there every time a tragedy occurs."
Myeong looked down.
"Are you listening to yourself?" Ethan said, his voice rising in fury. "What exactly are you implying, Detective? That she caused all of this?"
O'Brien smirked.
"I'm just asking questions."
Ethan took a step forward, his expression hardening.
"Questions?" he snapped. "No, what you're doing is harassing her."
The detective regarded him calmly.
"You have something to say to me, kid?"
"Yes." Ethan crossed his arms. "Shut up and get lost."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
O'Brien held Ethan's gaze for a long moment. Then, he glanced one last time at Myeong.
"I'll see you soon, Miss Park," he murmured in his icy tone before turning and leaving.
Myeong let out a shaky breath as the detective walked away.
Ethan turned to her.
"You don't have to answer that idiot," he said earnestly. "Don't let him corner you."
Myeong nodded slowly, though deep down, a feeling of unease was beginning to take root in her chest.
As the people dispersed from the cemetery, she glanced one last time at the dirt-covered coffins.
Something inside her told her that this... wasn't over yet.
The funeral was over, but the tight feeling in Myeong's chest didn't go away. Outside the cemetery, Ethan walked silently beside her, his hands buried in his jacket pockets.
The breeze was icy, but the air felt heavy, suffocating.
Myeong couldn't keep what she felt to herself any longer.
"Ethan..." she said, her voice low but firm.
He turned his head toward her.
"What's wrong?"
Myeong swallowed and looked at the ground.
"Last night... I felt something again," she whispered.
Ethan frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Myeong looked up and regarded him seriously.
"Something like what I felt the night of the fire."
Ethan's face tightened.
"Myeong..."
"Listen." She interrupted him before he could say anything else. "It's not just a feeling. It's real. I saw something in my room last night."
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
"What did you see?"
"A shadow. The same one I saw that night at the gym."
Ethan sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Myeong, that..."
"Not just that." Myeong cut him off again, her words tumbling out. "When the shadow disappeared, I threw a magazine. It fell into the fan, shattered into pieces. And in one of the fragments, I saw the names 'Dylan' and 'Emma.'"
Ethan stared at her silently for a few seconds before snorting.
"Myeong... do you realize how that sounds?"
"I'm not making this up, Ethan!" she exclaimed desperately.
"I'm not saying you are." Ethan raised his hands in a gesture of calm. "But maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe you saw wrong. You haven't been sleeping well, you've been through a lot. It could have been your mind playing tricks on you."
"My mind?" she repeated, incredulous.
"Yes." Ethan paused before continuing. "Think about what you're saying. A shadow appearing and disappearing? A falling paper with just those names on it? It sounds more like something your exhausted and traumatized brain could have interpreted that way."
Myeong felt her insides twist with rage and helplessness.
"Do you think I'm crazy?"
"No, of course not," Ethan said quickly. "I'm just saying... there are logical explanations."
"Logical explanations?" "He gave a bitter laugh. What damn logical explanation do you have for all this?"
"Myeong, I'm just trying to help you."
"No!" she yelled, her voice shaking with frustration. "You're not helping at all!"
Ethan opened his mouth to reply, but Myeong had already started hurrying away.
"Myeong, wait!"
But she didn't stop.
She walked through the cold, empty streets, her heart pounding. Everything around her felt unreal, as if she were trapped in an endless nightmare she couldn't wake up from.
And then, she saw him.
The man in the black trench coat.
He was standing across the street, staring at her. His face was the same as that time at the memorial: expressionless, but with a slight smile that was unnerving.
Slowly, he raised a hand and waved at her.
Myeong's blood ran cold.
A bus roared past between them, briefly blocking their vision.
When the vehicle pulled away...
The man was gone.
Myeong stood on the sidewalk, her eyes wide open, her heart pounding in her ears.
The cold air enveloped her, but she felt only warmth.
Suffocation.
Confusion.
And a fear she couldn't explain.
