Chapter 9: Myeong's curse.

Myeong was in her room, sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest. The morning light streamed in palely through the window, but it brought no warmth. The whole world seemed distant, unreal.

It had all happened too fast.

The fire.

Dylan and Emma.

The shadows.

The man in the black trench coat.

Ethan didn't believe her.

No one believed her.

Myeong closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her knees, trying to gather her thoughts. But every time she tried, it all came back to the same inescapable conclusion: something was wrong with her.

Something was following her.

Something was trying to tell her something.

The creak of the door opening brought her out of her reverie.

"Myeong..."

It was her mother.

She peeked her head out first, cautiously, before stepping all the way in and gently closing the door behind her. Her face was a mixture of concern and exhaustion.

"Can we talk?"

Myeong didn't respond. She just shrank further into the bed, staring at the floor.

Her mother sighed and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed, close to her.

"Daughter... it worries me to see you like this." She paused, waiting for a reaction. When she didn't get one, she continued. "You barely speak. You barely eat. Last night I heard you come in and slam the door. What happened?"

Myeong squeezed her eyes shut.

"Nothing," she whispered.

"Myeong." Her mother's voice was soft but firm. "Don't lie to me."

There was a long silence before Myeong finally spoke.

"Mom... something's wrong with me."

Her mother frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Myeong raised her head slowly. Her eyes were filled with fear, with confusion.

"All of this..." she began, her voice cracking. "Everything that's been happening... the fire, Dylan and Emma, the shadows, the things I see..." She ran her hands over her face, trembling. "It can't just be a coincidence."

Her mother held her gaze, waiting for her to continue.

"The night of the fire, I had a vision. I saw everything before it happened." Myeong swallowed, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And now... now it's all happening again."

"What do you mean, 'it keeps repeating itself'?"

"I saw a shadow in my room, Mom." Myeong stared at her, her dark eyes shining with anguish. "I saw a magazine clipping with Dylan and Emma's names before they died. I saw the same man who spoke to me at the memorial, the one wearing a black trench coat. He smiled at me and disappeared."

Her mother was silent for a moment, as if processing what she had just heard.

"Myeong..."

"Mom, I think I'm cursed."

The words hung in the air.

Her mother blinked, surprised.

"Don't say that."

"It's the only explanation." Myeong laughed humorlessly. "It's not normal for someone to have visions before they die. It's not normal to see shadows in the night. It's not normal for the dead to follow me."

Her mother reached out and took her daughter's hand, squeezing it warmly.

"Daughter... what you've been through is traumatic."

"It's not just trauma, Mom," Myeong interrupted. "I know it. I feel it."

Her mother looked at her sadly.

"Sometimes when we go through such difficult things, our minds play tricks on us."

Myeong pressed her lips together in frustration.

"That's what Ethan told me."

Her mother sighed.

"Maybe because it's the truth."

"It's not the truth." Myeong pulled her mother's hand away. "The truth is, something is stalking me. Something is happening, and no one believes me."

Her mother looked at her with a mixture of pity and fear.

"And what do you think is stalking you, Myeong?"

Myeong opened her mouth to respond... but she couldn't.

Because she didn't know herself.

She just lowered her gaze, defeated.

Myeong felt the pressure of her mother's arms around her. Not a casual hug, not a brief or distant one. No. It was a deep, warm, protective embrace, as if with that single gesture she could lull her back to the safety of childhood, when troubles seemed far away and nightmares ended with the dawn.

"You're not cursed, Myeong," her mother whispered against her hair. "Don't say that."

Myeong squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears she'd been holding back began to fall silently.

"Then tell me why this is happening to me," Myeong sobbed. "Why do I see things before they happen? Why do I feel like something is following me? Why the shadows, the names, that man?"

Her mother sighed and gently stroked her cheek.

"I'm going to tell you something, Myeong. Something I've never told you before."

Myeong blinked, confused, as her mother took a deep breath, as if working up the courage to speak.

"Nineteen years ago," she began, "long before you were born, I should have been dead."

Myeong frowned.

"What?"

"It was a cold winter night, just like this one." I had a work party at a hotel, an important meeting where my boss and all my colleagues would be. I made sure to leave early to get there on time, but when I got to the subway station... there was an accident.

Myeong listened intently, her breathing labored.

"I don't know exactly what happened," her mother continued, "but the subway stopped running completely. The trains stopped, the station closed. I was stuck there for hours, waiting, until they finally announced that service wouldn't resume that night."

Her mother paused, her gaze drifting to some point in the past.

"I didn't make it to the hotel. I never made it."

Myeong felt a chill run down her spine.

"And what about the party?"

Her mother looked at her with a solemn expression.

"The hotel burned down that same night. No one came out alive."

The silence between them became unbearable.

Myeong felt a knot form in her stomach.

"Mom..."

"If I had made it, I would have died along with everyone else. But something... something intervened. Something prevented me from getting there."

Myeong gulped.

"Do you think it was a coincidence?"

Her mother shook her head with a soft smile.

"No. I think it was a blessing. And I think you are one too."

"How can you say that?" Myeong asked incredulously. "Everything I touch ends in tragedy."

Her mother took her hands firmly.

"Don't think of it that way. Myeong, you're here for a reason. You may not understand what it is yet, but if you and I are still alive when we shouldn't have, it means we were given a chance. Not a curse, but a purpose."

Myeong was silent, processing every word.

"You don't have to carry this alone," her mother whispered. "You don't have to push away those who love you."

Myeong lowered her gaze.

"Ethan isn't listening to me…"

"Then make him do it. Talk to him. Explain. Don't let one fight ruin everything."

Myeong took a deep breath and nodded.

"I will."

Her mother smiled at her and gently kissed her forehead.

"I love you, Myeong."

"I love you too, Mom."

They hugged again, tighter this time. For the first time in days, Myeong felt a glimmer of relief, a small glimmer of warmth amidst all the darkness.

As her mother pulled away and walked toward the door, she accidentally brushed against a picture frame on Myeong's desk.

"Oh, sorry," her mother said, watching the photograph fall to the floor with a soft click. She bent down to pick it up, but Myeong stopped her.

"I'll do it, Mom."

"Okay. Rest, honey."

Her mother left the room, closing the door behind her.

Myeong bent down and picked up the photograph. It was a picture of her class at school, taken months before the fire. It featured many students, including Dylan, Emma... and all the other survivors. Even Mrs. Wilkes was in the background, staring earnestly into the camera, as she always did.

But something made Myeong freeze.

The glass of the frame had broken. Not just anywhere, but right in Mrs. Wilkes's face.

Her breathing became labored.

No.

It couldn't be a coincidence.