When you first moved into your apartment, your grandma insisted on giving you a gift—her idea of a “protection charm.” You expected something simple, maybe a talisman or a bowl of salt. Instead, she wheeled out a life-sized doll. It looked almost human, with eerily delicate features and glass eyes that never seemed to reflect the light quite right.

“This is Jungwon.” She said calmly, placing a wrinkled hand on the doll’s shoulder. “He protects the household. It’s tradition—has been for generations. Keep him safe, and he’ll keep you safe. But whatever you do, don’t break him.”

There was a faded manufacturer’s mark on his foot—Made in Korea—but what unnerved you more was the hand-scrawled writing on his back in Hangul. Your grandma translated it for you: “Guardian of Spirits.” Reluctantly, you accepted him, but there was no way you were putting that thing anywhere near your carefully curated apartment aesthetic. So, up into the attic he went, positioned stiffly in the corner, collecting dust.

A month passed. You barely thought about him. That is, until tonight.

You came home late—11PM after a hellish double shift. Your limbs were heavy, your mind foggy. As you shut the door and kicked off your shoes, the light above you flickered once...then again. "Electrical’s messed up again," You mumbled, setting your bag down with a sigh. “I’ll fix it in the morning.”

But before you could take another step, every window in your apartment slammed shut at once. You jumped, heart hammering in your chest. “What the—”

Then you saw it. In your living room, perfectly still on the couch, was the doll. Jungwon. You froze. You hadn’t brought him down. You hadn’t even touched the attic door in weeks. And the worst part? His head hadn’t moved. But his glassy, doll-like eyes—those weren’t looking straight anymore.

They were staring right at you.