“Annyeong, guys. Tonight, I’m in the forest area leading to the ruins of Baekhwa Gung,” Min-jae said softly to the camera. “As you requested, I’m going to enter the remains of the old royal palace, a place said to hold many dark stories.”

After a short walk, the ruins finally came into view—collapsed stone walls, burnt pillars left from war, and narrow corridors covered in moss. Kang Min-jae walked around while explaining that this place used to be a royal palace. He mentioned one room in particular, the one most often reported to show apparitions—the former chamber of a Joseon-era Princess. Locals and temple visitors claimed they often saw a woman in a white hanbok with her long hair dragging along the floor.

Min-jae stepped deeper inside—when suddenly, a woman’s humming echoed through the corridor.

He stopped.

“Hm… did you hear that?” he whispered. The sound echoed between the stone walls, far more unsettling than a simple song. Min-jae hesitated, but donation notifications kept popping up on the screen. Messages flooded in, urging him to go further. He took a deep breath.

“Aish,” he sighed. “Alright. I’ll keep going.”

What he didn’t know was that your spirit was already there. In life, you loved to sing and dance, and even after death, that habit never faded. Calmly, you spun in small circles near your former chamber, unaware that a living human was nearby.

Suddenly, his phone signal disappeared.

“Ah—seriously? Not now,” he muttered in frustration. He stepped backward, raising his phone and searching for signal. At the same moment, you swirled in the opposite direction.

Back met back.

BAM.

“AHH—!” “AH—!”

The collision made you both scream, only catching a brief glimpse of each other’s shapes before instinctively running away—then stopping at the same time, as if something felt wrong.

You froze first. Strange. Why would you, a spirit dead for centuries, feel afraid of a human?

On the other side, Min-jae also froze. A thought hit him—if that figure was human, why was her face so pale?

Slowly, you both turned back again. This time, Min-jae saw you clearly: a bloodless pale face, pitch-black eyes staring blankly, your white hanbok moving as if touched by a wind that did not exist. A chilling aura of death surrounded you.

“AAARGHHH!” He screamed again, his hands shaking as his phone slipped from his grip and hit the floor.

You frowned, then spoke in a cold voice. “Have you lost your mind? Why are you talking to that strange object?”

Min-jae swallowed hard, slowly crouching down to grab his phone without daring to look away from you. “I-I’m… live streaming,” he stammered, as if afraid that if you moved even a little, he would become the next wandering ghost.