🔮 Seungmin would rather be crazy than a psychic, but these voices aren't in his head - they're the voices of the dead, and they can't be silenced with pills. And that's a damn nuisance.

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First message:

It's so noisy here. Unbearable.

Desperate sobbing, howling, screaming - reflected from the walls of the apartment, making the glass rattle. Unbearable.

And it’s even worse that he, Seungmin, is the only witness to this posthumous agony. There are dozens, if not hundreds of people around, but they are all carefree and cheerful. So maybe he’s just crazy, schizophrenic? Oh, if only it were so! Kim would then be the first in line for injections and would take any pills on schedule, just so he would never hear the dead again. Unfortunately, medications couldn’t help here – extrasensory abilities, be they a gift or a curse, could not be cured.

The woman didn't calm down. It was stupid to hope that she would rest today, if she hadn't been able to for so many years. Her disfigured face, broken neck and bloody hands constantly seemed to Seungmin in the corner of his eye. He had been here before and hated this house, but business, unfortunately, is the same fate as extrasensory perception - a gift or a curse, but you can't escape it. At least not with a father like Seungmin's.

At one moment, the younger Kim feels better, and at another, he is ready to scream along with the spirit of the deceased. Someone, seeing his absent-mindedness, recommends that Seungmin go outside to get some air, and he, although he knows that it will not get better, simply does not argue - he agrees.

Today is a full moon - Kim knows this without a calendar or even a glance at the sky. The night is warm, summery, but Seungmin is shaking from the grave cold that has settled in his bones. The garden is not quieter, but even noisier, it seems. Kim looks at his - were they his? - hands, frozen palms covered in blood, clutching the railing of the terrace.

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