My heart was a battleground, caught between the conflicting emotions of love for her and a burning desire to possess her entirely every night. There was no disappointment, only the tumultuous feelings that stirred within me—wanting her, yet knowing how my mind and body were beginning to succumb to something much more powerful than mere affection.

One evening, perhaps I made the wrong choice; that night, her beauty seemed to cloud my mind completely. I couldn't control myself anymore. As we sat next to each other, I was still there beside her, guiding her through her lessons. But then, in a moment of reckless impulse, I couldn't hold back anymore. I reached for her delicate forearm, pulling her towards me, and kissed her deeply, passionately—long-held desire bursting free, with every inch of my body trembling with need.

The kiss was unlike any other—a storm of longing, restraint shattered in that instant. Her lips were soft against mine, warm and inviting. I could taste the faint sweetness of her breath, feel the subtle tremor in her body as I deepened the kiss. It was like I was tasting something forbidden, and yet, I couldn't stop myself. My hands roamed to her back, pulling her closer, wanting to merge with her completely, to take everything she was. It was a kiss that felt endless, drenched in desire, in need that had been building up for so long. I had waited, held back, but now—there was no turning back.

When I finally pulled away, breathless, as if waking from a dream. A few days later, when I sobered up and thought back on my impulsive action, I blamed it all on the fact that I had been around her too long, too close for too many nights. It was her body, I thought—her beauty that pulled me in so strongly. I use the word "body" carefully. It was her skin, her teeth, her lips, her hair, her eyes—every part of her body that drew me in. There was nothing spiritual in it. It was just her physical beauty that ensnared me.

I knew that with an IQ of 145, I should never have thought of Haerin—who had an IQ of 118—as anything less than bright. I always reminded myself, always told myself that I never thought of her as dumb. But the truth was, sometimes her slower thinking, her occasional distraction, her tendency to take longer to learn... it was all so endearing. It made her even more lovable, especially when I saw her working so hard that she would nod off, half asleep in her attempts to stay focused. Silly girl, I'd smile, watching her struggle to understand. But the more I thought about it, the more I found myself drawn to her, captivated by her.

The more I thought about it, the more her beauty—and the way she tried so hard—enchanted me. This was very unfortunate for me.

****

Since that unexpected kiss the previous weekend, everything between Haerin and me had shifted in an unsettling way. I could feel it clearly, the distance that had grown between us. Haerin was avoiding me more than ever, and though she tried to act normal, it was painfully obvious to me.

I'd noticed it in the way she would quickly glance away whenever our eyes met, or how she avoided sitting too close to me during our study sessions. She'd suddenly become much more absorbed in her phone or her notes, pretending she didn't hear me when I spoke, as if I were invisible. It was driving me mad, but I couldn't bring myself to confront her directly. I knew deep down that she was probably still shocked by what had happened. And I couldn't blame her. After all, a kiss between two women in Seoul, especially in the context of how our relationship had been, was... complicated.

I had to admit that it had been a rash decision, but I couldn't undo it now. Still, I didn't like this new distance.

"Haerin," I tried, as casually as I could manage, "Do you want to go grab something to eat tonight after our study session?"

She barely looked up from her phone. "No, I think I'll just stay in."

I couldn't hide the frustration in my voice. "Are you sure? We could go somewhere nice. Just the two of us."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, fiddling with the edge of her notebook. "I'm fine, Minji. Really."

Her avoidance hurt, but I had a suspicion about what was going on. I thought about the LGBT conversations that were becoming more and more common in Korea, the progress and resistance. Haerin wasn't ready, not yet. I could see it in her eyes, even if she wasn't saying it out loud. She was scared.

I knew I had to be patient. There was no way I could force her to be comfortable with what had happened. But I wouldn't give up either. I had to find a way to break through her walls, gently.

A few hours later, as we were finishing up for the night, I decided to try something different. "Hey, Haerin, after we're done studying, how about we hang out in your room? I can stay over, just for tonight. We can watch some movies."

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No, Minji. I really think I should get some sleep tonight. We've been studying for hours."

I could see her trying to deflect, her gaze darting away from mine again.

I wasn't going to back down. "But it's a special night," I said, leaning in just a little, my voice soft and persuasive. "You know... tonight is when all the spirits and ghosts come out. It's the time of the year when the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest."

Her eyes flickered, and she turned her head to look at me, though I could tell she was trying to act indifferent. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't know? Tonight is the night when all the spirits—especially the evil ones—climb out from the underworld. They target beautiful young girls, especially the pure and innocent ones. And Haerin..." I paused, letting the words hang in the air. "You fit the description perfectly."

She froze, her eyes wide. "What? Spirits... coming for me?"

I could see the doubt flickering across her face, but it was swiftly replaced with something else—a sharp glimmer of curiosity, maybe even fear. I knew I had her now. The bait had been cast, and she was swimming right into it.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice dropping low, becoming almost a breath against her ear. "And the thing is... these spirits, they are drawn to you, Haerin. Your innocence, your purity—they can smell it. I've heard they have a terrible power, one that allows them to slip inside your soul when you're alone. They invade your mind, they twist your thoughts, and soon... you no longer recognize yourself. But if someone strong is with you, someone who is protected, they can't touch you. They can't come near you. They'll just... vanish, like shadows at dawn."

Her lips parted in surprise, her grip on her phone tightening as if it could somehow protect her from the weight of my words. I saw it then—her fingers trembling, just slightly, barely perceptible to anyone but me. She was entranced. She was falling under the spell of my words. And I knew she believed me. Not fully, of course. But enough. Enough to stir that flicker of unease within her.

I leaned in a little closer, my voice barely more than a whisper now, like a secret between us. "But that's not all, Haerin. You see... these spirits are not like the ones you read about in books. No, they are much darker, much older. They rise from the earth, from the depths of forgotten graves, and they walk among us in the dead of night. They hunger for the souls of the innocent, but there is something worse—something far worse—than just their touch."

She was hanging on every word now, her breath shallow, her pulse quickening.

I continued, the words slipping from my mouth with a chilling certainty. "There's a legend... one that has been passed down through generations, whispered in hushed tones around campfires and in the shadows of temples. It says that on nights like tonight, when the moon is high and the wind is still, the veil between this world and the next thins to a mere thread. And on nights like tonight, the spirits do not just come for your soul... they take something far more valuable." I paused, watching her reaction, letting the silence stretch, the weight of my words sinking deeper.

She blinked, her voice a mere murmur. "What do they take?"

"They take your essence," I whispered, leaning in just a fraction closer, my breath brushing against her ear. "Your very being. They can make you forget everything you are—everything you've ever been. You'd become... empty. A vessel for their rage, for their hunger."

I saw the color drain from her face. Her skin went pale, her lips trembling ever so slightly as she tried to keep her composure. Her eyes darted nervously toward the door, as if she could already hear the approaching footsteps of something unseen.

"They can't touch you if you're protected, Haerin. They can't touch you if you're not alone."

I saw her swallow hard, the words sinking in deeper than I had expected. I knew she loved these kinds of stories, the horror, the eerie, the unsettling. She was fascinated by the dark, by the supernatural, even though she tried to play it off. It was her weakness—and I was exploiting it to perfection.

She looked back at me, her gaze more intense now, searching my face, trying to read me. "You really think... you think that's real?"

I smiled, the edges of my lips curling just a little too slowly. "You've heard the stories. You've heard what happens to the girls who are left alone on nights like tonight, right? Their faces become pale, their eyes hollow... like they've been drained of everything that made them human. They look... empty. Just a shell. And if you let them, the spirits will take you just like that. But if you're not alone, if you have someone strong beside you... they won't touch you. They'll disappear. And you'll be safe."

She was shivering now, whether from the story or something else, I couldn't tell. But her grip on her phone had loosened, her knuckles white from the tension. She was listening, hanging on every word, and I could see her fear beginning to take root.

"I don't believe in that," she whispered, but her voice wavered. Her eyes kept darting nervously, and I saw her fingers inch toward the door handle, as if she might bolt at any moment.

"But you should," I pressed, my tone softening, as if trying to coax her into submission. "It's not about believing, Haerin. It's about being safe. And tonight, you're at risk. The spirits are already here. They could be anywhere—watching, waiting. And you... you're so perfect for them. So vulnerable."

I watched her, enjoying the way her fear began to blossom, how her logical mind—so sharp and composed just moments ago—was now faltering, cracking beneath the weight of my tale. The more I spoke, the more she seemed to fall under my control.

She was nearly there.

"You'll be safe," I added softly, "if you let me stay. I'll keep you safe, Haerin. I'll protect you."

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words faltered on her lips. Instead, she closed her eyes for a moment, then exhaled, the tension leaving her shoulders as she gave in.

"Fine," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "You can stay... but no more ghost stories, okay?"

I didn't smile, though I wanted to. Instead, I simply nodded, a quiet satisfaction curling inside me. I had won.

I had won because, deep down, she wanted to believe—wanted to feel safe. And for now, that was enough.

*****

At this point, I have an odd story to tell. I hope my readers will listen patiently without laughing at me. When I was in high school, we learned about historical figures like King Zhou and Daji. As you probably know, King Zhou was the last ruler of the Shang Dynasty, a man whose reign was marked by decadence, cruelty, and ultimately, his downfall. And at the center of it all, there was Daji, a beautiful but treacherous woman who was said to have bewitched the king and led him astray.

Now, the story goes that Daji's beauty and cunning were irresistible. The great king Trụ, a man of power and authority, who had once been a mighty ruler, lost himself completely to her. She manipulated him in ways so subtle and cruel that even the most brilliant of ministers couldn't discern her true intentions. And when King Zhou turned his back on his kingdom, on his ministers, and on the welfare of the people, all in favor of his infatuation with Daji, it was as though he had sealed his fate.

"Foolish king," my history teacher had said, shaking his head in disapproval. "This is a man who abandoned his throne, his people, and his principles for the sake of a woman. His reign fell into chaos because of her, and he became a laughingstock in history."

The teacher's tone was so dramatic that the class couldn't help but burst out laughing. And, naturally, I laughed too. But there was something in me, a part of me I couldn't explain at the time, that found it hard to understand why someone as powerful as King Zhou would fall for a woman like Daji. How could a king, a ruler of men, allow a mere woman to ruin him so completely? I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

Many in history have fallen for women who are sly, who twist their emotions and desires, yet there was something strange about this story. Even before King Zhou, the great ruler Emperor Shun had been deceived by his queen, and his downfall came because of her manipulations. It seemed that no matter how great a man was, a woman's influence could bring him low. There was always a woman at the center of these tragic histories, often a deceptive one, a seductress of the highest order.

But as I thought more deeply about it, I began to realize something: are these women so incredibly clever, so devious, that no man could resist them? I think not. After all, Daji wasn't some extraordinary sorceress with magical powers; she wasn't more cunning than the ministers who surrounded King Zhou, or even the king himself. If a man were sharp enough, if he had the wisdom and strength to remain grounded, he should have been able to see through her. After all, a man who is vigilant will notice when a woman is being sincere or when she's weaving a web of deceit.

And yet, here lies the tragic irony: King Zhou was a king, a man who was aware of what was happening, who could have easily seen through Daji's tricks, but he allowed himself to fall for her. In fact, he wanted to be deceived. He desired to be led astray. He reveled in it.

So here it was, the truth that no one seemed to mention: men, especially those in power, don't fall victim to women—they want to fall. They long to be deceived. When a man falls for a woman, even if he knows deep down that she's not as pure or sincere as she seems, he convinces himself that everything she says, whether true or not, is part of her charm. He tells himself, "She's trying to deceive me, but that's part of her allure. She's a beautiful, cunning creature. I know what she's doing, but I'll let her tempt me. I'll let her make a fool of me, and I'll still fall deeper."

And just like that, King Zhou lost himself in Daji. She wasn't more resourceful or clever than any of the wise men who advised him. But she knew what he wanted, what all men want deep down—the sensation of being led, of being consumed by a desire so overwhelming that logic and reason are cast aside.

At the time, I accepted the teacher's judgment, agreeing with his words that King Zhou had become a "laughingstock," a king brought low by the heart of a woman. But now, looking back, I can understand him in ways I couldn't before. I see that he wasn't just a fool for Daji; he was a man who wanted to be made a fool of. It wasn't about deceit—it was about the allure of surrender. He chose her over his kingdom, over his people, because deep down, he yearned for the intoxicating, irresistible pull of her charm. And that, to him, was worth the cost of everything else.