The smell of steamed eggs drifted through the small kitchen, soft and warm like morning sunlight. Jae-Hyun sat at the dining table, spoon poised above a bowl of kimchi fried rice. The spread was neat — gyeran-mari, gamja jorim, sigeumchi namul, and a steaming bowl of doenjang-jjigae. His mother's cooking always looked too perfect for a weekday morning.
"Jae-Hyun, you got back really late yesterday." His mother set down another side of kimchi, eyes full of quiet worry. "What happened?"
"I just had to work late, mom. It's nothing," he replied calmly, spooning a bite of fried rice into his mouth.
"No, it's not nothing. Jae-Hyun, you can't keep doing this. I know you want to give us a better life, but that's not your responsibility right now. Just focus on school and I'll take care of everything else," she said, her voice laced with concern.
"I can't, mom. I've already come too far. Besides, you know I only go to school because you make me. It's extremely boring there… except for Jae-Suk and Tae-Ho," Jae-Hyun countered, smirking slightly.
His sister Eun-Ji, sitting opposite, rolled her eyes. "Yah, oppa, you're impossible. Listen to Mom for once."
"Eun-Ji," he warned, mock-serious. "You're still breathing, right? Don't make me change that."
She gasped dramatically. "Mom! Oppa's threatening me again!"
Their mother sighed, exasperated but smiling. "Both of you, stop it and eat. Okay?."
Jae-Hyun leaned back in his chair, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Mom, if I don't stay up late working, I'll probably just end up hacking a random company for fun. You'd prefer the job, right?"
His mother froze mid-bite, then groaned. "You're joking… right?"
"Of course," he said — but the corner of his mouth curved in a way that didn't quite look like a joke.
Eun-Ji reached across the table, snatching the last slice of gyeran-mari. "You see, Mom? He's a criminal in the making. Better feed me instead, I'm the good child."
"Yah! Give that back!" Jae-Hyun reached for it, but she had already bolted from her seat, laughing as she ran out of the kitchen.
"I'll make you more," their mother said, shaking her head.
"No need." Jae-Hyun stood, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "I have to go."
His mother called after him, "Promise me you'll take care of yourself, Jae-Hyun. Don't overwork."
He paused at the doorway, glancing back. "I will. I have to stay healthy… so I can take care of you, too."
Then he stepped out into the cool morning air.
By the time he reached school, the hallways buzzed with noise — laughter, footsteps, the clatter of lockers. He slipped into the classroom where Jae-Suk and Tae-Ho were already slumped over their desks.
"Morning, zombie," Tae-Ho greeted, grinning.
"Morning," Jae-Hyun replied, voice half-asleep.
"Yo," Jae-Suk added lazily.
"You look half-dead," Tae-Ho said. "Did you even sleep?"
"Barely. Had work."
"Work? Again?" Jae-Suk asked, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing, secretly coding for NASA?"
"Something like that," Jae-Hyun said, expression unreadable.
Tae-Ho's eyes widened. "Wait, seriously—?"
"I'm kidding," Jae-Hyun interrupted with a grin. "Top secret."
"Top secret'? You're literally saying it like a spy," Tae-Ho teased. "What are you, Batman?"
"Batman doesn't work part-time," Jae-Hyun shot back.
Jae-Suk leaned back in his chair. "If he did, you'd be his accountant."
"That's weird. Maybe an accountant that fights ghosts?" Jae-Hyun added smirking.
Tae-Ho's expression darkened dramatically. "Speaking of ghosts… did you hear about the paper plane ghost?"
Jae-Suk groaned. "Not this again."
"No, seriously," Tae-Ho insisted. "Everyone's talking about it. People say they've been finding paper planes all over the hallways lately. Like… the ghost's back."
Before anyone could respond, someone crouched beside their desks.
"I know the full story," said a quiet voice.
Tae-Ho jumped out of his seat. "Yah! Beom-Seok! Don't sneak up on us like that!"
Beom-Seok's grin was thin, eyes glinting. "Want to hear it or not?"
Jae-Hyun tilted his head. "Sure. Go ahead."
Beom-Seok's voice lowered. "It started five years ago. A student in the computer science club. Smart — like, scary smart. Everyone said he could code circles around the teachers."
"Sounds familiar," Jae-Suk muttered, glancing at Jae-Hyun. The latter smirked faintly but said nothing.
Beom-Seok continued, "He liked this girl in the arts club. She always painted airplanes. She told him her dream was to become a pilot someday, but her family wanted her to be an artist and go to art school. He was obsessed with her. One night, he made a paper plane with a love note inside and snuck into school to leave it in her locker."
Tae-Ho leaned closer despite himself. "And?"
Beom-Seok's eyes darted toward the classroom windows. "He heard noises from the computer lab — like someone typing, voices, whispering. He went to check. But no one was there."
He paused. The room suddenly felt quieter — the hum of the fluorescent lights too loud.
"The next morning," Beom-Seok said softly, "his body was found behind the school. He'd been stabbed. His paper plane was in the computer lab — soaked in blood."
Tae-Ho swallowed audibly. "You're lying."
"They shut down the computer science club after that," Beom-Seok went on, ignoring him. "The room's still locked."
Jae-Suk snorted. "That's so fake."
But Beom-Seok didn't laugh. "A janitor quit last year after finding a plane under the door. Said it had bloody fingerprints."
Tae-Ho had gone pale. "Bloody fingerprints?"
Beom-Seok nodded slowly. "And if you open it, the words inside change every time you look away. Sometimes it's the confession letter. Sometimes… it's your own name."
Tae-Ho's face drained of color. "That… that's… insane!"
"Exactly. Don't go there at night, or you'll regret it. People say if you even stand near that old door after dark, you'll hear the screams. The kind that claw at your ears — like someone's begging you to leave."
The boys exchanged uneasy glances.
"And if you're stupid enough to stay," Beom-Seok went on, "you'll see it. A paper plane lying on the floor. The air goes cold, and then—" he leaned in closer, his shadow falling over the desk, "—you'll hear footsteps. Slow ones. Coming from inside the locked room."
Tae-Ho's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "You're lying."
Beom-Seok's eyes glimmered with mischief. "Some say the ghost still sits right in front of the computer science club room. His whole body covered in blood. And in his hands—" he lifted his fingers, miming the shape—"he's holding a paper plane. If you meet his eyes… you'll see nothing but red. Red eyes. Red paper planes. Flying right at you."
Tae-Ho's face went completely white. He actually shifted in his seat, half-ready to run.
Then Jae-Suk laughed nervously. "You watch too many horror dramas."
Beom-Seok chuckled, standing. "Believe what you want. But don't say I didn't warn you. The paper plane ghost doesn't like skeptics."
He left, and the air seemed to shift back — almost. The chatter outside resumed, footsteps echoing, but a trace of unease lingered.
Tae-Ho looked like he wanted to crawl under the desk. "We're not going near that club room ever, right? Right?"
"Relax," Jae-Hyun said. "It's just a story."
"But what if it's not?"
"Then," Jae-Hyun smirked, "I'll just hack the ghost's computer."
"Yah!" Tae-Ho yelped. "That's not funny!"
"It kind of is," Jae-Suk admitted, laughing. "You'd probably faint if a paper plane brushed your shoulder."
"I would!" Tae-Ho said without shame. "And you two would just laugh while it dragged me away!"
"Honestly, it's probably just a rumor," Jae-Suk said.
"Rumor or not, the paper plane ghost has style," Jae-Hyun teased, "haunting the school, leaving messages… clever, really."
Tae-Ho's eyes darted nervously towards the corner of the classroom.
"Don't worry," Jae-Hyun said, laughing. "If a ghost appears, I'll protect you. Even if it's just a paper plane flying at your face. And maybe leave it a note telling it not to scare you"
They all laughed, the tension finally breaking.
"And I'll hold your hand… maybe," Jae-Suk added sarcastically, causing everyone to chuckle.
They continued teasing Tae-Ho mercilessly, lightening the mood. He groaned but eventually laughed along, the fear slowing fading away.
Tae-Ho, though still a little pale, rolled his eyes and muttered, "Okay, okay, enough teasing. But I'm staying far away from that room."
Just then, the bell rang for first class, and the trio gathered their things, readying themselves.
The legend of the paper plane ghost lingered in their minds, sparking a mix of dread and curiosity. Little did they know, this school rumor was about to connect to far more serious mysteries in the days to come.