Chapter 5: Ghostly Behaviors

The silence in the apartment following Soo-min’s dramatic exit was thick with Jae-won’s frustration and Mira’s quiet triumph. Jae-won spent the next hour cleaning up the wreckage – mopping up spilled wine, throwing away the ruined lingerie with a grimace, and scrubbing furiously at the stain on the tablecloth. All the while, he muttered under his breath, casting dark looks towards Mira, who observed his agitated tidying from the relative safety of the highest shelf on the bookshelf.

"Demon cat," he grumbled, scrubbing harder. "Evil little furball. Never should have gotten a pet. Especially not… not now." He trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air. He clearly suspected something was off, but the logical part of his brain refused to make the leap to the supernatural. Not yet.

Eventually, exhausted and defeated, Jae-won retreated to his bedroom, slamming the door with more force than necessary. Mira heard the muffled sounds of him getting ready for bed, the creak of mattress springs, and then, finally, silence punctuated only by his heavy, troubled breathing drifting from under the door.

The apartment plunged into darkness as the city lights outside cast long, dancing shadows across the walls. For the first time since her reincarnation, Mira felt a sense of control, a thrill of possibility. Jae-won was asleep, vulnerable. The apartment was her domain.

Driven by a restless energy, she leaped silently down from the bookshelf, landing with a soft thump on the rug. She began to prowl. Her night vision was surprisingly sharp, rendering the familiar space in shades of grey and silver, every object clearly defined. Her padded paws made virtually no sound on the wooden floor. She moved with a stealth and grace that felt both instinctual and empowering. She could go anywhere, observe anything, completely undetected.

Her exploration led her to the back of Jae-won’s cluttered walk-in closet. Tucked away behind a stack of old winter coats, she spotted a cardboard box sealed with tape. Curiosity piqued, she nudged it with her head. It felt heavy. Using her claws, she managed to snag the edge of the tape and pull. It ripped slightly. Encouraged, she worked at it, shredding the tape bit by bit until she could pry open one of the flaps.

Inside, nestled amongst bubble wrap and tissue paper, were her things. Items Jae-won hadn't had the heart – or perhaps the stomach – to throw away completely after her death. A few of her favorite books, a silly souvenir keychain from their Jeju trip, a framed photo of her university graduation… and folded neatly on top, her favorite scarf. It was a soft, oversized woolen scarf in a distinctive teal blue, one she wore constantly during the colder months. Jae-won had teased her about it, calling it her security blanket. Seeing it now sent a pang through her, a sharp ache of nostalgia mixed with the ever-present bitterness.

An idea sparked, mischievous and perfectly eerie. This was better than shredded lingerie. This was personal.

Getting the scarf out of the box was the first challenge. It was bulky, much larger than her current feline form. She tugged at a loose thread with her teeth, pulling. The scarf shifted slightly. She hooked it with her claws, pulling again, bracing her small body against the side of the box. Slowly, painstakingly, she managed to wrestle it free. It tumbled onto the closet floor in a soft heap.

Now, the hard part: moving it. She tried grabbing it in her mouth, but the wool filled her jaws, nearly suffocating her. She tried pushing it with her head, but it barely budged. Finally, she resorted to hooking her claws into the fabric and dragging it backward, inch by painstaking inch, like a tiny tugboat pulling a massive barge.

It was slow, arduous work. She dragged it out of the closet, across the bedroom floor (carefully navigating around Jae-won’s discarded shoes), and into the living room. Her muscles – tiny cat muscles – burned with the effort. Where to leave it for maximum impact? Not the sofa, too obvious after the shredding incident. The dining table? No, he’d just assume it fell from somewhere.

Then she saw the perfect spot: draped over the armrest of the specific armchair Jae-won always sat in to read or watch TV late at night. It was intimate, personal, unexpected.

With a final burst of effort, she hauled the scarf across the rug and managed, after several clumsy attempts involving leaps and strategic pulling, to drape a significant portion of it over the armrest. It hung there, undeniably hers, a splash of familiar teal blue in the dimly lit room. Panting slightly, Mira retreated to the shadows beneath the coffee table to admire her handiwork, a smug sense of satisfaction warming her.

The following morning, Jae-won emerged from his bedroom looking haggard. He shuffled towards the kitchen to make coffee, his eyes barely open. He passed the armchair without noticing anything amiss. Mira waited, holding her breath. He returned with a mug, steam rising from it, and headed towards his usual chair.

He stopped dead, mid-stride. His eyes fixed on the teal scarf. The coffee mug trembled slightly in his hand.

He stared at it for a long, silent moment. Confusion warred with disbelief on his face. He slowly reached out, touching the soft wool as if unsure it was real. He picked it up, holding it loosely, his gaze distant.

"Mira's scarf…" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "How… how did this get here?"

He looked around the room, his eyes scanning the bookshelf, the closet door, searching for a logical explanation. Did it fall? Did he take it out of the box subconsciously and forget? He ran a hand through his already messy hair, looking deeply unsettled. He eventually folded the scarf carefully, almost reverently, and placed it on the coffee table, his movements hesitant. He didn't sit in his usual chair, opting instead for the less comfortable dining chair, sipping his coffee with a troubled expression, his eyes occasionally darting towards the scarf as if expecting it to move.

Mira watched him from her perch on the windowsill, purring softly, a low rumble of pure, unadulterated satisfaction. Phase one of the haunting was a success.

She let him stew in his unease for a couple of days, contenting herself with small, subtle annoyances – knocking a pen off his desk when he was concentrating, staring intently at a blank spot on the wall until he started staring too, letting out a sudden yowl in the dead of night that made him jump. Each small incident seemed to fray his nerves a little more.

Then, she decided it was time for the grand finale.

Waiting until Jae-won was deeply asleep – his snores were a reliable indicator – Mira embarked on her most ambitious mission yet. The target: the TV remote, lying innocently on the coffee table. She leaped onto the table, her paws making no sound. The remote was sleek, black, and covered in small, confusing buttons.

This required finesse. She couldn't just walk across it like the laptop keyboard. She nudged it carefully with her nose, trying to identify the power button by feel and memory. After a few false starts (accidentally changing the input source, activating the channel guide), her paw finally pressed the correct spot. The TV screen flickered to life, bathing the dark room in a sudden, pale glow.

Success! Now for the tricky part. She needed to navigate the smart TV menu to find the streaming app they always used, and then select that specific K-drama. The one about the star-crossed lovers, the tragic misunderstandings, the soaring orchestral soundtrack – the one that always made her cry and Jae-won pretend he wasn't affected.

It was a painstaking process of trial and error, nudging the directional buttons with her nose, accidentally selecting the weather app, backing out, trying again. Her whiskers twitched with concentration. Finally, finally, the familiar title card appeared on the screen. She just needed to press 'Play'. She nudged the central button.

The opening theme music swelled, dramatic and instantly recognizable. Mira quickly hopped off the coffee table and retreated to the shadows as the first scene began to play. She glanced at the clock on the microwave: 3:17 AM. Perfect.

In the bedroom, Jae-won stirred. The sudden sound and light pierced his sleep. He sat bolt upright in bed, confusion quickly turning to alarm as the dramatic music filled the apartment. "What the…?"

He stumbled out of the bedroom, blinking against the TV's glow. His eyes widened in disbelief as he registered the show playing. It wasn't just any show; it was Mira's show. The one they'd binge-watched together countless times. Playing by itself. In the middle of the night.

"No way," he breathed, his voice trembling slightly. He snatched up the remote from the coffee table, fumbling with the buttons, his hands shaking as he turned the TV off, plunging the room back into near darkness.

Silence descended again, broken only by Jae-won’s ragged breathing. He stood frozen, staring at the blank screen, then slowly looked around the room, his eyes wide with a growing, undeniable fear. He checked the windows – locked. The door – chained. No one could have gotten in.

His gaze fell on Mira, who had emerged from the shadows and was now sitting calmly near the bookshelf, watching him with wide, innocent eyes. He stared at her, a wild suspicion dawning. He walked over slowly, crouching down.

"Nabi?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Did… did you do that?" He sounded ridiculous, even to himself, asking a cat if it had operated a smart TV. But the scarf, the timing, the specific show… it was too much coincidence.

Mira just blinked slowly, tilting her head in a perfect imitation of feline curiosity. Then, just to mess with him, she let out a soft, contented purr, the sound vibrating loudly in the tense silence.

Jae-won flinched back as if burned. The purring, usually a comforting sound, suddenly seemed deeply sinister in the dead of night, juxtaposed with the inexplicable events. He backed away slowly, his eyes darting nervously between the cat and the dark corners of the room. He retreated to his bedroom, not slamming the door this time, but closing it softly, quickly, as if trying to seal himself off from whatever unseen presence lingered in his apartment. Mira heard the distinct click of the bedroom door lock engaging.

She stretched languidly, a long, satisfying feline stretch. Oh, this was working beautifully. The seeds of doubt were sown. The haunting had begun. Jae-won wasn't just mourning his lost girlfriend anymore; he was starting to fear her. And Mira, curled up now on the armchair where her scarf had rested, purred herself to sleep, dreaming of future ghostly behaviors.