Free Web Novel“When the opening text ‘This video is...’ was about to appear, the maknae pressed the remote.
““Skip this~ Let’s watch from the beginning.””
“Hmm...?”
The darkened screen brightened, revealing a woman. A pale-faced woman lay with her eyes closed, as if asleep, filmed by multiple cameras from different angles.
“Goodness, she’s sleeping on the floor. Her jaw will lock like that...”
As that remark escaped and someone popped an unsweetened jelly candy into their mouth, the camera angle shifted and stopped on her pale face, then began to zoom out slowly.
“...?”
Noticing something odd about the floor material where she lay, Rihyuk spoke.
“It looks like a ceiling?”
“You’re right.”
“How can a person lie on a ceiling....”
And at that moment, the woman’s eyes snapped open.
“...Ah, shit!”
“AAAHHH!”
We screamed and clung to each other, horrified by the woman’s face on screen. Where her pupils should have been were bright red spheres like ping-pong balls.
“...”
Without blinking, those red eyes stared straight ahead, and the woman’s mouth began to move into a grin.
“Ahhhh...!”
Rihyuk dove between me and Junhyun like a mole burrowing into a tunnel. The maknae behind the sofa giggled.
“Now you know why I kept this secret till now, right?”
“Hey...!”
“Actually, it was horror. I wanted to scare hyungs on purpose... AAH!”
Under a barrage of thrown cushions, the maknae shrieked and collapsed.
“Damn you...”
My heart was pounding—I thought I’d die. Still too scared to face the TV, I hid behind the sofa, and the maknae spoke cheerfully.
“But the scary part is over now.”
“Is that so?”
I glanced at the screen again. The woman with red eyes still smiled as her mouth moved.
Tap
Like a ping-pong ball bouncing.
Tap
As she pressed her mouth to the ceiling, making ping-pong sounds, we screamed again.
“You said the scary part was over...!”
“Oh! I meant there’s an even scarier part... AAH! Stop throwing cushions at me!”
While we pummeled the maknae with cushions, the TV thankfully cut to black.
The web drama had begun with a ghostly presence, and the logo in stylized hanja floated by:
[神異 (Shin-Eui)]
This was the horror/mystery web drama starring Jiho, written by the Sleep author.
Around the same time, a video titled Shin-Eui suddenly appeared in recommendations for viewers browsing MeTube.
‘What is this?’
Commuters on buses and subways, office workers in restroom stalls—various people across the city saw it recommended and blinked in surprise.
‘Oh? This is it.’
‘Jiho’s web drama!’
It was one of the teasers teased on NewBlack TV and in Wooju’s interviews, though only described as “mystery,” leaving everyone curious. Tapping the thumbnail led to Studio LM’s channel.
‘LM... not Lemon, right?’
Just as I admired the sparkling production name, a serious warning scrolled across: “Not recommended for the elderly or those of weak constitution.”
‘How scary can it be...?’
Thinking it might be a horror film, viewers braced themselves as the drama began.
“Puhuh—!”
Someone with earbuds spit out their juice.
“Jesus!”
A person adjusting screen brightness on a bus rear seat shrieked and dropped their phone.
‘What... what is this...?’
A 17-minute runtime appeared under the title Shin-Eui. People’s eyes fixed on the first drama video on NewBlack TV.
‘Did the members appear?’
‘What is this. Not even a game ad...’
‘Is it a short film?’
An inscrutable video. Soon the title faded and the story began.
[Huu...]
A weary man in his thirties disembarked a bus. With a crossbody bag, he trudged into his apartment building, then a bell rang for the fourth floor. Under the “F” floor marker, he walked the worn corridor. The door opened, and daylight spilled into the dark apartment.
[I’m home.]
As his tired voice echoed, wedding photos of him and a «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» smiling woman in the living room appeared.
‘Oh... a married couple.’
He set down his bag and reached for the light switch. Click. Click.
[Why won’t this turn on...?]
He flicked the switch repeatedly but the lights stayed off. Only the breeze blowing curtains through an open window and the moonlight cast an eerie glow.
[...]
When he stopped clicking, a faint tap tap rang, like someone bouncing ping-pong balls on the floor, and the camera closed in on his tense eyes.
[Honey.]
Sensing something ominous, he hurried toward the bedroom.
‘No! Mister, not there!’
‘I don’t want you to go in!’
Viewers trembled, wanting to warn him, but the man entered the bedroom. Then:
[...]
He fell backward with a crash, terrified, stumbling into the wall. Tap tap.
Unperturbed, the couple still clung to the ceiling, making tap tap sounds with their mouths.
[Uh, uugh...!]
As he trembled, whoosh. The woman’s red eyes moved, fixing on him, her grin deepening. A grotesque shadow fell across his face.
[...]
The screen faded to black. Then tap tap. When it brightened, the man’s ceiling-clinging face was close-up, grinning with red, gleaming eyes like his wife’s.
Click click.
Investigators in hazmat suits photographed the living room props as if crime-scene forensics. The bedroom was cordoned off in plastic, entrance sealed.
‘Is this the police...?’
Outside, a police line surrounded the aging building as residents in pajamas protested.
[What the hell happened here?!]
[Please, calm down...]
When residents refused to calm, uniformed officers sighed and tried to pacify them. Then, over a walkie-talkie:
[We’re not sure, but there may have been toxic gas.]
[Toxic gas?! Oh my!]
Chaos erupted. In suited men and women passed the police line and entered. A middle-aged resident yelled:
[Hey! Toxic gas? What’s going on?!]
[...] frёeωebɳovel.com
Like secret agents, the young operatives proceeded silently. A senior agent asked:
[Status report.]
[The man is 37, the woman is 34. A married couple, currently clinging to the ceiling, making strange sounds.]
[...]
[We don’t fully understand the phenomenon yet.]
They hurried into the living room, the monitor showing the bedroom. A female agent continued:
[One agent on site had an accident.]
[An accident?]
Onscreen, an agent lay dead in a pool of blood on the floor. The man called the site director:
[What happened?]
[He said the tap tap rhythm was familiar—like Morse code.]
[Then?]
[When he decoded the signal, he was shocked and... bled out like that.]
Viewers pieced together: if you discover the secret, you meet this fate. A paranormal government agency seemed to be investigating.
Picking through clues, the man asked:
[Family relations? Any children?]
[They have one son.]
The scene cut to a PC café. A young man playing an online game with friends.
‘It’s Jiho!’
People realized this was the NewBlack TV upload. He’d been so engrossed they’d forgotten.
[Hmm...?]
Jiho frowned at a message on his phone. Exiting the PC café, high-schoolers in uniforms said, “That was fun today,” then parted ways. Though no background was given, his cheerful nature and school leadership role were clear. A messenger notification indicated he was class president and top student.
‘So Jiho is their son?’
Next, Jiho rode a bus, gazing out at the window like a bored teenager. Viewers thought he looked handsome for a 19-year-old playing a student role, though something felt off—his performance seemed slightly stiff compared to Wooju’s naturalness.
When Jiho saw the police line outside his apartment, he quietly slipped toward the fire escape.
[Calm down!]
Amid the shouting crowd, Jiho entered the stairwell. On the fourth floor, earbuds in, he strolled the hallway toward a wide-open door.
‘No!’
‘Jiho, don't do it!’
We shouted at the screen, but Jiho in uniform calmly entered the apartment, removed his earbuds, and set down his bag, unfazed by the scene inside. A male and female agent approached him formally.
[You’re here.]
“You’re here?”
Unmoved, Jiho asked flatly:
[The situation?]
[As you can see...]
His emotionless expression held viewers spellbound. Starting as a teenager, he now seemed an adult hidden behind a student’s façade. Viewers realized it was intentional subtlety.
Impressed, they murmured, ‘Ah, it’s deliberate.’
Then the impassive student said to the two agents:
[Open the door. I’ll go in.]
[Shouldn’t you wear protective gear...?]
[No need.]
With a wave, Jiho stepped into the bedroom. The suited agents withdrew. Inside lay one corpse and the couple on the ceiling. Jiho walked calmly among them, showing no fear—instead his cold eyes gleamed with life.
[Hm...]
He examined the scene with fascination, then began laughing—a deep, ancient laugh like an old tree creaking with mirth.
‘Wow....’
He was human yet not human, portraying an otherworldly presence.
The being spoke:
[You possess a very interesting ability, child.]
Gazing at the corpse like an object, he flipped it over and examined a device displaying Morse code. As he read it, blood trickled from his mouth—but only that.
[I’m sorry. You can’t die.]
Wiping the blood from his lips, they glistened. He extended his hand elegantly into the air. A unique light danced around his fingers, leaving afterimages as if casting a spell.
‘Magic...?’
The bedroom glowed, forcing viewers outside to squint or close their eyes. After a brief silence, Jiho emerged as if finishing a task and waved:
[Go in and secure it.]
[Yes!]
Inside, something previously unseen appeared: the couple lay asleep on the bed, and in the corner a snarling child held an eyeless doll.
‘A doll? A child?’
Without explanation of cause or meaning of the ping-pong sound, the scene shifted. Jiho, adjusting his backpack in the living room, asked:
[Need anything else?]
[No... but how did this happen?]
[If you’re curious, check the thermal footage.]
Leaving those words behind, Jiho exited. The agents on the monitor searched for “thermal camera?” and found footage showing strands much colder than the surroundings—like tentacles. Invisible threads attached like puppet strings to the ceiling-clinging couple, extending throughout the apartment and even entangling the investigators around their necks. The thermal-camera view cut to black.
‘Ugh, what is that?!’
As the child and doll were transported to a special facility, viewers learned what became of them and the nature of the phenomenon.
[Our agency contains very special beings.]
[Beings that have lived for countless ages...]
A male agent’s narration overlapped with Jiho laughing with friends in a classroom. He gazed blankly out a window when alone. A caption read:
[Case No.2756 “Mysterious Sound” – Closed]
Jiho’s eye appeared in close-up. A file-folder font caption appeared:
[Case No.367 “The Man Whose Time Stopped”]
The screen faded, “Shin-Eui (神異)” appeared again, and the video ended.
When the screen went fully black, viewers blinked.
‘What... what was that?’
Stunned by this new web-drama format, they logged on and searched “Shin-Eui.”
Meanwhile, at the NewBlack dorm, the monkeys with smartphones were in an uproar.
“Whoa!”
“What is this? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I searched it, but nothing came up.”
As they blinked at their phones, Jiho said:
“Why search when I’m right here?”
“Oh, right.”
Junhyun pointed at his tablet.
“It’s trending.”
“Already...?”
“‘Jiho’ and ‘Shin-Eui’ are both trending.”
Although it had only just released, the drama was already going viral. Comments with many likes caught their attention:
Those startled by the horror scenes were spreading it.
“Ooo...”
Moved by the netizens’ spirit, we picked up our phones.
“Shall we share it too?”
“Let’s do it.”
Following that gentle trend, we sent the link to friends, smiling contentedly. And ten minutes later:
“Ha ha ha hat!”
Our phones flooded with messages: “You have calls waiting!”
