Park Tae-hyun stretched his legs, trying to push himself out of the confined space, but a sharp click echoed from outside.

  The lock had been fastened.

  Trapped. No way out.

  For a brief moment, a wave of déjà vu washed over him. It was as if he had returned to that moment—the moment they forced him into that cramped coffin.

  But this time, there was no panic, no rage. He simply raised a hand and knocked against the metal plate above his head.

  "What now?"

  Someone had pushed him into this ice coffin and locked it. That much was clear. But unless they were utterly deranged, they wouldn't have done it just for fun. And Park Tae-hyun didn't believe his luck was that miserable.

  Besides…

  He had locked the morgue door himself when he came in.

  Who else could know the access code?

  Would you believe a lunatic had randomly stumbled in and done this?

  Yeah. Neither would he.

  The only explanation was that something had helped him—completely, thoroughly.

  But there was no answer to his question. The silence outside remained undisturbed.

  He exhaled softly. Then, without another thought, he closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him.

  This time, sleep came quickly.

  He hadn't rested in two days. Too much had happened. His body was screaming for relief, exhaustion wrapping around him like an iron weight.

  Even if the world drowned in a flood after his death…

  Right now, no one could stop him from sleeping.

  He didn't know how long he was out. But when Park Tae-hyun's eyes fluttered open, he felt… different. Refreshed. The weight of exhaustion had lifted.

  Unfortunately, so had the warmth in his body.

  A deep, bone-chilling cold had set in. His limbs felt stiff, almost frozen solid. He shifted slightly, the cramped space making movement difficult. The faint sound of cracking joints filled the silence, like ice snapping beneath a heavy boot.

  Oddly enough, it felt… good. A wave of comfort spread through him, almost pleasurable.

  His nails, all ten of them, had grown unnaturally long—dark, gleaming with an eerie luster. As if the stiffness and biting cold in his body were retreating, drawn toward the sharp tips of his fingers.

  The transformation didn't last long. But when it was over, the cold no longer bothered him.

  His foot pressed forward again.

  Slide.

  The ice coffin moved effortlessly.

  Unlocked?

  A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He sat up, stepped down onto the cold steel floor, and pushed the ice coffin back into place. His clothes had stiffened, hanging off him like pieces of cardboard, adding to his discomfort.

  His eyes swept across the morgue.

  The hospital's morgue wasn't particularly large—nothing like those sprawling ones in major cities—but it held its fair share of the dead.

  His gaze landed on the row of covered bodies.

  Nothing seemed unusual.

  The old woman, still wrapped in her floral quilt, remained in the same position.

  And yet… something felt off.

  Park Tae-hyun frowned.

  He remembered clearly—before he fell asleep, her head and feet had been facing a certain way.

  Now, they were reversed.

  A mistake? Unlikely.

  The morgue attendant wouldn't sneak in just to flip a corpse over and then leave without doing anything else.

  His fingers drummed lightly against the metal tray.

  "If it was you," he said aloud, voice calm but firm, "this is your chance to come out."

  No response.

  She had locked him in, that much was clear. But she had also quietly unlocked the coffin for him while he slept.

  That meant she wasn't trying to harm him.

  Perhaps she had regretted it.

  Perhaps someone else had come, noticed the unlocked coffin, and left.

  He waited. Thirty seconds passed.

  Nothing.

  Just as he was about to turn and leave—

  A sigh.

  Soft. Lingering.

  It sent a strange chill down his spine.

  Park Tae-hyun's lips curled in distaste.

  Twisting hesitation. Wanting to flee yet wanting to stay. A refusal mixed with reluctant longing.

  This wasn't a romantic drama.

  She was an old woman when she died, so why act like some lovesick girl?

  Yes, it was wrong to judge based on appearances. But let's be honest—people tend to be a little more tolerant toward beautiful female ghosts. That's just human nature.

  Would Ning Caichen still have fallen in love with Nie Xiaoqian if she had been a wrinkled old woman with yellowed teeth?

  Doubtful.

  He turned.

  An elderly woman with silver hair crouched on the floor, dabbing at her eyes with a faded white handkerchief.

  She was weeping.

  Or at least… trying to.

  But ghosts don't have tears.

  So from his perspective, she simply looked like she was howling.

  "Go on. Cry your heart out. I won't stop you."

  Park Tae-hyun turned away, preparing to leave.

  He was, at the end of the day, still human. Even when dealing with ghosts, he had his preferences.

  "Help me. I have money."

  His steps halted.

  "Hmph."

  His lips twitched into a faint smirk.

  He was short on money.

  Kim Min-woo—damn him—had barely 40,000 won left in his bank and mobile payment accounts combined. Add the 110,000 won sent by the "murderer," and his total fortune amounted to a pitiful 150,000 won.

  His house? Gone.

  His savings? Donated to an orphanage.

  He was truly, utterly broke.

  "Where?" he asked simply.

  "My cabinet. An old, yellow-painted one in my house. There's 30 Million won inside. Also, my dowry—jade hairpins, jade bracelets. I don't know their worth."

  "You died suddenly and didn't get the chance to tell your sons?"

  She nodded.

  Park Tae-hyun let out a slow breath.

  "Fine. I'll take my share."

  The old woman hesitated, but in the end, she nodded.

  She knew the truth.

  Without his help, her sons might never find the wealth she left behind.

  After leaving the hospital, he hailed a taxi to Seongdong Town in the TZ district. It wasn't far—Hanam Airport was located there.

  He had already checked the hospital records.

  The old woman had died in the hospital after failing to receive proper treatment. Her family had abandoned the body, leaving behind unpaid medical bills.

  It took half an hour to reach the village she described.

  Her home was a two-story house, but beside it stood a smaller, aged brick hut.

  Workers were already in the process of tearing it down.

  Park Tae-hyun approached one of them, offering a cigarette.

  "Working even this close to New Year?"

  "Just trying to earn a little more before the holidays," the man chuckled.

  "Whose house is this?"

  The worker glanced toward the hut. Inside, workers had already removed the roof, and the walls were being dismantled brick by brick. The old woman's yellow cabinet? Gone. Not even a stool remained.

  "Their mother lived here alone before she passed. Now, they're demolishing it to build a new Restaurant."

  The worker leaned closer as he lit his cigarette.

  "The guy who just walked by? That's the eldest son."

  Park Tae-hyun's gaze followed.

  A middle-aged man with graying hair.

  Bruises marred his face.

  "The five brothers have been fighting over their mother's money. None of them even wants to pay the hospital bills."

  The worker exhaled a puff of smoke.

  "As for the stuff inside? Sold it all to a junk dealer when the old lady was first hospitalized."

  Park Tae-hyun chuckled darkly.

  Not only had the mother left with nothing, but even her sons had missed out.

  And him?

  He had made the trip for nothing.

  His patience was wearing thin. He needed money.

  Not for luxury.

  But at the very least—

  He needed a freezer.

  Or was he supposed to sleep in the morgue every night?