The building was the kind of place Ishaan would have walked past without ever imagining he’d live there.
Marble floors in the lobby, a doorman who bowed slightly when the elevator doors opened, the whole street lined with cars that cost more than his old yearly salary.
“Don’t worry about the price,” Somi said, wheeling one of his boxes in on a dolly like she did this every week.
“You’re not paying for any of it, remember?”
“I still feel weird about it,” Ishaan said.
“You’ll get over it,” Junho said, appearing from the stairwell with another box balanced on his shoulder.
“Everyone does eventually.”
He set the box down and looked at Ishaan for a second, something almost sentimental crossing his face.
“Oh my god, we’re getting someone,” Junho said.
“Do you understand how long it’s been?
It’s been years of just these idiots and me.”
“I heard that,” Somi called from the kitchen.
“I was getting so bored of everyone’s faces,” Junho went on, ignoring her completely.
“Same five faces every single day.
And now look.
New face.”
Ishaan laughed, setting down a bag of his own clothes.
“Glad I could help.”
Everyone had shown up in normal clothes today, no suits, no talismans, just jeans and hoodies and the occasional pair of house slippers someone had brought along out of habit.
Yuna was already there when he’d first walked in, headphones down around her neck, rearranging his bookshelf by color instead of by anything useful.
“That’s not how I’m going to keep them,” Ishaan said.
“You will once you see how good it looks,” Yuna said, not looking up.
The elevator chimed again, and Baek walked in carrying a folded crib mattress under one arm, a woman beside him holding a small boy’s hand.
“This is my wife,” Baek said, nodding toward her.
“Hana.
And this is Doyoon.”
“Oh, this is your wife?” Ishaan said, surprised in a way he tried not to show too obviously.
“Yeah.
Twelve years now,” Baek said, setting the mattress down against the wall.
Doyoon peered up at Ishaan from behind his mother’s leg, curious and a little shy.
“He’s cute,” Ishaan said, crouching down a little.
Doyoon hid his face and grinned.
Doyoon warmed up fast after that, trailing after each of them in turn, tugging on sleeves and demanding attention with the total confidence of a kid who’d never once been told no by any of these people.
“Sticker Uncle,” Doyoon said, planting himself in front of Junho and holding up both hands.
“That’s me,” Junho said, scooping him up onto one hip without missing a beat in whatever he was doing with the other hand.
“Tablet Noona,” Doyoon said next, pointing at Somi.
“Guilty,” Somi said, not even glancing over from her phone.
“Headphone Noona,” he said to Yuna, who reached over and tugged gently on his ear in response, which seemed to satisfy him completely.
They all pitched in after that, arranging furniture, hanging a few things Ishaan hadn’t even unpacked yet, Hana quietly reorganizing his kitchen cabinets in a way that somehow made more sense than how he’d started doing it himself.
Somewhere in the middle of it, Doyoon reached over and took a bite out of the rice cake Junho had been eating, then wandered off with the rest of it like it had always been his.
“Hey,” Junho said, but he was already laughing, not actually stopping him.
Nobody stopped him, not once, not the whole afternoon.
He took a bite from Somi’s snack bag, then wandered over and helped himself to whatever Baek was drinking.
“Should someone maybe—” Ishaan started.
“Let him do what he does,” Hana said from the kitchen, not even looking over.
“He’ll grow out of it eventually.
Probably.”
The elevator chimed one more time, and Kang Jihoon stepped out, dressed down in a plain black shirt that still somehow looked expensive.
“Sky Uncle!” Doyoon shouted, already sprinting across the room before anyone could stop him, and wrapped both arms around Kang Jihoon’s leg like he was trying to climb it.
Something in Kang Jihoon’s whole posture softened the second the kid hit his leg. Get faster updates on g.com.
He reached down and picked him up without a word, settling him onto one arm like it was the most natural motion in the world.
“Oh my god,” Junho said, watching this happen.
“The king has arrived, and apparently he already has a devoted subject.”
“Don’t,” Kang Jihoon said, though he didn’t put Doyoon down.
“Everyone bow,” Junho said, bowing dramatically himself.
“His highness has graced us with his presence, accompanied by the tiny prince.”
“I own the building, Junho, not the country.”
“Give it time,” Junho said, and Somi snorted from the kitchen.
Kang Jihoon set Doyoon down eventually, though the kid stayed glued to his side, one small hand fisted in his shirt sleeve while Kang Jihoon picked up a box without being asked and started unpacking books onto an empty shelf, ignoring Junho completely, which somehow felt like its own kind of comeback.
Ishaan’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
He stepped toward the balcony to take it, sliding the door shut halfway behind him.
“Amma?
Yeah, I’m okay.” He switched languages without thinking about it, the words falling into a rhythm none of the others in the room could follow.
He told her about the new job, the new place, keeping most of the details vague the way he’d been practicing since the interview.
When he stepped back inside a few minutes later, Doyoon was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring up at him.
“What were you saying?” Doyoon asked.
“That was weird.”
“That was my mother tongue,” Ishaan said, crouching down again.
“I was talking to my mom.”
Doyoon’s face scrunched up in confusion.
“Your mother tongue isn’t Korean?”
Ishaan laughed.
“No, buddy.
I’m not from here originally.
I’m from a different country.”
“Which one?”
“India.
It’s pretty far from here.” He held his hands apart like he was measuring the distance.
“Very, very far.”
Doyoon considered this seriously, then nodded like it made perfect sense now, and went back to playing with the bubble wrap Somi had left on the floor.
By the time the sun went down, someone had ordered enough fried chicken to cover the entire kitchen counter, along with soju, beer, and enough side dishes that Ishaan wasn’t sure where they’d all even fit.
Doyoon made his rounds before anyone even sat down properly, stealing a piece off Junho’s plate, then Somi’s, then reaching up to grab a piece straight off Kang Jihoon’s plate without so much as asking.
“He’s not going to stop just because you’re the boss,” Junho said, watching this happen with obvious delight.
Kang Jihoon just handed him another piece instead of stopping him, which seemed to answer that question completely.
“Alright,” Junho said, cracking open a can and dropping onto the couch like he owned the place too.
“Today we’re explaining the ranks to you.”
“No, thank you,” Ishaan said.
“I don’t think I want to know.”
“Come on, dude, this is supposed to help you loosen up.” Junho gestured at him with the can.
“Standard onboarding stuff.”
“I’ve been loosened up for a while now, thanks.”
“Level E,” Somi said, completely ignoring his protest, “is basically nothing.
Weak presence, doesn’t usually interact with the physical world at all.
Annoying at worst.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Baek said, spooning rice onto Doyoon’s plate.
“I’ve seen Level E’s cause real damage when they cluster.”
“That’s rare, though,” Somi said.
“Rare doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen,” Baek said.
“Level D through C is where things start getting physical,” Junho cut in, talking over both of them.
“Can move objects, sometimes leave marks.
“That was actually a C, borderline B,” Somi corrected.
“I did the readings myself.”
“It was a D,” Junho said.
“I was there.”
“You were drunk,” Somi said.
“I was slightly buzzed, there’s a difference.”
Hana laughed quietly from the kitchen, clearly used to this exact argument happening on some kind of rotation.
“Level B is where it gets dangerous,” Baek said, ignoring the two of them entirely now.
“Physical strength, some awareness, sometimes intelligence enough to plan.
That thing from the office building, the one that stabbed you, that was a B on its own before it merged.”
“And Level A,” Junho said, leaning forward like this was the part he’d been waiting for, “is where you actually need someone like him.” He nodded toward Kang Jihoon.
“Level A’s rare,” Kang Jihoon said, the first thing he’d said in a while.
“Full awareness.
Memory.
Sometimes intention that outlasts the original death by decades.”
“It’s not just memory,” Somi said.
“It’s usually tied to something.
A place, an object, a promise.
They don’t just linger, they anchor themselves to something specific.”
“That’s what I said,” Kang Jihoon said.
“You said memory.
That’s different from anchoring,” Somi said.
“It’s related.”
“Related isn’t the same as correct.”
“Okay, everyone’s an expert now,” Junho said, throwing his hands up, though he was grinning while he said it.
Ishaan sat back against the couch cushions, a piece of fried chicken halfway to his mouth, watching all of them argue over details that clearly mattered a lot to people who’d clearly had this exact fight a hundred times before.
Yuna sat beside him, eating in complete silence, headphones still down around her neck, not contributing a single word to any of it.
“You’re not going to fight with them?” Ishaan asked.
“Nope.” She popped another piece of chicken in her mouth.
“I put my head into that, they’ll choke slam me the second I say something wrong.
I’d rather keep my dignity and stay quiet.”
“Fair enough.
Guess I’ll sit this one out with you, then.”
“Good decision,” she said, not even looking up.
That was when Doyoon climbed straight up into Ishaan’s lap, settled in like he’d claimed the spot permanently, and showed absolutely no signs of moving again.
The argument kept climbing behind them.
Junho kept throwing in comments clearly meant to keep it going longer, grinning the whole time like he was enjoying the chaos more than the actual topic.
“I’m the analyst,” Somi said, louder now.
“I literally read this stuff for a living, I would know.”
“And I’m the one who’s actually fought them,” Baek said, trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to referee the whole thing instead of joining it.
“Nobody’s listening to me either, by the way.”
Hana wandered over with a fresh plate, glancing down at Doyoon settled firmly in Ishaan’s lap.
“Oh, he picked you.” She smiled, setting the plate down in front of him.
“Want more?”
“I mean, apparently I’m not going anywhere for a while,” Ishaan said, and Doyoon nodded seriously in agreement, like that settled the matter completely.
“They fight about this a lot,” Doyoon said, like he was letting Ishaan in on a secret.
“Yeah, I’m starting to see that,” Ishaan said.
Ishaan looked around at all of it, the boxes still half unpacked, the food spread across every flat surface, five people and a kid who’d basically adopted him within one afternoon.
It didn’t feel like the beginning of something dangerous.
For the first time in days, it just felt like a normal, loud, slightly chaotic evening.
He let himself enjoy it anyway.