IGMB 21

Ghost Commotion (1)

A feeling beyond disbelief—pure absurdity—washed over me.

No, I’d only asked for quests about the army.
Not about my own one-sided crush.

Just as my head was getting crowded with thoughts, Assistant Instructor Park Gil-young came back to my barracks.

“Recruit number 45. Are you ready?”
“I’ll be right out, sorry!”

Normally I’d have been fully geared up the moment he arrived, but the sudden quest about Ji-yeon had left me so stunned I lost focus for a moment.

I hurried to get ready and headed toward the admin office, where the recruits who’d scored perfect hits at the live-fire drill were gathering.

There were a few familiar faces among them—and one stood out.

Han Kang-tae. So he got a perfect score too, huh.

Han Kang-tae was the platoon leader recruit, and as someone aiming for top recruit myself, he was the one I had to watch the most.
He seemed to think the same; when he saw me, he flinched slightly.

Recruits who hit perfect at live fire each earned three points for the store system, plus a bonus phone call—sweet rewards bundled together.
It just showed how rare a first-time perfect score really was.

The military is all about clear rewards and punishments.
Do well and you get vacation days; mess up and it’s the discipline unit or the guardhouse.
Some might hate that strict division, but…

I don’t mind.
I was confident I could keep performing well and planned to take every benefit I could.

Following Instructor Park, we headed to the phone-booth area nearby.
Under the deep night sky, a single streetlight shone down on the booths like a beacon of hope—and for recruits, that’s exactly how it felt.

“Five minutes each. Understood?”
“Yes, understood!”

Five minutes still felt terribly short.
I was in the last row, third line.
While the others finished their calls, I debated whether to take on this Ji-yeon quest.

Honestly, there wasn’t much to debate.
Three million won just for attempting the call? Why refuse?

Even if she doesn’t pick up, I get the reward.
Definitely worth a try.

The recruit ahead of me stepped out, eyes red—probably just spoke to parents or a girlfriend.
In training camp, every memory of the people you used to see daily turns into fragments of longing.
Hearing their voices easily brings tears.

Not for me, though.
Maybe age had cooled that side of me, but the thrill of an unfulfilled first love still raced in my chest.

“Next,” Instructor Park signaled.
“Yes, sir!”

I stepped into the booth, exhaling a tense breath.
I already knew no family member would be awake to answer.

Slowly, I dialed Ji-yeon’s number, fingers trembling.

What are you doing, Lee Geum-seong?

I’d weathered rough storms in life, yet here I was, shaking over a single phone call.

After all that hesitation, my finger pressed the final digit.
The dial tone began. My heart pounded like it would burst—
and then a system window appeared before me.

[You have cleared a normal quest.]
[Reward: 3,000,000 won acquired.]

Just as expected—call attempt alone cleared it.
Sweet three million secured.

Should I hang up now?
No. After all that, hanging up felt cowardly.
My rational mind and instinct battled over and over.

Then—

“Hello?”

Ji-yeon’s voice. She’d answered before I could react.

“H-hello?”

“Geum-seong?”

She guessed immediately—not by my voice alone, but because:

“I saw the Caller-X app. It said it was you, and I remembered you called before. Thought it might be you.”
“Ah… I see.”

Even this small recognition of my existence thrilled me.

“But how are you calling? I heard recruits can’t.”
“It’s a reward call. I got a perfect score at the shooting drill.”
“Wow, congrats! You must have talent.”

For an ordinary soldier, “talent” is closer to a curse than a compliment—unless you aim to go career.

“I wish I had some kind of talent…” Her voice softened.

Suddenly, memories of my previous life surfaced:
While I was suffering through basic training, Ji-yeon had been chasing her dream of becoming an actress, auditioning everywhere.
It hadn’t been going well.

“It’s the auditions, isn’t it?”
“Wait—you knew I wanted to act?”
“Not from you directly, but I’d heard.”
“Oh… I see.” Sigh.

“I guess I just don’t have the knack for acting. An older friend told me holding on to an impossible dream is pathetic—that it’s better to face reality and give up early.”

She sounded as if she wanted to quit.
But I couldn’t let that stand.

“No. You can do it. Don’t give up—keep trying.”
“But I don’t have talent. How can I succeed as an actress?”
“Do you know the first requirement for success?”
“Talent?”
“No.”

I answered firmly.

“It’s trying. No one succeeds without even making the attempt. Cause has to precede effect.”
“Well… that’s true, but…”
“Keep challenging yourself. One day an opportunity will come—the chance for success.”

“….”
“Don’t worry, Ji-yeon. You can do it. I guarantee it.”

She gave a small laugh.
“People say you shouldn’t even guarantee things for family.”
“I mean you can trust me that much.”

Another laugh.
“Thanks, Geum-seong.”

Her voice was brighter now. My encouragement had reached her.

“You’re suffering more in the army. For your sake, I’ll keep trying and not give up.”
“Don’t ever forget that resolve.”
“Got it. When you get leave, call me. I’ll treat you to a meal as thanks.”
“Deal.”

With another warm thank-you from her, the short call ended.

Stepping out of the booth, I looked up at the night sky.
Somehow, in those five minutes, it felt like I’d been dreaming the happiest dream.

I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.
If only bedtime would come quickly.

1:50 a.m.

I’d longed for lights-out, but I’d forgotten something important.

Right—outside guard duty tonight.

At 2 a.m., my partner Seo-hwan, Jun, and I headed to the auditorium building beside the barracks.
Recruits aren’t assigned to armory posts or main gates yet; we just practice standing watch in some empty spot.
In other words, this place had zero strategic importance.

Still, an order’s an order.
That’s the soldier’s lot.

But my heavy eyelids didn’t care.
Within five minutes Seo-hwan was already nodding off where he stood.

“Hey, you’ll hurt yourself. Wake up.”
“Huh? Ah—dozed off again. Ugh.”

He slapped his cheeks, trying to stay awake. Jun beside him fought the same battle.

Training is exhausting enough, and now here we were in the freezing winter night, an hour of standing guard at attention—it was brutal.
Even after my return from the future, pulling night guard again was rough.
I kept checking my watch, wishing for the shift to end.

Then, from afar, footsteps approached.
Assistant Instructor Park Gil-young.

“Loyalty! No issues on duty!”
“Good. Keep it up.”

The instructors made regular rounds to be sure we were alert, so hiding and resting wasn’t an option.

As he disappeared, Seo-hwan muttered,
“Does that guy ever sleep?”
“Seriously.”

Back in my previous service days, Park had been called a cyborg—cold-blooded like a tiger instructor. Terrifying to recruits.

Thanks to him, my drowsiness was gone—
until Jun suddenly gasped and called to us urgently.

“G-Geum-seong! Seo-hwan!”
“What now?”
“Th-there…!”

He pointed to the second-floor window of the auditorium.

“A g-ghost, isn’t it? Huh?”