In Korean folklore, there are spirits that hunger for the living, not for flesh or blood,

but for something far more precious.

Your breath.

The mulguishin drift through dark waters, their faces erased by death and time, waiting with

the infinite patience of the drowned.

They remember the weight of water filling their lungs, the moment their last breath escaped

in silver bubbles, toward a surface they would never reach again, and they want it back.

Local fishermen whisper of voices that call from beneath the waves, voices that know

your name, your fears, your deepest guilt, voices that sound exactly like someone you've

lost, someone you failed to save. Come down where it's quiet.

They sing.

Come down where you can finally rest.

But rest isn't what they offer.

When the water spirits call, they're not seeking company in their endless drowning.

They're looking for a trade.

Your life for theirs. Your warm breath for their cold eternity.

Your place in the world of light and air while they crawl from the depths to wear your skin.

Speak with your voice and return to the families, and return to the families who will never know the difference

until it's far too late. The next time you hear your name carried on the wind across dark water,

remember this. The dead don't call for help. They call for replacements.

Welcome back to Freaky Folklore, where ancient terrors meet modern nightmares. I'm your host,

Carmen Carion, and tonight we're diving deep into the dark waters of Korean mythology,

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