Markus woke from that nightmare and couldn't sleep the rest of the night. The image of Brzenska chasing him with his own severed head creeped him out. He felt something was wrong, but couldn't pinpoint what.
And that comb - the way it felt on his scalp was bizarre too.
The next day at work, Markus wanted to ask Brzenska about the comb's origin. But when he went to the electrical department, he received shocking news: Brzenska had been dead for over two months, killed in a car accident.
"Dead for over two months?" Markus's head buzzed as if struck by lightning.
How could that be? He'd seen Brzenska just recently at night. It couldn't be true!
Yet despite his disbelief, the facts were clear - Brzenska really had died two months prior. Since they worked in different departments and rarely interacted, Markus simply hadn't heard about his death.
This revelation left Markus reeling. That meant Brzenska had died before Markus encountered the bald woman.
So the bald woman wasn't the ghost - she was just mentally ill. Brzenska was the ghost all along! He'd lied about not seeing the bald woman, making Markus think she was the supernatural one. But why?
And why give him a comb?
The thought of that ghost-given comb made Markus shudder. The bald woman had mentioned combs used on corpses - "dead man's combs." Was this one of them?
Too horrifying. He resolved to burn the comb immediately after work and offer paper money to Brzenska's spirit - though he still couldn't fathom why the ghost was haunting him or giving him the comb.
Too unsettled to work, Markus anxiously waited for his shift to end before rushing home to destroy the comb.
But as he left, he spotted the little girl again - standing by the toy shelf, her chubby face still adorable as she gazed longingly at the toys, eyes glistening with desire.
The bald woman had tried getting a comb from her unsuccessfully before being taken away - likely locked in a mental institution now.
"Little sister, where's your mommy?" Markus asked. He'd seen her twice now without any parent nearby - unusual for a child her age.
The girl stiffened. "Mommy didn't want me anymore. She left with another uncle." Her voice dropped. "Daddy drinks lots and hits me."
Markus shook his head and sighed—another poor child. No wonder she appeared alone in the supermarket. Seeing her longing gaze at the toys, he understood she lacked parental love.
"Uncle will buy you one, okay? Pick whichever you want!" Markus said kindly.
"Okay! Thank you, Uncle Baldy! I want that Snow White cloth doll." The little girl smiled sweetly, pointing at one of the dolls with her tiny finger.
Hearing this name, Markus immediately felt exasperated. At only twenty-five, being called "Uncle Baldy" was irritating, but he didn't take a child's words to heart.
What struck him as odd, though, was how she knew he was bald when he wore a hat.
Puzzled, Markus took the Snow White doll and said he'd pay for it now, telling the girl to wait outside.
But she shook her head. She wanted Markus to burn it for her—otherwise, she couldn't receive it.
Markus froze. What did that mean? Burning things was for the dead, wasn't it?
At that moment, realization struck him like lightning. He stumbled backward, eyes wide with horror.
"Uncle Baldy, what's wrong?" the girl asked innocently.
Markus didn't answer. A terrifying thought occurred to him—he needed to verify if she was a ghost.
He waved his hand, then reached for her shoulder. She didn't dodge but watched him with an amused smile.
Then something horrifying happened—Markus's hand passed right through her body.
He jerked back, face pale with terror.
A ghost. This little girl was a ghost!
"Hehehe, Uncle Baldy, you can't touch me—only I can touch you." She giggled, then grabbed his hand.
Markus shuddered. Her hand was ice-cold and deathly pale. He yanked back with all his strength.
"W-why... are your hands so cold?" he stammered nervously.
The girl pouted, her expression turning sorrowful. She explained that one day, her daddy brought home an aunt who looked mean. The aunt suggested playing hide-and-seek, telling the girl to hide in the refrigerator and not come out until found—or else daddy wouldn't want her either.
Afraid of being abandoned like her mother had done, the girl hid in the fridge and never came out. It was so cold inside—her eyes grew heavy, and eventually, she fell asleep...
Markus understood now. This poor child had died so tragically, so unjustly. What kind of parents would subject their child to such cruelty from that wretched woman?
Hateful as it was, this little girl was still a ghost. Having encountered few ghosts before, Markus naturally felt afraid and kept his distance from her the entire time.
"Little sister, after uncle buys this doll, I'll go outside and burn it for you. Will that be alright?" Markus asked.
"Uh-huh!" The little girl nodded vigorously, smiling adorably. Finally, she instructed, "Uncle, my name is Zibig. When you burn it, call my name."
With that, the little girl gradually turned transparent before disappearing completely.
"How fucking creepy! Why do I keep running into ghosts all day long!" Markus cursed inwardly. He took the doll to checkout, then sneaked out to the deserted alley behind the supermarket. Setting the doll ablaze, he called out "Zibig" as it burned.
After the doll turned to ashes, Markus heard a cute childish giggle behind him and felt a pat on his back.
Strangely, when he turned around, no one was there—just a small comb lying at his feet.
The comb looked tiny and cute, adorned with cartoon patterns, clearly meant for a child.
Could this be that little girl's comb? The very one the bald woman had been searching for?
After some thought, Markus decided not to discard it. Instead, he slipped the ghostly comb into his pocket to take home.
Though the girl was a ghost, she didn't seem malicious in life or death. He didn't understand why she'd left him the comb, but he trusted she meant him no harm.
After work, Markus went straight home. He bought some spirit money and went up to the rooftop to burn it for Brzenska, praying with folded hands that Brzenska wouldn't haunt him anymore.
They barely knew each other and had no grudges—why target him?
But just then, Markus suddenly spotted Brzenska standing on the opposite rooftop.
Brzenska held a blood-red comb, continuously running it through his hair. With each stroke, clumps of hair fell out, leaving his scalp dripping with blood.
"No! Don't! Brzenska, stay away from me—" Terrified out of his wits, Markus collapsed onto the floor.
Brzenska laughed, blood oozing from his mouth. Then—crack!—he twisted his own head off and tossed it at Markus.
He'd promised that if the comb didn't make Markus's hair grow, he'd cut off his head for Markus to use as a stool.
Thud. The head rolled up beside Markus's buttocks. Had Markus stood up, he would have sat right on that horrifying head.
But the shock proved too much. His eyelids fluttered, and he fainted.
When he came to, a face caked in rouge powder stared down at him, examining him from head to toe with eerie intensity—as if studying a corpse.
It was that bald woman! How had she been released? Wasn't she supposed to be in a mental hospital?
Markus shoved her away frantically. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be staying put in the asylum instead of waiting to get hauled back?"
As he spoke, his eyes darted nervously to the opposite rooftop. Only when he confirmed Brzenska was gone—and no severed head remained near him—did he relax slightly.
"Where's the comb? The little girl's comb—give it to me!" The bald woman suddenly pounced on Markus, yanking him up by his collar.