Chapter 19

***

‘So this place takes app orders too. But does staff get a discount?’

It might seem a trivial question, but discounts are a serious matter.

While waiting for the drinks, Wonhyo carefully studied Cheongmun.

In the Special Agency lobby and outside as well, people’s attire was unexpectedly casual for a public institution, yet Cheongmun, in a perfectly unwrinkled three-piece suit, stood out even more.

Since he came out to the scene, it seemed like he was field staff—but maybe not?

Trying to forget being in a crowded place by keeping the mind busy, thoughts rolled off to odd corners.

“Let’s head up.”

Having picked up the drinks, Cheongmun called to him.

Wonhyo nodded and trailed right behind, half a step back from Cheongmun who walked slightly ahead.

After submitting a visitor request, handing over his ID, receiving a one-time access pass, and stepping into the elevator, Wonhyo braced himself to stay clear-headed.

Thinking about it, he could have just handed over the materials—why had he agreed to go upstairs to talk? Regret crept in.

If only those stares in the café had been one or two, he would have stayed put.

No—if instead of hatching a pointless plan to verify by grabbing a hand, he had said he’d email the data and asked for the address, he wouldn’t have needed to come this far, right?

Sigh.

Given it had come to this, he wanted to think positively, but mustering that kind of optimism wasn’t easy.

Rousing the social skills that had hit rock bottom and turned to dust, he steeled himself again.

“37th floor. Doors opening.”

At the elevator’s announcement, Cheongmun moved, and Wonhyo hastily prepared to step out.

He truly did prepare.

But the instant the doors parted, a sense of foreboding seized his spine and pinned him in place.

“Yun Wonhyo-ssi?”

What are you doing, not getting out?

Asked by Cheongmun’s eyes, Wonhyo wanted to say the vibe was bad, that he’d come another time, then shut the doors and head straight back to the first-floor lobby—but his voice wouldn’t come.

Was it the Fairy again? Or the General? Or the Child Spirit?

Whoever it was—this is not the time to clamp this mouth shut, you know?

With the push from those above, as if to say refusal is refusal, urging him to step out, he folded the boiling sense of injustice into his breath and let it dissipate.

When he stepped outside, the doors, held open by Cheongmun’s hand, shut remorselessly.

Then whisked off to another floor.

“Is something wrong?”

“…Not yet.”

At the feeble answer, Cheongmun glanced at the elevator doors, then checked the corridor beyond.

At this busy hour, aside from the bustle of people moving quickly, nothing else stood out.

It was as if Wonhyo had sensed something he hadn’t.

Wonhyo looked that way, too, but nothing was special.

“Is something there?”

Asked by Cheongmun, he clamped his mouth and shook his head.

“May we move?”

With no real choice in that question, Wonhyo parted his lips, closed them again, and scrunched his nose.

Then he sighed and forced his voice.

“Yes.”

He didn’t sound keen on it, but that was the truth—there was nothing more to say.

Seeing this, instead of walking half a step ahead as he had downstairs, Cheongmun matched stride beside him.

So he could react instantly if anything popped.

Stepping out into the corridor, Wonhyo saw a long stretch of transparent glass walls.

A typical government office would have concrete walls; here, the offices inside were in plain view.

An interior a boss would love, he thought.

Do outsiders not roam here? Do they work this publicly?

The unusual interior was enough to make him forget the foreboding that had weighed on him moments earlier.

For someone who felt safe only with opaque walls sealed on all sides, it was, without doubt, an interior he loathed to step into.

“Excuse me.”

Hesitating over a long-shot possibility, he spoke.

“Are the meeting rooms or offices opened up like this, too?”

“Ah.”

Looking from the corridor into the plainly visible office, Cheongmun exhaled.

“It’s an illusion ward. It activates according to visitor level; looks like your simple access pass triggered it.”

His eyes flicked to the pass around Wonhyo’s neck; he shrugged.

Being told it was an illusion for general visitors made Wonhyo more curious.

Why show diligent staff to ordinary citizens like him? Still, he chose not to dig.

“It’s a defensive ward for entrants. Just don’t walk into any office door.”

At the addendum, he took another step back from the glass wall.

They walked a corridor that felt endlessly long; when at last they turned a corner at the far end, a solid steel door appeared.

“Let’s go in.”

Tapping his pass, Cheongmun opened the door.

Inside was, quite literally, an office.

Not a police-station-like place with tightly locked cabinets and a smattering of holding-cell doors, but a government office proper.

Holding the door, inviting him in, Cheongmun watched as Wonhyo gave a slight bow and stepped forward—

“Exposed to powerful ‘ghostly energy.’ (…in progress…58.9%)”

His foot stopped in midair, not reaching the floor.

Frozen where he stood, he drew eyes like a magnet.

“Who’s that?”

Someone sitting near the door saw him and asked.

He did not want to look suspicious.

“Exposed to powerful ‘ghostly energy.’ (…in progress…64.1%)”

But just now, he needed to be suspicious.

Balancing on one foot, he pivoted like a ballerino and turned. There was Cheongmun, guarding the rear.

“Excuse me!”

I think I should run right now.

Words came too fast, caught in his throat; he could neither choke nor speak, only working his mouth and frowning.

Cheongmun reached out immediately.

“Anywhere as long as it’s away from people?”

“Huh? Team Leader Lee?”

Someone called from behind, but without hesitation, Cheongmun scooped Wonhyo up and wheeled back into the corridor.

Then he rushed toward the office that was supposedly under an intruder-deterrent illusion ward.

Startled, Wonhyo screwed his eyes shut, but there was no sense of impact.

Peeking open, he saw that the people who had been busily working behind the glass a moment before were gone; they were walking an empty corridor.

“Exposed to powerful ‘ghostly energy.’ (…in progress…69.4%)”

Why is it still climbing after leaving the office?

Watching the status window redden, he scanned the surroundings.

This was no time to fret about being carried in Cheongmun’s arms.

“Water! I need water.”

“Water will do?”

There was no trace of alarm in the voice of the one holding him. Wonhyo nodded for now.

In one motion, Cheongmun swung into a bathroom and locked the door to keep others out.

With eyes off them, and distance gained, a flicker of relief crossed Wonhyo’s face.

Maybe this much distance is enough?

“…Chief? Team Leader! Are you in here?”

“Exposed to powerful ‘ghostly energy.’ (…in progress…75.3%)

Leave the area.”

Wonhyo went pale.

Cheongmun, seeing a face white as paper, noted the team members’ presence approaching outside—they’d passed down the corridor and were circling back, closer now.

And along with them, Wonhyo’s breath grew rough.

At a loss, restless movements—Cheongmun recalled what he’d witnessed that night.

“Are you about to change into a tiger?”

Now?

At the question, Wonhyo’s pupils wandered without anchor.

As if loath to say it, his lips opened and closed repeatedly; then, eyes shut tight, a muffled voice leaked from beneath the scarf.

“…A dragon.”

Cheongmun’s brow twitched.

Wonhyo, mortified to have said it aloud, couldn’t even hide the flush sweeping his ears; he only clenched his fists tight.

“On a gapjin day, I turn into a dragon. Uh… it’ll be more like a lizard or a carp.”

When ghost-load builds, the penalty triggers a transformation into the natal animal; usually it’s a juvenile state, and since no one knows what a dragon hatchling is, that’s the best guess.

There are many tales of snakes or carp aging into dragons; but snake is already one of the zodiac, so carp was likelier.

At “not a furred animal,” Cheongmun looked quickly around, clearly unsettled.

Immediately available “water” was only the toilet bowl and the tap at the sink.

“A carp, then…”

“Could be a lizard.”

The odds were fifty-fifty, after all.

A mind that normally ran relentlessly pessimistic suddenly kindled a spark of hope.

“Can it be postponed?”

If there were a way, he would have—

Grumbling, Wonhyo lifted his head and checked his posture.

In the chaos, he’d missed that he was still in Cheongmun’s arms.

Then why had the ghost-load climbed? Didn’t it stop last time?

“Is there a method?”

Looking down at him, Cheongmun asked for confirmation.

Wonhyo swallowed.

“Please touch me?” …That sounds wrong.

“Team Leader?”

“Exposed to powerful ‘ghostly energy.’ (…in progress…83.2%)”

A knock sounded at the locked bathroom door—and there was no time left to hesitate.

“Please—take my hand!”

“Pardon?”