TFN C44

Chapter 44

He did indeed want to know whether this matter would end well, whether other problems might arise, and whether there was some task he had yet to do.

But above all else, Cheongmun’s safety came first.

He could not move on to any other question until he received an answer to whether the man who was going to confront a vengeful spirit would remain unharmed.

Shaking the bundle of flags, he drew one out and unfolded it.

No.

The green cloth fluttered as if to declare that answer.

Wonhyo gathered the flags again, shuffled them, and steadied his breathing.

‘Is this a backlash? If so, show me the blue flag.’

No sooner had he spoken the question than a blue banner rippled in his hand.

Biting his lip, Wonhyo realized the time was near when all that had been building through his contact with Cheongmun would break open.

After all, what else could explain that a mere internet post had carried enough force for him to feel Ghost Qi from it?

Cheongmun was surely far away, and the vengeful spirit’s fury was not even aimed at him.

And yet the system’s warning had arrived—

As though it were dragging him toward Cheongmun’s side.

“Seriously… stop this already.”

He muttered up at the ceiling, put the obanggi back in order, and reached for his phone.

[Where is the site?]

Since he had been asked to come at first, even if he left now, his arrival would not be a burden.

“If I’m going, I’d better get ready.”

He had never gone out so many times in a single day, and unless it was for a ritual, he rarely left the house in the afternoon. For a moment laziness pressed down, but this was not the time to complain.

“I shouldn’t have gotten greedy.”

He knew too well that if he got entangled with someone, they could be harmed because of him. He had thought that giving Cheongmun a talisman was enough, that he could leave the rest as his choice, his responsibility.

He should have cut things off cleanly from the start. This was the price for starting something he could not bear.

There was no undoing what had already been done. He could only think of what lay ahead.

Even if he went fully prepared, he would transform into a dog near the vengeful spirit. So he resolved to stay at a distance, call Cheongmun out, and hand him self-defense talismans and exorcism slips to suppress ill-fate.

If he knew Cheongmun’s four pillars of destiny, he could craft more precise talismans, but his crafting rank was too low to replenish them quickly.

At least today was a gyeongsul day, with the White Tiger misfortune avoided—so what could have ended with a stab from a needle would not escalate into being struck down by a blade.

Sweeping up all the ritual materials he had been diligently offering in prayer, he stored them in his inventory, then checked his phone.

He had not often exchanged messages, but Cheongmun usually replied at once. Now, silence.

“Is he too busy traveling to read it?”

Since Cheongmun had said where he was going, perhaps that was the reason. Wonhyo considered what to do, then closed his eyes and began a chant.

Though he had never once used it, the moment he began reciting, the words flowed as if he had repeated them daily.

When he finished, he raised his right hand.

Light, and heavy all at once—

Threads of fate tied to him rose with the motion.

Unlike those who had parents, siblings, schoolmates, and coworkers, he had only a few flimsy strands, and two that scarcely deserved to be called bonds. Among them, he saw the newest thread—half-formed, breaking in places like something incomplete.

Unlike the strong cords that bound him to his mother or sister, this one was loose enough to snap at any time. Wonhyo grasped it.

The cord stretched southwestward, crossing a river.

“Across the river to the west… Yeongdeungpo and Yangcheon? Or is it just a stream, not the main river?”

What lay around there?

After racking his memory, he let go of the thread and picked up his phone.

He opened the map app, searched for the most familiar names, and summoned an unmanned taxi.

The trip would take thirty-seven minutes—forty, accounting for delay. Even if he left at once, he would arrive after Cheongmun.

“Wherever it is, I have to tell him not to go inside.”

As the van rolled to a stop, the team poured out.

Cheongmun gazed at the decrepit mall once called Times Square.

When dozens of high-level dungeons had erupted across Seoul, the building had half-collapsed. Plans for redevelopment had withered, and now the mall was nothing more than a shabby shell, stripped of its old prestige.

The alleys behind it were no better.

Dragged into dungeons and killed, the former residents had left their place to those who needed any roof, no matter how narrow—a maze of tiny one-room flats built like gosiwon cubicles.

Their destination was one of those.

A cramped, shabby one-room village, home to the porters who carried hunters’ loads into the Towers.

“Unit 714, it says here.”

The deputy scowled as he checked the floor plan.

No wonder—

714 meant there were at least fourteen rooms on that one floor.

“The windows don’t add up. If there are no light wells, isn’t this illegal?”

“Illegal, sure. But who comes this far to enforce it? Once construction passes inspection, the fire department looks the other way.”

Everyone glanced over the blueprint, pointing out flaws in the building.

Cheongmun laid a hand on the wall and activated his skill.

The cube could shrink or expand, covering even just part of a building.

“I’ll verify.”

Nam dashed up to confirm whether the cube had wrapped properly around 714.

“It’s about fifty centimeters off to the right.”

“Then there’s an unregistered space.”

Cheongmun adjusted the cube and expanded it.

“Are comments still coming in?”

Having sealed the interior from the outside, he asked.

Even while they traveled, the supposed impostor—or perhaps ghost—kept bickering in real time.

Lee, monitoring Hunternet on his tablet, frowned.

“They’ve gone as far as threats. ‘Where are you? I’ll kill you.’ That was a minute ago. Ah—new reply just now.”

The deputy looked at Cheongmun, knowing exactly how much his cube could sever between inside and out.

Within the cube, the space remained, but it might as well be another world, subject only to Cheongmun’s will.

If he withdrew oxygen, the air would vanish at once.

“I’ve cut every link, yet something’s off.”

His answer sent a chill through the team, who rubbed their arms.

“Shall we open the door first?”

Kim pulled out equipment. Cheongmun looked up at the façade and nodded.

“Let’s.”

Steeling themselves not to flinch, they entered.

The narrow elevator carried them up. Even hardened field agents swallowed dryly as they stepped into the corridor.

“714’s that way.”

Nam, who had gone ahead, pointed. The nearest door from the elevator was 708. As they moved along the square corridor, Lee suddenly halted.

The others fell silent without needing to ask why.

“The poster’s personal information has been exposed.”

He whispered, handing Cheongmun the tablet.

└ He’s from Suwon. Paldalmun-ro 14. I found you. I’ll kill you on the spot.

└ Come at me, bastard! I’ll crack your skull open!

Cheongmun cloaked his team in another cube.

“Do we send people there?”

“Request cooperation from the nearest precinct.”

He drew out the talisman Wonhyo had told him to keep always on his person. It was meant to protect him, but better given to the officers heading to that address.

“Take this—”

But before he could finish, the talisman in his hand burst into flame.

It did not burn hot, but smoke billowed out, spreading like fog through the cube.

Then came the tearing shriek—

A sound all too familiar to Special Bureau agents.

“A dungeon!”

As heat shimmered in the air, everything was sucked into the rift.

[Did four loads of laundry today.]

└ Laundry? In this weather? What floor you live on?

└ Used the laundromat, idiot.

└ Good work.

└ Yeah, still gotta wash one more rug later.

[Why aren’t you eating your burger?]

[Is it illegal to date a minor?]

└ Yes. If you had any sense, you wouldn’t date one.

└ Even if I’m a minor too?

└ Yes. Break up.

└ Fuck off, moron.

[Thinking of singing in a dungeon instead of paying for karaoke. How’s that?]

└ Does singing kill the mobs?

└ No.

└ Then why the hell sing? Everyone’s taught not to draw aggro without detection skills. What’s wrong with people like you?

[Get me off work.]

└ Boss, you shouldn’t be here. You’re the owner, remember?

Words scrolled everywhere his eyes could see.

Noise pixels spread like static, and letters surged upward like an inverted waterfall, sucked into a hole of darkness in the sky.

As the light returned, Cheongmun scanned the dungeon’s interior, checking the cube.

Though it had erupted without warning, the cube held firm—proof that this dungeon was not ranked above his own.

Thanks to it, his team remained together, not scattered into the unknown.