TFN C72

Chapter 72

 

The moment he closed it, another notification appeared immediately.

『Five minutes remaining until the Tower of Hell closes.』

The name of the dungeon wasn’t that important—but the remaining time was.

Wonhyo tried to lift his body, which seemed intent on becoming one with the ground.

He pushed against the floor with his hands, but his elbows buckled, making him stumble forward; if not for that, he might’ve stood up in one go. The situation wasn’t ideal.

He had to find the exit and get out within five minutes.

His body and soul acted as though they’d decided to go their separate ways.

“Let’s go.”

Cheongmun, without hesitation, scooped him up in his arms.

Wonhyo pursed his lips as he watched Cheongmun lift him effortlessly, not a single groan of strain escaping the man’s mouth.

“Do you have anything left to check?”

“…No.”

He only wanted to say he could leave on his own.

When Wonhyo shook his head, Cheongmun dashed forward at a speed that made his ears ache.

Cradled in Cheongmun’s arms, Wonhyo looked back.

The black zelkova tree, reduced to little more than its skeletal trunk, had turned to ash and was scattering into the air.

The foul stench that still lingered in that drifting ash made his nose wrinkle.

In the blink of an eye, Cheongmun had found the exit and reached it. Without even glancing back, he burst out of the dungeon.

As heaven and earth twisted and split, light poured in, and wind rushed through—replacing the dungeon’s heavy, turbid air with a refreshing breeze that enveloped them.

“We’re out.”

“Over here, Team Leader!”

Guided by waiting hands, Wonhyo was seated on a chair, wrapped in a blanket, and handed a warm chocolate drink—likely infused with potion. He sipped it blankly, staring at the vanishing entrance of the dungeon.

The dark red currents swirling at the gate slowed, then faded entirely.

He realized, at last, that the storm had truly passed.

Lifting his gaze, he searched for a familiar face.

Even without the black suit, the man stood out—dressed entirely in black from head to toe.

Cheongmun, who had just sprinted out of the dungeon, still looked immaculate, issuing instructions as he received reports.

Watching him for a while, Wonhyo tilted his head back, staring up at the high ceiling of what seemed like a gymnasium-turned-laboratory.

When he got home, the first thing he’d need to do was wash his blankets.

He’d soiled them so often lately that there were hardly any left to use; he’d have to start doing laundry again.

But at least the penalty was gone—no more turning into a beast, no more torment in his dreams.

He’d have to visit the Special Bureau again tomorrow for a reexamination, but that had nothing to do with Cheongmun’s work, so there was no need for them to contact each other anymore.

With no more wraiths left, there was no reason to see him again.

There were a few things he wanted to look into, but he could handle that on his own.

“I just want to lie down.”

After draining the last drop of the chocolate drink, Wonhyo finally voiced the thing he wanted most.

He longed to wash himself in hot water, change into pajamas, and melt into his electric blanket.

But there was still one last thing to do before that.

Wonhyo drew a sealing charm.

Now that his “Ten Thousand Arts Return to the Origin” skill had been fully unsealed, as long as he had paper and knew the right incantation, he no longer needed to follow those tedious rituals to make talismans.

The process had become so simple it was almost moving.

He scribbled out the charm with a ballpoint pen and stuck it onto his laptop.

It was just a Post-it written with pen, yet it worked better than one drawn on ghost-paper with cinnabar ink.

He imbued the matching talisman with divine power.

As it burned, the remaining traces of malevolent energy dissipated.

“It’s done.”

At his words, the clerk who handled the laptop most often thanked him earnestly.

“This means we can copy the data now, right?”

“…You can do whatever you need. The wraith won’t be coming back. That talisman just purifies the lingering bad energy—like an air purifier, really.”

“Ah, seriously?”

The clerk laughed brightly, though it was hard to tell if it was out of relief at being able to resume his work or because the haunting was finally over.

Watching him, Wonhyo reached into his inventory.

“Here. If you’re still uneasy, pour some of this into a paper cup and leave it around your workspace. It’ll help.”

“Wow! Thank you so much.”

It was just a pack of supermarket salt, but the man’s eyes shone as if he’d been handed a divine relic.

He’d given him salt before when they first met, but the reaction hadn’t been nearly this dramatic.

Suppressing the urge to act coy, Wonhyo turned his head—only to meet Cheongmun’s gaze.

“I’ll see you home.”

“Ah, it’s really fine this time.”

Wonhyo refused immediately, jerking his chin toward Team One.

“You’ve got a lot to deal with, don’t you?”

Last time a dungeon closed, it had taken hours to handle the aftermath. This time wouldn’t be much different.

Even if the wraith was gone, the living still had their own laws to follow—and that meant cleanup.

“I’ll just take a taxi.”

He blinked drowsily, fighting back a yawn.

Cheongmun glanced briefly into the air as though confirming something, then nodded.

After exchanging his ID and visitor’s pass, Wonhyo stepped outside and hailed a driverless taxi.

One arrived almost instantly. As he waited, he rolled his stiff neck and let out a short chuckle.

The car pulled up, and he climbed in. From his inventory, he quietly took out another talisman.

“I paid for this ride, you know. Why are you freeloading?”

The ghost sitting in the back twisted its head toward him.

Its face was torn open, bone exposed, with maggots writhing near its temple. From its hollow eye sockets, tiny snakes flicked their tongues with a hissing sound.

[Estimated time to destination: 21 minutes. Please fasten your seatbelt.]

When the AI voice urged him, he buckled up; the doors locked with a click.

He stared directly at the ghost glaring back at him—and tossed the talisman.

A soundless scream echoed inside the car.

Wonhyo gazed into the ghost’s pitch-black throat—deep and endless as an abyss.

No wonder it made no sound; its tongue was rotten, or perhaps torn out.

He took out his bell and shook it gently.

“I’d like to know your name and date of birth. Shame you can’t talk.”

In less than thirty minutes—the time it took to get home—he exorcised the ghost and sent it to the afterlife. By the time the taxi stopped, he was on the verge of collapsing.

As he stepped into his apartment, the cool air met him like a sigh.

He went straight to the bathroom.

Waiting for the boiler to heat the water, he stripped off his clothes and plunged his head under the hot stream.

The stale odor clinging to his body since morning finally began to fade.

He washed his hair, scrubbed himself with soap, and towel-dried before putting on fresh clothes.

On the floor lay a bare mattress with no blanket.

He sighed, but pulled out the sleeping bag he used during temple stays.

The ten-thousand-won sleeping bag from an online store crackled as he spread it open, forming a neat rectangle.

It wasn’t an 800-fill goose-down model, but it was warm enough for tonight.

He grabbed some paper from his inventory, scribbled charms with a pen, and scattered them around the bed to ward off any lingering spirits.

That should keep him from waking up to ghosts.

Crawling into the sleeping bag, he squirmed around before pulling one arm free to grab his phone.

He briefly scrolled through HunterNet—once a chaotic mess thanks to the wraith—and then checked HunterMarket, where new comments and restock requests had been posted.

“If they’re S-rank, the D-rank talismans won’t cut it. I’ll have to adjust the price.”

Would it not sell if it was too expensive?

Feeling a rare sense of peace, he closed his eyes.

He couldn’t remember when he set his phone down, but he knew that the moment he shut his eyes, he’d fallen asleep instantly.

‘Hhn… ah—hah!’

Wonhyo felt his body moving, swaying at another’s will.

He opened his eyes to see who was touching him.

Golden dust seemed to shimmer in the man’s irises as he looked down, his gaze twisting with heat.

A breath brushed his ear, spreading along its curve.

A chill ran down his spine, but soon it was chased away by waves of pleasure.

Lips descended to his neck, biting softly.

Wonhyo tilted his head back, offering his throat.

The man didn’t hesitate; their lips met again.

Where the man’s mouth had pressed, red marks bloomed like petals.

His lips traveled lower—followed by large, firm hands.

Wonhyo’s breath grew ragged.

Somehow, it felt good.

Pressed against the man’s chest, he could feel the hidden heat within.

The hand that had caressed his chest slipped lower.

A shudder ran through him as slick fingers brushed against the sensitive tip, his body trembling with each touch.

His aroused sex pulsed, begging for more, though his shoulders curled in embarrassment.

The man didn’t stop.

His palm was hot enough to burn.

The fingers—usually hidden beneath black half-palm gloves—now wrapped around Wonhyo’s shaft, stroking up and down.

The friction of skin on skin sent shocks through him.

He had never touched himself so fervently before. The sensation was similar yet far more overwhelming, his mind hazed with ecstasy.

The man’s hand moved in rhythm with the pounding of his heart.

“Ah—ahh!”

When bare skin met bare skin, sparks flew.

Heat spread like wildfire through his body; Wonhyo moaned helplessly.

Each breath hitched, every whimper swallowed between gasps.

Through the haze, he reached out to touch the man’s face—his left eye, specifically.

What met his fingers was firm and warm, yet smooth.

As he brushed against the sharp tip of a horn, the man smiled and flipped him over.

The world spun.

Kneeling, legs spread wide around the man’s waist, Wonhyo braced himself on the floor and raised his upper body.

At that moment, a tongue pressed against his entrance.

“Hhn!”

He lurched forward, nearly collapsing.

When he lifted his hips higher, the man’s low laugh rumbled behind him.

Between scattered breaths, the tongue teased him again.

“Aah—”

He tried to crawl away, but the man’s large hand gripped his waist firmly, refusing to let him go.