TFN C78

Chapter 78

—“Ah, really? That’s good news. But, um, I already have an appointment this afternoon.”

Wonhyo paused somewhere as he answered. Judging by the sound of his footsteps, he must have been heading toward the refrigerator for a drink of water.

When he mentioned it was an outing, Cheongmun lifted an eyebrow.

“Today, you mean?”

He lowered his phone and opened the calendar app on his home screen.

Each box was crowded with his intricate schedule—and below them, little animal icons had been added, something that hadn’t been there before.

“It’s Snake Day, isn’t it?” he remarked.

—“Ah, yeah. It sounds weird hearing someone else say it out loud, though.”

Wonhyo spoke like someone who really did know that today’s date had a snake drawn beneath it.

“The temperature won’t drop below freezing,” Cheongmun noted, closing the calendar and checking his weather app. “But still—don’t you think it’s too cold to be outside?”

The forecast showed a gloomy, overcast day. No rain, but somber and gray.

—“It’s risky, but it’ll be better than yesterday. My uncle said today’s the only time he’s free.”

Cheongmun frowned slightly, listening. If Wonhyo was willing to brave the cold, there must be a reason.

“Your uncle—do you mean Inspector Park from the Mapo precinct?”

He recalled the detective who ran investigations there.

—“Yes.”

“What’s the matter?”

Over the past month, Cheongmun had learned bits and pieces about Wonhyo’s work. He didn’t fully understand the prayer rituals or training practices, but he knew that Wonhyo was sometimes called in by the police for consultation on special cases.

Mostly in Mapo, occasionally elsewhere through referrals.

Just like when he’d helped the Special Bureau during the vengeful spirit incident.

—“Ah, no. He didn’t call me in this time—it’s actually me who needs to see him. Oh, right! I was planning to ask you about it, Team Leader…”

—“You mean… an animal spirit?”

The low, rough voice came through the phone. Wonhyo nodded automatically, even though the other couldn’t see him. It was a habit.

“Yes. I heard about it while I was in Jindo, but I don’t know much. Yesterday was Gyeongjin Ilju day, so I couldn’t go out—I planned to meet today instead.”

He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.

The thin crackle of plastic and the cool air brought him back to alertness.

Unscrewing the cap, he took a gulp—the cold water washed away the heaviness in his chest.

His stomach, which had been grumbling for food, quieted after the chill hit. It would rumble again soon enough, but for now, the silence was welcome while on the phone.

—“There have been two cases in Seoul alone?”

Wonhyo tilted his head slightly, listening to the echo of footsteps through the call. The background noise had changed—Cheongmun must have moved from a quiet area to somewhere busier.

—“Hold on a moment.”

“Sure.”

He answered briefly, then reopened the fridge. The cold air brushed over his skin again.

He checked the side dishes his mother and sister had packed for him, then took out a fillet of fish from the freezer.

Meanwhile, Cheongmun’s voice drifted in and out—he seemed to be receiving a report from someone nearby.

Wonhyo set the fish in the microwave to thaw and reached between the clean dishes for his teapot.

He had some tea leaves left, a gift from Granny Park a few days ago—plenty to brew generously.

—“Mr. Yoon Wonhyo.”

“I’m listening.”

He confirmed he was still on the line.

—“Sorry to keep you waiting. I checked what you mentioned, but there’s no record of any such case filed with us.”

“Really?”

Wonhyo frowned, absently tapping his lower lip. Why had he instinctively wanted to double-check it with Cheongmun?

—“It looks like only civilians were involved. The assailant wasn’t an awakened individual, so we must have only heard about it secondhand.”

“I see.”

That made sense. The Special Bureau only handled crimes involving Awakened persons—if neither victim nor culprit was one, it wouldn’t fall under their jurisdiction.

—“Still, animal spirits, you said…”

Cheongmun’s tone trailed off.

—“I’m not very familiar with that side of things. Tell me, would an animal spirit be classified the same as a vengeful ghost?”

“Oh!”

Wonhyo suddenly exclaimed.

—“Mr. Yoon?”

“Ah, no, sorry. Wait a second—you’re right. That’s it.”

His mind sparked with realization. He shook his head as if to clear the static in his thoughts.

“Yes—it’s the same as a vengeful ghost.”

When a person died, their spirit split into hun and baek—the conscious and the vital.

Traces of powerful emotions left behind became thought-forms—most often born of grief, hatred, or obsession.

Those were called ghosts, spirits, or wandering souls.

But if that lingering spirit contained deep malice or resentment, it became a vengeful ghost.

And when it began to harm the living—it turned into an evil ghost.

Animal spirits were different, yet similar.

Unlike humans, most animals naturally passed into the afterlife, but the ones that didn’t were twisted by instinct and rage—more feral than human vengeful ghosts.

So people called them collectively animal spirits—but in essence, they were both vengeful and malevolent.

—“Then you’re saying there have been two or more murder cases caused by vengeful spirits.”

The clear tone hit Wonhyo’s ear, and he swallowed dryly.

He’d thought of animal possessions as not uncommon—but reframing it in those words made the image brutally vivid.

“Could it be a cursed item?” he asked quietly.

—“Hard to say. We’ll have to investigate. But you should be careful. It could get dangerous.”

Wonhyo thought of his mother and sister’s words—that seeing his uncle might be the fastest way to resolve things.

Maybe the gods above were prodding his side again, sending him off on another errand.

“I’ll be careful,” he said. “But it’s not something I can avoid, even if I wanted to. I’ll have to meet him.”

He sighed deeply without meaning to.

Beeep!

A car horn blared. Wonhyo turned his head.

A vehicle exiting the alley too quickly had startled a departing bus, which jolted to a halt.

Fortunately, it wasn’t serious. People glanced briefly, then continued on their way.

So did he.

The neighborhood was lined with apartment complexes—there was a police station nearby, and even a courthouse. The air smelled faintly metallic, as though the sharpness of law and punishment hung in the atmosphere.

People’s own spiritual energy seemed to press down on that heaviness, keeping it in check.

Still, with so many apartment blocks, cafés were plentiful, and choosing a meeting spot hadn’t been hard.

Wonhyo stepped into a franchise café and scanned the interior.

It was busier than he’d expected for such an in-between hour. Inside, he found a corner seat with a low table—so low he’d have to bow almost ninety degrees to drink comfortably.

Unpopular, it seemed—perfectly empty. He claimed it.

He could order from his phone, but first, he needed to check where his uncle was.

[I’ve arrived.]

The message went unread. Still busy, probably.

He shrugged off his coat and draped it over the chair, flipping through the menu with a lighter feeling.

He didn’t want another Americano—he wanted something indulgent, sugary, creamy.

All he’d done since waking up was talk to Cheongmun, eat breakfast, and shower—and yet he already felt half drained.

He scrolled through the seasonal menu and ordered a drink with the same calorie count as a full meal.

Then he sent another message:

[I ordered a drink. Should I get something for you too?]

The reply came almost immediately.

[- Six extra espresso shots. Iced Americano.]

Wonhyo blinked. Six shots? At that point, was it even coffee anymore? But he knew the type—someone who said anything diluted with water or ice was “already ruined.” He smiled faintly and added the customization anyway.

“Mom doesn’t care about anything else, but she’s picky about coffee,” he murmured.

She’d always said she’d rather add milk than water, and only drank lattes—he still didn’t quite understand why.

After confirming the order, he glanced around the café.

The energy here was clean—sunlight poured in, the air wasn’t damp, and though it was busy, there were no shadows clinging to anyone.

“Usually there are three or four hanging around,” he said under his breath.

The first time he’d come to help his uncle, he’d ended up smacking the lingering spirits that refused to leave—so many that they’d practically lined up to be exorcised.

After a few encounters like that, they’d finally stopped appearing here.

There had been one man, though—peculiar. His spirit had sunk so deep it was like staring into a bottomless swamp, entangled in the underworld’s vines.

Wonhyo had seen his fate so clearly that he’d helped him, though the man never realized it.

Lost in that memory, he didn’t notice the notification until his phone buzzed: his drink was ready.

He stood and walked toward the counter.

“Wonhyo.”

“Oh—Uncle, you’re here?”

Spotting him near the register, Wonhyo smiled and waved.

His uncle, wearing a rugged jacket, looked exhausted. Wonhyo gestured toward the back.

“There’s a low table in the corner, black coat on the chair. I’ll grab the drinks and join you.”

“That one?”

“Yeah.”

Recognizing the only empty seat in the café, his uncle nodded and went ahead.

Wonhyo picked up his drinks when the barista called his name.

“Jeju matcha shake, extra chocolate drizzle, hazelnut and mocha syrup, with whole java chips—correct?”

“Yes.”

The air filled with a thick, sweet scent—sugar in its purest form.

He grabbed the coffee next.

Balancing both—the sugary heaven and the liquid punishment—he headed to their table.

His uncle sat slumped in the chair, half-dozing, but straightened as Wonhyo approached.

“Here you go.”

Wonhyo handed him the coffee first.

His uncle stirred the ice and took a long gulp. “Ahh… that’s better.”

Wonhyo quietly fanned away the faint shadow of negativity that clung to the man’s breath, then pulled out a small bottle of sanitizer and cleaned his hands.

“Busy week?” he asked.

“Don’t even start,” his uncle groaned. “It never ends. I can’t even remember the last time I slept in my own bed. At this rate, I should just start paying rent for the night-duty office.”