TFN C79

Chapter 79

His uncle, as though unused to drinking properly, chewed noisily on the ice and drained the coffee in moments. Only after downing half the cup did he finally pull out what he had brought.

Wonhyo reached toward the small, box-like device that could easily fit in one hand.

As his fingerprint and body temperature were recognized, a blue light spiraled around it, and then—like a thin veil dropping over them—the outside noise faded away.

It was a portable security jammer. His uncle adjusted the coverage range, then lifted his cup to partially cover his mouth.

Even though the device blocked sound, it didn’t hide lip movements, so they still had to be discreet.

“You heard about this in Jindo, with your mother?”

“Yes. From Granny Park, who lives there.”

His uncle rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“I didn’t realize it was connected to that. You mentioned Dongdaemun too, right?”

Wonhyo nodded.

“Yes, from a woman who worships Mazu-shin, the sea goddess.”

A Chinese maritime deity—an uncommon faith in Korea. His uncle seemed to remember exactly who that was.

“Right, I think I’ve met her once or twice. So, the two cases are connected?”

Wonhyo took a long sip of his drink, the whipped cream collapsing slightly as the blended ice rushed down his throat and chilled him to the core.

“Did you hear anything else?”

“…That’s all. Just that someone was possessed by an animal spirit.”

“I see.”

His uncle pulled a small tablet from his jacket pocket and opened a file, handing it across the table.

Wonhyo took it and began swiping through the photos.

Each image showed a different scene from a different day.

Collapsed victims, blood-smeared rooms—the smell of iron seemed to waft right out of the screen.

There were nine photos in total.

He frowned deeply.

“Nine victims, all from separate incidents?”

His uncle nodded.

“Two in Seoul—including one in Dongdaemun. One in Ansan, one in Seongnam—so that’s two in Gyeonggi Province. One in Pohang, two in Busan, one in Namwon, one in Jeonju. Nine cases in total.”

Rubbing his temple as if warding off a headache, his uncle continued.

“At first, they were all filed as unrelated incidents—each with a perpetrator caught at the scene, case closed. But the AI review team flagged a pattern last week—said all the suspects had displayed identical symptoms. That’s when they ordered a re-analysis.”

Copycat crimes—or something more sinister hidden underneath?

When they compiled the data, the similarities were overwhelming—only age and gender differed.

“The ‘animal spirit’ theory came from Dongdaemun,” his uncle added. “During the initial investigation, a witness near the suspect said something along those lines.”

“In Dongdaemun, I haven’t heard anything specific yet. Granny Park only mentioned that someone who came to learn from her passed along that rumor. She guessed it was an animal spirit based on the symptoms.”

His uncle narrowed his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have known either—it’s outside my jurisdiction. But a friend of mine in the Guro District precinct asked if I could look into it. Said both the victim and suspect in one case seemed… unnatural.”

He tipped the cup, letting the last bits of ice clink into his mouth.

“When the officers arrived, the suspect was eating the victim’s flesh raw.”

Wonhyo winced.

“When they tried to arrest him,” his uncle went on, “he growled—like a wild dog—and dropped to all fours.”

“Then it can’t have been a long-term possession. Oh right, you said these all happened within the last two months.”

Wonhyo lowered his gaze at the confirmation.

Too many things didn’t add up.

Even compared to past possession cases, this was bizarre.

Animal possessions usually involved dogs or cats—simply because those were the animals most intertwined with human life.

Cows, pigs, chickens too—common and familiar.

Like humans, animals that suffered painful deaths could leave behind strong grudges, forming lingering spirits.

But for possession to occur, there had to be a high concentration of such resentful souls—almost like hitting the lowest possible odds in a cruel lottery.

And yet, nine cases in two months?

All of them marked by extreme aggression?

That was beyond improbable.

Wonhyo remembered Cheongmun’s words—“Murders caused by vengeful spirits.”

“Did the victims share any common traits?” he asked.

In last month’s vengeful spirit case, everything had been tied to a post on HunterNet.

He wondered if this one had a similar thread.

His uncle shook his head.

“The perpetrators were easier to categorize—they all showed the same symptoms. The victims, though… not really. The team’s been trying to find patterns, but nothing consistent so far. Actually, if your mother hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have known two of the suspects were connected to shamanic practices.”

He sighed.

“They’re expanding the investigation scope now, but the task force was only just formed. They’re reviewing everything from scratch—zero base.”

Wonhyo stared at the tablet again, studying the victims’ homes.

Sometimes the aura of death bled through in photos—but not here. No lingering presence.

“All these incidents happened at their homes?”

“Oh? Now that you mention it—most of the victims and perpetrators were family.”

Wonhyo blinked.

“Out of nine, six were patricides or matricides. One involved in-laws, one the wife’s parents. The rest—siblings killing each other.”

He paused, thoughtful.

“So the pattern itself is the anomaly. If animal spirits really were behind it, they’d attack indiscriminately. But the closest people nearby—their families—became the targets.”

That explained the eerie intimacy in every scene.

Nine homes, nine glimpses of ordinary life abruptly turned tragic.

“Do you want to meet them?”

“I can?”

His uncle smirked faintly at Wonhyo’s widened eyes.

“I told you, someone asked me to check into it. Originally the request was meant for your mother, but since she sent you instead, I figured there must be a reason. Two detectives from the Dongdaemun violent crimes unit are on the task force—they’re the ones who asked for a shamanic consultation. They want to know if it’s real possession.”

Wonhyo didn’t know anyone at the Dongdaemun precinct, but since they had asked first, he wouldn’t be unwelcome.

“Then please tell them I’ll come.”

“Sure thing. You’ll go today?”

As his uncle reached for his phone, Wonhyo waved his hands quickly.

“Not today.”

If the vengeful spirits here were anything like the one from before—created intentionally—then walking into a strange precinct alone could be dangerous.

He opened his phone to check the almanac.

“Hmm… maybe the weekend? Would that be okay?”

Today was Snake Day—inauspicious.

Tomorrow was Horse Day, no better.

The day after, Sheep Day—more favorable. He chose Saturday.

“Saturday? Got it, I’ll tell them.”

His uncle typed fast, already sending the message.

Wonhyo took another sip of his melting drink, the syrup-sweetness numbing his tongue.

“And… if possible, I’d like to keep it quiet.”

“Quiet?”

“I mean… I’d rather no one know I’m involved.”

Helping the police wasn’t about recognition—it was how he balanced out the misfortunes he’d been born with, a way to accumulate merit through good deeds.

He earned a little money from it, too.

He knew karma couldn’t be repaid in full—but if he could live kindly, maybe he could lessen the burden of the sin he carried from birth, the one that gnawed at the lives of those around him.

Still, he didn’t want to risk exposure again.

He wasn’t a registered Esper, but whether it was his main work or side work, he had done his part.

Being judged for things he couldn’t control—it was exhausting.

Every layer of human prejudice weighed heavier than any spirit ever had.

“I’ll tell them,” his uncle said. “But still—if anything happens, call me immediately or leave the place at once.”

He said it loudly, promising to handle whatever he could.

Wonhyo just smiled faintly.

With so many people involved, there would be red tape and politics—how much could his uncle’s word really do?

But still, knowing someone had his back made him feel safer.

After all, humans were always scarier than ghosts.

His uncle seemed to share that thought. He sighed, shifting slightly—then suddenly froze.

His eyes focused on something far beyond Wonhyo, then snapped back.

What did he see?

There wasn’t any dark aura nearby. Wonhyo tilted his head in confusion.

His uncle reached out, turned off the security jammer, and cleared his throat.

“Ahem. So… you got plans after this?”

“…No?”

Wonhyo frowned, sipping his drink. What plans could he possibly have on a day like this?

He’d planned to stay home making talismans all weekend—if his mother and sister hadn’t shoved him out.

Then his uncle’s eyebrow lifted—and his body leaned sideways, gaze shifting behind Wonhyo.

“Then what’s he doing here?”

Wonhyo turned.

Standing not far away, Cheongmun was watching them with a faint crease between his brows, as though to say “You just noticed?” He raised a hand politely in greeting.

“Oh?”

Caught off guard by the sight of one of the few familiar faces he had in Seoul, Wonhyo scrambled to his feet, startled.