TFN C86

Chapter 86

“The authorization’s been granted.”

Ignoring the tension in the guard’s voice, Wonhyo calmly opened his inventory. One by one, he pulled out what he needed and placed the items neatly on the visitation table.

“…Are those dolls?”

Someone asked in bewilderment, but he didn’t bother answering.

He’d long given up on explaining his methods to others—no one outside his craft ever truly understood.

It was always faster to show than to talk. Last time, when he’d acted without warning, the chaos had gone silent in an instant. That was lesson enough.

Wonhyo lined up small plush dolls—dogs, cats, and finally, one pig.

They would serve as spirit vessels, substitutes to contain the extracted remnants.

Human or animal—it didn’t matter. Drawing them into something with a familiar form was always quickest.

Taking his bell in hand, he began to shake it gently, focusing his power while avoiding direct contact with the suspect’s body. His other hand reached toward the talisman stuck to the man’s forehead.

『You are exposed to strong “malicious energy.” (…in progress… 33.9%)』

Even with only his hand extending beyond Cheongmun’s protective cube, the contamination rose rapidly.

He didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he stepped fully outside.

Wonhyo cast a brief glance at Cheongmun, who stood slightly aside—closer to the suspect than to him, just a step or two away.

That quiet stillness of his was somehow the most intimidating of all; anyone who’d fought alongside him in a dungeon or tower would understand.

Wonhyo continued ringing the bell, sending waves of divine energy rippling outward.

The vibrations spread like concentric tides, filling the air—

And then the suspect convulsed, letting out a hoarse, animalistic shriek.

“GraaAAAH—!!”

The detectives tensed, ready to rush in, but Wonhyo raised his hand to stop them.

He tugged the talisman free.

A soft white smoke rose from it, the paper slowly charring to ash.

The crimson script disintegrated into the air, and almost immediately, the man who had been snarling and thrashing like a beast slumped forward, eyes darting wildly as though confused.

Wonhyo reached into his inventory again and pulled out a crinkling bag.

The sound drew the suspect’s attention. His nostrils flared, just slightly.

Wonhyo opened the zippered pouch with his free hand—inside were jerky sticks. High-end dog treats, crafted with some mystical cultivation method from a dungeon shop.

He’d bought them on a whim, told they were irresistible to spirits.

Sure enough, faint shapes—shadows with animal outlines—began to emerge.

They twitched and sniffed, desperate, like starved souls catching the scent of an offering they’d never received in death.

He added a pulse of divine power to his bell.

The shapes grew clearer—like clumps of hazy dust stretching out, uncertain but drawn forward.

With a flick, Wonhyo guided them. The first one—a canine shade—slipped free of the host’s body.

He held up the jerky to the mouth of the dog-shaped doll. The spirit hesitated, sniffed the air, then inched closer before settling into the plush body and biting onto the jerky.

Wonhyo quickly looped a golden cord of linked talismans around its neck like a leash.

Then, as the other canine spirits emerged, he gave each one a chew toy in turn.

Next came the feline spirits—tempted by small packets of churu, the irresistible creamy cat treat.

Cheongmun quietly observed the suspect’s condition.

The man’s pulse, once frighteningly slow, had returned almost to normal as Wonhyo drew out the animal spirits one by one.

The feral snarling, the snapping and biting—all gone.

“…I’d heard the word ‘possession’ before, but I never imagined something would actually come out,” murmured one of the officers.

Each time Wonhyo shook the bell, the guards monitoring the mana sensors looked utterly stunned.

“I’ve never seen him this calm,” said one.

“Same here,” another replied.

Even those who’d been ready to subdue the suspect at any second could only gape now.

“But… aren’t the things coming out a little too small? They look like babies.”

Cheongmun’s gaze drifted to a tiny feline spirit padding across the table toward a cat treat—small enough to fit in his palm.

The dogs and cats alike were miniature, undeveloped. Like newborns.

Even if some breeds had been naturally small in life, the spirits carried a faint innocence that couldn’t be disguised.

Too young to have ever known hatred.

When the last of the feline spirits had been drawn out, Wonhyo looped another golden cord around the cat doll.

“Is it the pig’s turn now?” asked Detective Oh, eyeing the one remaining plush toy.

But no one besides Wonhyo could answer.

Wonhyo carefully moved the dolls containing the separated spirits aside.

Even then, faint translucent threads still linked them back to the host, remnants of long intermingling.

Inside the man’s abdomen, a black, sticky cord still pulsed faintly.

He hesitated. Those lingering fragments should have been soothed and drawn out as well—but something about that last presence felt different.

Like a serpent coiled deep within, it exuded a different energy. That must be the core of the magic he’d sensed earlier—the one registered by the system.

It looked like a pig, but the aura was wrong. Mixed with something else. It had to come out, regardless.

The problem was that it hadn’t reacted at all to the other offerings.

A pig that didn’t eat? Unlikely.

Its patience alone was suspicious.

Narrowing his eyes, Wonhyo stopped ringing the bell. The divine current stilled, pulsing intermittently like scattered sparks.

The suspect’s breathing hitched—then stopped.

A guttural screech split the air.

“K-KWEEEHHH—!!”

The sound was sharp enough to sting his ears. The suspect’s body jerked violently backward as something burst forth.

Wonhyo reacted instantly. “Geup-geup yeo yul-ryeong!”

The talisman beneath the pig doll flared, radiant gold.

A ring of light snapped up, catching the emerging spirit like a trap closing around wild prey.

Bound by the glowing chain, the small, writhing spirit shot toward Cheongmun’s barrier and slammed into it with a harsh crackle.

Wonhyo exhaled shakily, tapping the cube with the back of his hand. Inside, dark energy churned like ink in water.

Across the room, Cheongmun had his arm wrapped around the suspect’s throat, restraining him. Their eyes met.

“Team Leader Lee!”

The detectives rushed forward, alarmed, but Cheongmun released his grip, raising his hands to show he meant no harm.

The suspect gasped raggedly, choking for air, while Cheongmun circled the table toward Wonhyo.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

He had expected this. In fact, he’d set it up—cornered spirits always lashed out.

As Cheongmun dispelled the secondary cube, the murky black shape came fully into view.

Wonhyo sucked in a sharp breath. Cheongmun followed his gaze.

“It resembles a pig,” Cheongmun noted quietly.

“Yes… but not how I imagined.”

It was true. Unlike the other pale, flickering spirits—small and light as dandelion seeds—this one was grotesque. Its body was a rotting shade of blue-black, oozing dark red fluid, and worst of all—it wasn’t one creature.

“It’s mixed,” said Wonhyo grimly. “There’s a snake—and a chicken, too.”

It wasn’t fused naturally but crudely stitched together, mismatched pieces forced into one. The sight alone churned the stomach.

The smell was even worse—like decaying flesh glued together with rot.

Wonhyo forced it into the pig doll and sealed it with a golden cord. They could study its nature later.

『Knowledge recorded in Ten Thousand Laws of Spirits has reacted.』

『Searching for partially matching data…』

While the system processed, Wonhyo drew another talisman from his sleeve.

“This one’s made only with edible materials,” he explained. “Can I use it?”

It was a Spirit-Suppression Talisman, written on rice paper with squid ink.

Cheongmun took it and approached the detectives, who leaned in with the guards to inspect it.

“Do we really have to make him swallow this? What if—”

Before anyone could finish, the suspect convulsed, vomiting a gush of black blood.

The remnants of the spirit’s roots—embedded deep in his organs—had been forcibly torn free.

Behind the expelled pig spirit, a dark, cord-like mass remained attached inside his abdomen, tangled like an umbilical knot—a trace of sorcery.

“I’ll take responsibility,” said Cheongmun firmly.

He pressed the talisman into the suspect’s mouth before anyone could protest.

The rice paper, dry and fragile, softened instantly with blood and saliva.

Holding the man’s jaw shut, Cheongmun forced him to swallow.

The suspect gagged, choking, but the talisman went down.

As it passed through his throat and into his stomach—the path once occupied by the spirit—the air lightened.

“…It’s done,” Wonhyo exhaled, his breath rough but steady.

Cheongmun stepped back, shaking his hands clean, while the detectives hurried to check the suspect’s vitals.

“Mr. Hyun Jemyung?”

“…Yes…”

“You’re conscious?”

For the first time since his arrest, the man spoke like a human being. The detectives exchanged astonished looks; even the guards froze.

“…Call the infirmary,” one of them ordered.

“On it.”

They continued asking him simple questions—name, age, number of fingers held up—and he answered each one correctly.

Then, with a faint, confused voice, he whispered, “…Where… am I?”

That one, no one could bring themselves to answer.