Chapter 2

 

Check the end for all the meanings

“Actually… this is the first time I’m saying this on broadcast.”

This development hadn’t been in the original script.

All three pairs of eyes turned toward Mugyeong at once. Maeari’s unfocused gaze, which had been busy searching for a decent edit point, suddenly sharpened with interest. Even Cheongun’s cold black eyes were fixed on Mugyeong for the first time today.

“After that incident, whenever there’s thunder and lightning, I start feeling weak, almost like I’ve come down with a fever.”

“Then do you start seeing ghosts again?”

“It’s not that I see ghosts again. But whenever it rains and thunders, my whole body aches so badly I can barely move. I even got examined at a university hospital thinking it might be some illness, but medically they said there was nothing wrong.”

The beauty YouTuber carefully cut in.

“Could it possibly be… some kind of spirit sickness?”

“Honestly, I’ve been too scared to visit a fortune teller. I want to continue my idol career, but what if they tell me I need to accept the spirits?”

“Oh no, that absolutely won’t do.”

“But about a week ago, my great-grandmother appeared in my dream again for the first time in years. Usually she never spoke in those dreams, but this time she finally did.”

“Only until twenty-five. Until then, I’ll somehow keep protecting you with my own strength, but after that… I don’t think I can anymore. Quickly go find a mansin.”

“Wait— but Mugyeong-nim, aren’t you twenty-five this year?”

Maeari stared at him in shock.

“That’s right.”

“Then if that dream was real… does that mean you have to receive spirit initiation this year?”

At Maeari’s question, Mugyeong lowered his gaze while trying to appear calm.

“I want to keep being an idol, and I don’t want to worry our fans, so I’ve never talked about this publicly before… but yes. I think there’s a possibility that could happen.”

Maeari turned toward Cheongun.

“Cheongun-nim, since you’re a shaman, you’d probably know best. In Mugyeong-nim’s case, does he absolutely have to accept the spirits?”

Cheongun finally opened his mouth.

Even after staying silent for so long, his voice was smooth and heavy like a deep lake.

“There is technically another method. When his great-grandmother told him to find a mansin, she probably meant he should undergo a Nureum-gut.”

“Then if he performs this Nureum-gut, does he not have to receive spirit initiation?”

“If it succeeds.”

Cheongun smiled faintly.

“But Nureum-gut is extremely difficult. Humans can’t truly suppress a god’s will. At best, it’s just pleading for a little more time and trying to soothe the spirits. Ultimately, the result depends entirely on whether the spirits permit it.”

He continued calmly,

“There’s even a saying that a Nureum-gut can easily turn into a Naerim-gut instead. And in the worst cases, if the spirits become enraged, the shaman performing the ritual can also suffer divine punishment.”

“What happens if the spirits get angry?”

“They may lose their spiritual power for a time and become unable to perform readings. Sometimes their bodies are severely injured. And in the worst-case scenario…”

At that point, Cheongun turned to look directly at Mugyeong.

His dark eyes gleamed.

Even in the middle of summer, Mugyeong felt a chill crawl through his bones.

“They can die.”

“…Then would the person receiving the ritual die too?”

“If the shaman ends up like that, then naturally the person receiving the ritual won’t remain unharmed either. Which is why any proper shaman would never casually recommend a Nureum-gut.”

“I see…”

Then Cheongun looked at Mugyeong and smiled meaningfully.

“By the way, Mugyeong-nim, after hearing your story, I think you’ve hidden one very important detail from me. I’ll ask you about it privately after the broadcast.”

Maeari immediately became excited.

“Wait wait wait, did the spirits tell you something just now? What is it? I’m seriously curious! Can’t you tell us too?”

“It seems related to Mugyeong-nim’s personal matters, so I don’t think it’s appropriate to discuss on broadcast.”

Cheongun’s smile remained polite, but his eyes were ice-cold.

“So Mugyeong-nim, please wait for me in the waiting room after filming ends.”

Suddenly Mugyeong felt his stomach twist and all the blood drain from his face.

He was an ordinary person with zero spiritual sensitivity and even less situational awareness, but even he could tell one thing clearly:

He had seriously fucked up with this shaman.

He needed to run.

After that, Mugyeong remembered almost nothing from the remainder of filming.

He wasn’t even worried about getting edited out anymore. The only thing occupying his mind was how to escape as quickly as possible.

Cheongun clearly knew something Mugyeong didn’t.

And whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t good for him.

As soon as the slate clapped to signal the end of filming, Mugyeong barely muttered his goodbyes before bolting out of the studio like an arrow.

When he glanced back, Cheongun seemed occupied with an additional interview by the staff.

The moment Mugyeong reached the waiting room, he snatched up his bag and shoved his few belongings inside. He needed to call a taxi.

But strangely enough, the phone he distinctly remembered leaving on the table was gone.

His breathing quickened.

“My phone… where did I put it? I swear I left it on the table…”

At that moment, the waiting room door burst open.

“Looking for this?”

Smiling pleasantly, Cheongun held up Mugyeong’s phone.

Why did he have that?

Did he predict Mugyeong would run and take it beforehand?

Cheongun closed the door behind him and slowly walked toward Mugyeong step by step.

Earlier, Mugyeong had thought he looked like a model.

Now his pale face resembled a grim reaper.

“W-why are you doing this to me?”

Mugyeong unconsciously stuttered as he backed away little by little.

But the waiting room was cramped, and he quickly hit the wall behind him. Cold air seeped mercilessly from the underground concrete against his back.

Only about a handspan remained between them now.

The breath leaving Cheongun’s lips brushed against Mugyeong’s lower lip.

Under normal circumstances, it might have been romantic.

But there wasn’t a trace of warmth in those black eyes.

In a trembling voice, Mugyeong desperately attempted one final defense.

“I-if I did something wrong, shouldn’t we solve this through conversation—”

“Why are you trembling so much?”

Cheongun smiled softly.

“I’m just happy to see you again after so long, hyung.”

Hyung?

Mugyeong’s mind blanked.

Did he have a junior like this at his company? No way. He would’ve remembered someone this handsome. Had they met through internet broadcasting? That didn’t seem right either.

Mugyeong might’ve lacked awareness, but even he wouldn’t forget becoming close enough with a face like this to call each other hyung and dongsaeng.

“Geosan High School infirmary. Don’t remember? That’s kind of hurtful.”

Cheongun’s lips still curved in a smile, but his gaze was terrifying enough to make flesh crawl.

That was definitely the face of someone who’d chop a person apart over hurt feelings.

Inside Mugyeong’s brain, the few surviving neurons desperately fought to connect.

A junior from Geosan High?

But all the boys from his all-male high school had looked like unfinished gorillas or marmots.

Nobody looked like this.

…Wait.

Thinking back, there had been exactly one exception.

Not handsome so much as tragically pretty, like a rain-soaked lily of the valley.

“…Unho? Wait, are you Je Unho?”

Apparently that was the correct answer.

For the first time today, the coldness vanished completely from Cheongun’s face as he smiled brightly enough to show his teeth.

The frozen atmosphere of the room seemed to warm slightly.

Ah. Blinding.

Mugyeong thought blankly.

“Yes. It’s been a while.”

“Ah…”

For a moment, Mugyeong forgot how to speak.

He felt as though he’d seen a ghost.

Back when he’d desperately searched for Je Unho, the boy had vanished without a trace.

And now they were meeting again here of all places.

“How could you not recognize me? I knew it was you the moment I saw the broadcast.”

“Uh… sorry.”

Mugyeong genuinely had nothing to say.

After all, he’d never imagined that the delicate, fragile-looking junior he remembered would grow into… this.

Looking closely, Unho’s pretty eyes, nose, and lips still resembled his high school self. But his height, build, and sharper facial lines had changed so drastically that it was difficult to recognize him as the same person.

“I really enjoyed your ghost story earlier.”

Cheongun smiled.

“But it sounded strangely familiar.”

Ah.

Cold sweat began running down Mugyeong’s back again.

“A person who’s seen ghosts since childhood. Whose deceased great-grandmother was a mansin. Whose entire class ended up greeting that grandmother during a thunderstorm.”

Cheongun tilted his head slightly.

“Were there two people like that at Geosan High besides me?”

“W-wait. I can explain everything.”

Mugyeong hurriedly opened his mouth.

But Unho’s response was icy.

“What explanation is needed for stealing someone else’s story and pretending it was your own?”

That was the problem.

Unho wasn’t wrong.

Not even a little.

Mugyeong desperately squeezed his brain for excuses, but his remaining neurons finally declared a strike under the unbearable working conditions.

So he started blurting out nonsense like a broken machine.

“L-life as an idol is really hard, okay? Sponsors? Stuff like that doesn’t even get offered to people like us. But then I suddenly got this one good broadcasting opportunity, and before I knew it, I’d told your story. O-of course that doesn’t mean what I did was justified, but…”

He’d only just started getting attention.

Was he really about to crash back down already?

Entertainment headlines flashed before his eyes.

“Idol A suffering from Ripley Syndrome? Stole junior’s ghost story and falsely claimed it as his own on broadcast!”

“Do you even understand what you did wrong?”

“Yes, I’m really sorry, Unho. I committed a terrible sin.”

“No. I don’t think you understand at all.”

Unho’s expression darkened.

“That’s why you kept spreading it around everywhere. Those stories I told you… you were the first person outside my family I ever shared them with.”

“….”

“Because of my spirit sickness, I didn’t have any friends until middle school. I only started living somewhat normally after entering high school. Before that, there was nobody I wanted to tell my secrets to. Nobody I wanted to understand me.”

Unho’s face twisted painfully.

“But with you… I wanted you to understand me. That’s why I told you even the secret I most wanted to hide.”

His voice shook faintly.

I kept wondering what if you thought I was insane after hearing it.

What if you distanced yourself from me.

Still… I thought maybe you would understand me.

“I thought about it over and over before carefully telling you those things. So how could you expose them to strangers while pretending they were your own experiences?”

His dark eyes trembled.

“To you, was it really something that meaningless?”

“No. I never thought that.”

Guilt stabbed sharply through Mugyeong’s chest.

The conversations he’d shared with Unho in high school had also been precious memories to him.

After Unho suddenly transferred schools and disappeared, Mugyeong had spent a long time trying to find him.

But eventually all contact vanished, and as years passed, Unho gradually faded from his memory.

Meanwhile, the weight crushing Mugyeong’s life only became heavier and more vivid.

And so, impulsively, he’d started telling Unho’s story as if it were his own.

People reacted well to it.

And once he’d lied once, lying a second or third time became easy.

“Apologize.”

“If it’ll ease your feelings, I’ll apologize as much as you want. I’m sorry.”

“Not to me.”

Unho stared at him coldly.

“Make a public apology. Say it wasn’t your story but your high school junior’s, and that you lied because making a living was hard.”

Mugyeong’s face turned deathly pale.

Notes

• 신병 (Spirit Sickness) → A condition in Korean shamanism where someone destined to become a shaman suffers physical and psychological torment before accepting the spirits.
• 만신 (Mansin) → A highly powerful or senior shaman.
• 누름굿 (Nureum-gut) → A ritual intended to suppress or delay spirit possession/destiny.
• 내림굿 (Naerim-gut) → The initiation ritual through which someone formally becomes a shaman.