TFN C13

Chapter 13

Clicking the tongue, Wonhyo eyed the civil servant who, despite giving off no such vibe, seemed thoroughly shackled to the state.

“Patriotism runs deep, does it?”

“Other than on payday, count me among the detractors. However, handling this as a personal expense keeps any tie between the Agency and Mr. Yun Wonhyo off the record, which lowers the odds of outside meddling.”

With that, Cheongmun met Wonhyo’s gaze.

“If it’s confirmed to be an original grudge, can assistance be expected in apprehending it?”

Wonhyo wanted to refuse outright.

Not possible right now.

Even holding a conversation like this in this state—was help really being asked? He wanted to grumble, but his voice stuck as if his throat were corked.

The cookie’s effect hadn’t run out.

Those from whom he sometimes borrowed power were blocking him.

Rolling his eyes skyward, Wonhyo nodded—reluctantly.

“Let’s see first.”

An answer that did not refuse.

He had no intention of helping under duress.

At best, he was buying time; perhaps the cursed class-quest penalty could be resolved before the original grudge was caught.

Seemingly satisfied with a non-refusal, Cheongmun tipped his chin.

“Then contact will follow.”

He drew a metal card case from his coat and offered a card.

“Payment will be made even for simple consultation.”

Was he unusually close to the dead?

It was the first time Wonhyo had seen a civil servant so willing to spend out of pocket just to resolve a case, and he paused in mild confusion; still, it had nothing to do with him.

The bond with this person wouldn’t last long, and even this momentary contact would be severed once small accidents accumulated.

“Rest, then.”

Straightening, Cheongmun—already a head taller when Wonhyo was human—looked even bigger now; Wonhyo waved a forepaw, meaning go on, off with you.

Seeing the gesture, Cheongmun smiled and opened the front door.

He’d ghosted in, but at least he left the normal way.

Watching that neat back of the head above, Wonhyo’s throat tickled like a sneeze coming; he pried open tightly sealed lips.

“Before the original grudge showed itself, it said, ‘Shut up.’ Then, while stabbing, ‘If not for you.’”

Just as he stepped over the threshold, Cheongmun turned, body angled.

At the dry look that asked why this hadn’t been said earlier, Wonhyo rolled his eyes.

“Because it’s an original grudge. It appeared before the object of its resentment.”

Meaning they’d been enemies—in all likelihood, resentment long held since life.

To find the culprit, start there.

“We’ll begin by checking those in conflict with the victim.”

If it had been a human assailant, that would have been step one; being a ghost had delayed that line.

With a small nod, Cheongmun closed the door without a sound.

Wonhyo let out a deep breath.

He was mentally exhausted, and after scooping out power with both hands, he wanted to lie down and rest.

“Still, contact Mother and Sister… ah! My phone!”

He remembered seeing the clothes spread on the car when he’d been lifted, but couldn’t recall if they’d been brought in.

Scanning the entry where Cheongmun had stood, he spotted neatly folded clothes just ahead.

He trotted over and pawed through the pile; inside a custom waterproof pouch lay the phone, safe and sound.

Phew—

Exhaling long, Wonhyo fumbled a call to his sister with his forepaw.

The penalty wouldn’t lift until tomorrow night at the earliest; they needed to be informed.

He also wanted to hear what those above—the ones who wanted Cheongmun assisted—were thinking.

“Accumulated ghostly energy has been purified. Transformation into natal animal is now lifted.”

At the system alert, Wonhyo opened his eyes.

Floundering half-awake, he felt a different motion than when on four legs.

The tail, which had refused to obey, was gone.

“At last.”

Human again—though born one to begin with.

It should have been cause for joy, yet shame pricked; he buried his face in the pillow, then lifted it at once.

“—Ugh, blood.”

Being a tiger until just before sleep, he’d gnawed raw, blood-warm meat; the taste of blood lingered in his mouth.

So unbearable he couldn’t press down the urge to sleep more.

Lately, he’d done nothing but craft talismans without rest; subsisting on vegetarian fare made the blood reek even harder to tolerate.

Tottering to the bathroom, he squeezed paste onto a brush and shoved it into his mouth.

A chill ran over him in the bathroom cold; only then did he notice he was naked. He grabbed the thick, oversized pool towel from the wall and wrapped himself up and down in quick swaths.

Still cold.

“How far has the temperature dropped?”

Not January but February—was it always this cold?

With the warmth of a young life, he’d felt nothing; back in an older body, the cold bit deeper.

He scrubbed until the foam made his mouth smart, then ran water to rinse. The toothpaste surged through and, with it, his head cleared as much as his mouth.

Since he’d wetted down, he peered into the mirror with the intent to wash.

A gaunt, shadowed, sorry face looked back—

Hair long enough to cover the neck, tangled from pillow-press; a pallid mask devoid of vitality.

Even with prayer and devotion, he looked like this; direct exposure to ghost qi took a toll, and this time it had been worse.

It wasn’t just ghosts—there was plenty to think on, leaving him unsettled.

“It was strange—the ghostly meter stopped climbing when touching a person.”

Taking advantage of being able to speak, he had contacted Mother and Sister; they’d dashed over that very night, crossing the mountain to his home.

Bundled in pajamas and long, thick winter coats—how startled they must have been.

Swept in like winter wind, they peppered him with questions; he’d had no sleep as they worried over him.

“Was there a separate system notice?”

There hadn’t been; Wonhyo shook his head.

Not awakeners, they worried over possible causes—then unpacked ritual gear from their bundles and, after pondering, took up an obanggi (five-direction banner).

Fingering the flag, they asked a series of similar questions.

They had spent a long time feeling out how this “tie” would affect his path.

“A tie like the sea found in thirst. A bond that feels impossible to swallow or spit out. Yet not an ill-fated one.”

So said the general spirit Mother served.

“It doesn’t seem a bad tie. That they strained to make two who should never touch brush in a single instant suggests a needed knot.”

Said the fairy Sister served.

So it was that one’s hand at work then!

Wonhyo growled, peevish. Sister soothed, patting him.

“If a tie is woven for use, it won’t cause great disaster. For now, we’re told to watch.”

“If so, there is intent. The general says likewise.”

Wonhyo flicked his ears in protest, but lacking words, he had to give up.

Nor could he, in a beast body, borrow power and cast lots; a brief borrowing wouldn’t grant foresight.

Nor could he host a god upon himself; their wavelengths didn’t match.

If he could receive a god, he’d have gone through the descent rite by now.

Though a vessel, nothing could be contained; lest lowly stray spirits take hold, that avenue had been abandoned.

Still—the other’s life might be at risk. He had avoided touch for so long, and yet a tie formed with such a one; neither Mother nor Sister could answer why.

He had no idea what task would be demanded; it felt beyond him.

And they’d said only that no great calamity would occur—not that there’d be no small accidents.

Thus, no contact was wisest.

Born without human bonds, devouring his parents at birth, then filling the family void while injuring Mother and Sister—that was enough of a tie to carry.

Came alone, goes alone.

To extend a tie for the sake of having one meant he’d be the one to bear the emptiness when it ended.

His life had become complicated enough upon awakening; he wanted no new variables sowing confusion.

Retracing the previous night, Wonhyo exhaled deeply.

“Not planning to meet again, and not planning to go out.”

He’d received a request for help, but would delay it as long as possible.

Going out from New Year’s onward only led to ghosts and turning beast; the growth of instinct was also a problem.

Soon after the penalty began, his human self had been firm; now, not at all.

“If it worsens and returning to human becomes hard?”

Sister had worried, saying even the soul takes on a mold, fitting a frame.

Resolving on the week he’d told Cheongmun, Wonhyo turned on the shower.