TFN C14

Chapter 14

[What’s the news? No, seriously, what on earth is going on?]

The cause of death for 5252 still hasn’t been announced? Is it really a ghost or what!

└Yes, next ghost.

└No;;; Come on, do you really think it’s a ghost? It has to be a dungeon break.

└For real, lol.

└That apartment is low-ranked anyway, so who knows.

└But isn’t that apartment about the Seoul average? Do you think it could actually collapse?

└Damn it, if it’s really a ghost, should I get some holy consecration items?

└Farm holy water at the cathedral, let’s go.

└But if the question came from ㅌㅅㅊ¹, then isn’t it ㅌㄹ²?

└???: If I pretend to be a ghost and kill people, they won’t catch me!! (Caught)

└And still no announcement on what kind of skill it was? Could really be a ghost, you know?

[An assassination inside a room?]

Just finish the investigation quickly and announce it already! If it’s a terrorist group’s work, shut down the airports first!!

└Seriously, permanent deportation for terrorists already! What a waste of taxes, they still haven’t caught them, what are they doing?

└The Special Agency³ should just release the criminal’s information!

└If it was an assassination skill, scanning it with a mana resonance device should show it immediately. How could it be delayed this long? Makes you wonder what’s going on.

└What’s going on, my ass. Absolutely nothing.

└It’s just because they’re incompetent, that’s why they’re late, damn it.

Wonhyo almost staggered back as he opened the Hunter Net.

They had said it was broadcasted through the internet, and sure enough, threads were plastered everywhere with people sticking in their opinions.

He had wanted to simply enter the market linked to the Hunter Net, but somehow ended up scrolling through posts backward.

[Can we even trust the news that came out?]

Censorship seems too strict; feels like they’re withholding the info.

└Don’t trust the news! Only trust the Hunter Net!

└It’s a villain’s doing, one hundred percent.

└My cousin’s sister-in-law’s eighth cousin’s uncle is a contractor⁴, and he said the criminal is a monster, but they don’t know what type, so they couldn’t make an announcement.

└LOL yeah, just a ghost.

Annoyed by all the people sticking their mouths in, Wonhyo closed the message board, skipped past it, and opened the Market.

The problem was, even the open chat in the Market—which was supposed to be mainly for item trading—was buzzing with conversations about this incident.

• Doesn’t it depend on which jurisdiction is handling it?

• Is that even important?

• If it’s police, then it’s something human did. If it’s the Special Agency, then it’s either a villain or a monster.

• And if it’s a ghost?

• Paladin corps?

• Paladin corps? Do we even have that in our country?

• Rome has it.

• You crazy bastard.

• But seriously, if it’s a ghost, then who handles it?

“Unfortunately, shamans handle it,” Wonhyo muttered to himself.

He shook his wet hair with a towel and glanced back at the still-open Market window.

In the meanwhile, the conversation seemed to have flowed elsewhere, and now only requests from awakened producers looking for direct trades of materials scrolled repeatedly.

Buying materials. Mandrake roots 50, Dungeon Ginseng⁵ 30, if fine down to the small roots then 35.

• I’m suddenly curious— isn’t the leader of Haetae Guild⁶ the strongest in Korea?

• Nah, I think it’s a civil servant.

• What? A civil servant? Are you joking?

• Sir, if you returned from living in another world, please report to the Special Agency first.

Buying materials. Mandrake roots 50, Dungeon Ginseng 30, if fine down to the small roots then 35. Don’t bully newbies. They might’ve really just crawled out of a cave today.

It must have been an interesting topic, for even in the middle of material requests people cut in to chat about it.

At the mention of the strongest civil servant, Wonhyo suddenly recalled something.

The man with cold, silver-threaded glasses, sharp as a sword abandoned in frost.

Even among the Special Agency staff he’d seen that day, none had exuded an aura as powerful as Cheongmun did. It made him wonder if this bureaucrat everyone spoke of so eagerly was that very man.

But at the same time, if he was really that strong, why had he appeared at the scene personally? That made it doubtful.

Wonhyo stared blankly at the scrolling words before moving to his desk.

The breeze against his damp skin raised goosebumps, but he paid it no mind as he rifled around until he found a small slip of paper.

“Let’s see.”

He rubbed at the simple business card, holding the concise bureaucratic information.

It had his name and position, so searching him up should work.

Wonhyo entered the keywords into his phone’s search bar.

[No information found on ‘Lee Cheongmun’ and ‘Bureau of Investigation’.]

“Hm?”

Confused, he tried searching with “Special Agency” added, but nothing came up either. Removing the position, entering only the name, showed only unrelated namesakes.

When “Special Agency” was searched alone, a government site popped up.

Skipping past the main page explaining the institution’s purpose, Wonhyo dove into the organizational chart— but it only showed department names, no personnel information whatsoever.

There was, in fact, less information than what his business card revealed.

Preparing to dig deeper, Wonhyo’s fingers paused.

“No need to dig too much.”

Why was he even searching someone he’d never have to meet again unless they contacted him?

“But still…”

If someone so high up ordered him to work with this man, it meant fate had tied them together somehow. It felt strange to know so little about someone linked to him that way.

He raised the business card, staring at the neatly engraved three characters of Cheongmun’s name, almost as if it was his face. Yet it told him nothing.

Why was it him, of all people?

Even if he helped Cheongmun, it wasn’t as if it would change his own fate. So what was the benefit of staying tied together?

And why did it have to happen now, when he was already trapped by circumstances?

Laying the card down, Wonhyo turned, pulling on a loose T-shirt and baggy sweatpants before heading for his shrine.

He retrieved the obanggi⁷.

Though a shaman might clearly see other people’s lives, their own life is like a mirror—difficult to discern past or future beyond what is immediately visible. But since his spiritual power had recovered after rest, it was worth trying.

Among the spirits who lent him power, he posed his question to the one most fond of speaking about the future.

“Should I continue this connection?”

He rubbed the fluttering staff poles of the folded obanggi before pulling a stick with his eyes closed.

As his arm stretched forward and eyes opened, a crimson streamer swayed.

A positive answer.

“Why though?”

He asked again, but of course no reply came.

Gathering the rolls again, he posed another question.

“When I touched him, the accursed energy stopped accumulating. Is there a reason for that?”

He pressed it against his palm a long while before drawing another stick. This time, white.

Not a rejection either.

Frowning, he repeated the divination.

“Is there anyone else… I could come in contact with? Other than my mother and elder sister?”

Several times he rolled the sticks in his palm until another was pulled out. Surprisingly, not green.

Had it been green, it would have meant denial—that there was no one else. Another color meant yes, there was.

Perhaps it meant his uncle?

He sighed deeply.

As he thought of another question, he once again grasped the rolled sticks.

“Does what I see clinging to him benefit me?”

This time there was no response.

He wondered if the invoked spirit had gone elsewhere, but no—it still weighed heavily upon his shoulders.

“Will it help with my quest? Help me escape this situation?”

Pressed for answers, he found no stick seemed right to pull.

Exhaling, Wonhyo dismissed the power and set the bundled obanggi down.

Massaging his stiff shoulders from the brief strain of borrowing divine energy, he furrowed his brow.

If the answer had even hinted at the quest’s relevance, he’d have been comforted. Instead, it was nothing more than a vague “stay near him.”

Resigned, he finally opened the long-ignored quest window.

『<Job Quest>

Due to exceeding the time limit, Stage 2 penalty is now applied.

※Penalty Stage 2 debuff: When corrupted energy accumulates, you transform into your ilju-dongmul(Spirit Animal)⁸.

-Details Page』

Opening further:

『Find Gwisal Valley⁹ and meet the boy at its entrance. (2/??)』

On the surface, it seemed a trivial errand quest.

It was a type often linked to skill-acquisition quests.

But his case was unusual, a time limit attached.

Since such cases were unheard of, when he first asked around, they thought he was lying.

The location of Gwisal Valley had only revealed itself when penalty Stage 2 began; before, the destination was marked only with question marks, making it impossible from the start.

“Ha, what a life.”

He glanced at the warning that Stage 3 neared if he failed within the displayed countdown.

『-17:03:05:23』

Seventeen days and three hours remained—fail to complete it by then, and the next stage would trigger.

From 1 to 2, he had learned well enough: in Stage 1, transformation into ilju-dongmul was slow, almost harmless. But now accumulation rose faster, and when transformed, instinct ruled over reason.

If Stage 3 came, he’d stay a beast longer. Eventually human consciousness would vanish.

Anxiety pressed: would he someday be stuck eternally as an animal?

He wasn’t overly attached to being human, but neither did he welcome the idea of becoming a beast.

Sighing long, he murmured,

“Still, if the talismans I put up this time all sell, at least I’ll make money. So it’s fine.”

He bit his lip hard, recalling the location of Gwisal Valley.

The boy awaited there, but the place was on the 7th floor of the Tower.

Few hunters ever went that high, and fewer still even knew its name. Some said no NPCs had been spotted there at all.

Checking his bankbook for the funds he had saved up to hire hunters to reach the 7th floor, Wonhyo opened Hunter Net again.

Pulling up his own post, he checked whether any replies had come in.

Footnotes:

1. ㅌㅅㅊ: Likely shorthand for 특수청 (teuksu-cheong), “Special Agency,” the main hunter-authority organization.

2. ㅌㄹ: Likely shorthand for 테러 (tero), “terror,” shorthand slang for terrorism.

3. Special Agency (특수청): Government body managing hunter/magic incidents.

4. 계자 (contractor): Term for someone bound to a supernatural or spiritual contract, e.g. with beings, spirits, gods.

5. Dungeon Ginseng (던전삼): Fictional extension of actual ginseng, but grown/harvested in dungeons.

6. Haetae Guild (해태 길드): “Haetae” is a mythical Korean lion-dog beast that guards against fire and injustice.

7. Obanggi (오방기): Five-colored ritual flags used in Korean shamanic practices, each color representing a different direction/element.

8. Ilju-dongmul (일주동물): Spirit animal bound to one’s lunar cycle or fate.

9. Gwisal Valley (귀살곡): Literally “Valley of Demon-Slaying” or “Ghost-Slaying Valley.”