Chapter 18

Cheongmun found Wonhyo’s phone number.

It wasn’t difficult to obtain, since the shrine registered at the address listed publicly displayed its business name and phone number online without special digging into personal details.

When the call connected, after a few rings, Wonhyo picked up.

“Hello.”

“…Hello.”

A low, gentle voice came through.

At the scene, he’d been very shy, his speech quick and pitched high from wariness, and when transformed into a tiger there had been a touch of youthful tone; now the register was entirely different.

“This is Lee Cheongmun with the Special Agency’s investigation team.”

“Oh? Yes. Uh… this is Yun Wonhyo?”

“Yes. Calling to check whether you might have visited the scene just now.”

The sound of the other’s flustered breath tickled the ear.

“Ah! Right. It’s not that I barged in without permission; the Mapo Precinct’s detective chief contacted me, so I stopped by. I didn’t go inside the scene, though…”

Cheongmun tilted his head.

Mapo already knew this had passed to the Special Agency; sending someone separately was odd.

Recalling that this detective chief was the type who rarely meddled in others’ business, it was tantamount to telling Cheongmun indirectly.

It meant: meeting Wonhyo would aid the investigation.

“I see. Any other issues?”

Since “poor condition” included the mental, he asked without special intent, but the response was unusual.

“Uh… about that. Sorry, but… has the case officially moved under the Special Agency’s jurisdiction?”

“Yes. We handle violent crimes involving awakeners; while some matters are being coordinated, the investigation has been handed over.”

“Ah, then… it seems I should have reported to you from the start.”

“…Sounds like you have something to say?”

“Right, uh… I found something—not inside the apartment, but outside. I’d like you to take a look.”

Cheongmun stood up on the spot.

“I’ll come to you now. If you tell me your location—”

“No! I—I can come to you. May I visit?”

Cheongmun’s brow flicked upward.

Something grated, but nothing specific came to mind.

There was no reason to refuse, however. The salt issue needed checking, too.

“Then please come here.”

“Yes. I’ll call when I arrive.”

As the call ended, there was even the sound of hair brushing, as if he’d ducked his head.

After ending the call, Cheongmun looked at the teammates pricking their ears in the wrong direction.

“A consulting witness who visited the scene yesterday will be here shortly. Seems he found something near the site.”

Faces brightened as he relayed what he’d heard from Wonhyo.

They had continually examined the scene but turned up nothing further; they were now simply awaiting autopsy results—so the reaction was natural.

They were combing the phone and computer to identify recent conflicts, but nothing had surfaced.

“In that case, we should—”

“I’ll meet him first, alone.”

Cheongmun remembered how sharply Wonhyo reacted to being touched.

He recalled how, at the scene, Wonhyo had hunched and passed by so as not to touch Deputy Manager Kim’s hand.

Cheongmun checked the time from the apartment to the Agency and decided to shift presently.

“A consulting witness? Why dress up ‘going to a shaman for advice’ like that?”

Heads snapped toward the openly griping head of Team 2 at the adjacent desk.

“What? Am I wrong? Getting help from a shaman to investigate a case?”

Cheongmun simply ignored him.

Since taking over Team 1, that man had been picking fights as if possessed; there was no need to react.

“What, are you ignoring me?”

As Cheongmun quietly brushed past, the Team 2 leader slapped his desk and stood.

Team 2 staff rushed in to restrain him, but his bulk and strength made it futile.

“Hey! Lee Cheongmun.”

“Do you have business with me?”

Watching the flushed Team 2 leader, his face ruddy then pale, Cheongmun answered evenly.

“Are you seriously saying you’ll get ‘consultation’ from a shaman? Does the audit team know you’re wasting tax money on a fraud?”

“Since you’re speaking as if you knew everything about what I do, I suppose your chair is the one that should be vacated, Team 2 Leader.”

“What?”

As the Team 2 leader’s eyes darkened pitch black, Cheongmun snapped his fingers.

A black cube shot from his hand and wrapped around the Team 2 leader’s head.

“Block.”

Inside the cube, Cheongmun removed the oxygen.

The Team 2 leader’s eyes rolled back as he collapsed; Cheongmun snapped his fingers again.

He grabbed the big man by the collar, hauled him out, laid him neatly on the floor, rummaged the desk drawer for a blanket, and threw it over him.

“When he wakes, please tell him we can speak again—with a clear head.”

The Team 2 deputy nodded and exhaled a long sigh.

Is this the right move?

Wonhyo tilted his head up at the Special Agency building, falling again into thought.

If Sister could hear what floated in his head now, she would have smacked his back with a palm and urged him to hurry inside—yet he was alone here.

Since being issued an awakener ID, he’d had no cause to come; it had been a long time since he visited the Agency.

Back then he’d gone to the annex’s civil-service counters; this was his first time in the main building.

“He said the café on the first floor, right?”

With over thirty minutes by car, perhaps the man had already come down.

It felt impolite to keep someone waiting too long; forcing his feet to move, Wonhyo walked.

As he entered the main building, he felt people’s gazes prickle and fall away.

It wasn’t so much deliberate intent as those fielding a stranger entering their domain; given that he wasn’t the only outsider passing through here, it was surely just self-consciousness.

He wanted to stave off self-consciousness and keep a sound mind, but somehow it felt draining.

People’s native auras form waves; pushing through that field was tiring.

When his spiritual senses first opened, getting close to people had made his mouth split open uncontrollably; being near anyone was distressing. Now, that should no longer be the case—but still.

Was the proportion of awakeners higher here?

His stomach lurched, like motion sickness.

Having power doesn’t mean fate is easily bent, yet the probability is higher; his energy was spent accordingly.

Hunched and tense, he sought the café.

Turning right from the lobby, an unfamiliar café sign came into view.

It’ll be a kiosk for ordering, right?

Suppressing a sigh, he stepped in.

At cafés where he met strangers, he never knew: order coffee first or grab a seat first?

He had never gone to a café expressly to meet someone unknown; he regretted not sorting this out outside before entering—but only briefly.

“You’re here?”

The option wherein the person he was to meet immediately came to fetch him had been forcibly selected.

They were supposed to call when arrived—why had he come down already?

“Uh, hello.”

Wonhyo bowed his head at once.

Having owed him while tiger-formed, this was the first daytime meeting in human guise; he hadn’t expected to be recognized immediately.

Besides, in his haste that day, he hadn’t greeted anyone at the scene except Uncle.

Smiling at him, Cheongmun said nothing—but the expression was clear.

“He smiled?”

It felt like a sighing curse had flown from somewhere—but what was that? Misheard?

Wonhyo repeated inwardly several times: no one is looking at me.

“I’m debating whether to order drinks and go up, or to talk here. Which is more comfortable?”

At the suggestion, Wonhyo tipped his head and glanced around the café.

Though not yet lunchtime, every seat was full.

To get a table, they’d have to stand and wait; even then, people kept coming in, not going out.

If they went up, it would be to a lounge or conference room—

Likely not so different from a police station.

“Then, uh, let’s go up.”

Cheongmun closely read Wonhyo’s expression.

Today, half his face was covered with a large mask, and a scarf wound thick over it; still, his large eyes betrayed every feeling.

He briefly threw his gaze far afield.

At a table some distance away, someone waved as if on cue.

Who is that?

Reading the words on that mouth, Cheongmun raised a gloved hand—middle finger up.

The private guild affiliates using the café fell quiet.

As the staring grew more insistent than before, Wonhyo’s discomfort showed.

Whether the looks were aimed at him or not, he couldn’t be sure; he didn’t avoid them, but he kept darting glances around.

He disliked being touched—and being watched.

A bit of annoyance mixed in, but fear seemed to weigh more.

So Cheongmun offered options.

Despite the crowd, they could have claimed seats and sat; instead, he made it known there was a quieter place, and after rolling his eyes briefly, Wonhyo chose that.

Curving his lips, Cheongmun sent another glance toward the spot that hadn’t ceased staring.

Faces read as greatly entertained; he ignored them.

“What would you like to drink?”

Startled like a child assigned homework, Wonhyo jolted, eyes rolling.

“Would there be lemonade?”

Cheongmun nodded.

He placed the order by phone immediately.