TFN C43

Chapter 43

[-Tower Bus Operating.

Fast run from Floor 1 to Floor 15.

No comments.

Contact by private message only.]

└ Do they really go all the way up to the 15th floor?

└ Unless it’s a major guild, they usually don’t go past the 5th. 10th at most. I heard anything above that is dangerous unless your specs are insane.

└ If you’re not inquiring, don’t cut in.

└ What kind of ban is that? There’s no such rule. Making up rules now?

└ If they can bus to the 15th, they must already be at least around the 30th. Must be part of a major guild.

└ If it’s true, I’m jealous.

As Wonhyo scrolled down reading the comments, his heart began to pound.

If they could race up to the 15th floor, wouldn’t getting to the 7th be a free ride?

He opened his banking app and checked his account balance, swallowing greedily.

“Hopefully it’s not already fully booked.”

Worried there might be a closing comment at the end of the thread, he scrolled down to load the rest.

Then, propped at an angle against his pillow, he suddenly jerked upright.

└ This guy’s a scammer.

The blow landed squarely, a punch thrown amidst all the comments filled only with envy.

└ How am I a scammer?

└ If you’re confident, show your gear.

└ (photo) (photo)

└ Wow, are you crazy? Don’t you recognize whose shield that is? The owner passed away not long ago, and her keepsakes were all made public.

└ Caught red-handed trying to scam with stolen pictures, huh?

└ I’ve seen this before! This post was up once already. (link)

└ Oh, you’re right. A search shows it’s CandyTwo’s gear. (link)

└ What is this? Mocking the dead?

└ I told you, it’s mine! It’s not like there’s only one of that item in existence. That crazy bitch must have stolen my photos. Why would I ever need to steal someone else’s equipment pic just to show off?

└ Sure, sure. You’re the strongest man alive, right? Go wash your feet and sleep. Pathetic.

└ ???: Everything good belongs to meee! (Not really)

└ Here’s a recipe for delicious kimchi stew: kimchi, garlic, green onion, pork. I prefer pork belly, but any cut works.

└ Damn it, I said it’s really mine!

As Wonhyo read the furious, desperate comments, he flung his laptop down onto the mattress.

『You have come into contact with a powerful Ghost Qi. (…In progress… 71.7%)』

“…What the hell now?”

[We have secured the identity of the suspected perpetrator. Can you visit the site?]

[-That’s not the important part right now! Can you find out who wrote this post? (link)]

Cheongmun’s brows arched sharply.

He had sent out a request for cooperation, only to receive this irrelevant response.

Kim, who had analyzed the footage, was convinced the man was a vengeful spirit, and Cheongmun still needed to confirm the suspect in person. But now they were saying it wasn’t important?

[-I can feel Ghost Qi from this post. Don’t ask me why—I don’t know.]

“What’s wrong, sir?”

The deputy asked, seeing the furrow between Cheongmun’s brows as he stared at his phone. They were on the verge of heading out to the scene, so of course he had to ask.

“Someone’s asked me to check a Hunternet post. They believe the poster might be connected to the vengeful spirit.”

He shared the link Wonhyo had sent in the team messenger. Everyone checked.

“Wait—that ID. It belongs to that dead person, doesn’t it?”

Officer Lee spotted the same discovery Nam had made.

“Yes. But… there’s a new post?”

It looked exactly like a living person writing replies in real time, arguing back and forth.

But the account’s owner had been dead for over a month.

“Can you trace where it’s being posted from?”

If the deceased’s residence was still intact, they had planned to go there. But if this was impersonation, they would need to confirm that as well.

“I’ll have to request cooperation from the telecom company, but I’ll check.”

“Good. Then once we finish up here, we’ll head out.”

“Understood. I also contacted the landlord. They said they’ve been waiting for the family, who never came, so the house has been left untouched until the deadline to clear it out.”

Kim reported.

Because unexpected deaths had become so common, the law had been amended: landlords could not reclaim property for at least twenty-eight days after death, to give families time to be notified.

Landlords had resisted at first, but since heirs could inherit unsorted possessions, and anything without claimants was auctioned to offset losses, even this case had been preserved.

“But it’s already been a month. Surprising they haven’t cleared it yet.”

“The rent’s been auto-transferred regularly, so the landlord didn’t realize the tenant had died. The hospital notified the police, but the family didn’t know the address, so they couldn’t reach the landlord either.”

Kim explained, answering the deputy’s suspicion.

“Estranged, maybe?”

“Not sure. Anyway, it’s been a month, and now the landlord knows. He says that’s enough.”

They all agreed it was fortunate, though not wholly comforting.

“For us, it’s convenient. No need for separate search warrants.”

Cheongmun skimmed the deputy’s remark and returned to the thread link Wonhyo had sent.

Even in those few minutes, new comments had stacked up—insults and rebuttals flying in a steady rhythm.

He scrolled up, back to the beginning of the quarrel.

The claim was that the posted photo had been stolen, followed by another user identifying the real owner.

And there, an all-too-familiar face appeared: Hunter Kim Jeonghee, her distinctive pink-and-mint gradient hair flowing as she smiled.

Studying the shield, Cheongmun confirmed whose name it was registered under.

Weapons—swords, shields, all armaments—were tracked by ownership. The shield had never once changed owners since it was obtained.

It was the property of the deceased victim.

So why did the poster insist otherwise?

“Was there any dispute when that shield was acquired?”

Sometimes, when guild teams raided Towers or dungeons, corruption occurred. If one person obtained an item, a higher-ranked hunter might steal it outright.

“This shield? No. Kim Jeonghee soloed the dungeon and registered it herself. She was carrying it until the day she died. It’s the very shield in the footage from the time of her death.”

The deputy immediately denied any such dispute, recalling the details.

Cheongmun, too, remembered the scene.

“The shape looks different.”

“Oh, that. At first, she only got the grip—just the handle part. Through quests, she collected fragments and assembled them into a shield. Later she upgraded it with more parts, until it became what you see in the photo. It was one of the fastest completions of that kind of weapon quest. Since she never revealed the final form, people thought the picture showed the original version.”

The deputy shrugged.

No one else could have interfered in the acquisition. So why was someone so insistently claiming it was theirs?

“Team Leader, we traced the current comments. They’re coming from the deceased’s address, with a matching IP.”

Cheongmun nodded.

“Let’s see it with our own eyes.”

No need to overanalyze what was happening. Better to open the door and see.

[-We have confirmed that the Hunternet poster and the suspected perpetrator are one and the same.]

Wonhyo blinked.

He stared at his laptop, bound tight with cords of talismans.

A ghost was writing those posts?

The “suspect” Cheongmun spoke of was undoubtedly a vengeful spirit. Wonhyo shut his eyes and opened them again.

No amount of blinking would change the message Cheongmun had sent.

If he assumed the post carried Ghost Qi simply because it was tied to the dead, then it was easy to understand. But what was the true reason?

The man had stalked that dead hunter for days, murdered him, and before that likely butchered children even younger than himself.

“And now, all this bastard does is bicker on Hunternet comments? He’s insane.”

If there was one thing Wonhyo knew, it was the depth of a ghost’s obsessions.

If it had carried enough hatred to kill, and had chased even to the corpse of the dead—then why now behave like this?

He pressed his throbbing forehead hard with his palm.

He had grown accustomed to ghosts being irrational, demanding, or erratic. But this he could not understand.

Nor could he simply shrug and say, well, he’s just crazy.

It wasn’t about understanding or forgiving the man.

Knowing why villains did vile things was the only way to deal more effectively with others like them.

Unlike other shamans, he did not console the dead with words like “You must have suffered much pain.”

He believed the laws of the underworld spared no one, and that the right course was to send them there as swiftly as possible.

Wonhyo’s eyes fixed on the laptop, plastered in yellowed ghost-paper talismans. He reached into the shrine and took out his obanggi cloth.

Cross-legged, he closed his eyes and steadied his breath.

With each inhalation, he drew in the energies of heaven and earth.

With each exhalation, he released the stagnation and impurity within.

In, and out.

Breathing again, he cleared his thoughts.

Thoughts always surged more stubbornly when told not to—but he focused only on his breath.

When his mind had settled, he let one question arise.

‘Will anything happen to him?’