TFN C54

Chapter 54

“Is it an item?”

Wonhyo shook his head.

“No. It’s different from what I saw last time.”

Had it been a cursed item, the talisman’s structure would have registered as material for his skill. But the system had only marked it as a trace.

“Still, there’s something worth noting.”

He pulled out the phone he had stashed in his inventory, photographed the business card with its camera, and handed the original to Cheongmun.

He would have preferred to perform a full ritual treatment, but time was scarce. Instead, he affixed a talisman to a forensic evidence bag, a makeshift safeguard, and passed it over. Cheongmun tucked it straight into his inventory.

“Let’s go.”

Wonhyo nodded.

Cheongmun gathered the bodies of the dead, bore them with him, and moved toward the exit. Wonhyo followed at his heels, singing a funeral chant:

Ah, eh. Ho—o—

A life not lived to eighty, now climbing the slopes of Mount Bukmang!

To the green mountain, to the green mountain,

This is the road to the green mountain—

The dungeon’s exit lay outside the boss room, beyond the building.

Cheongmun led the surviving team members who had reappeared with the rescued civilians out first.

“Protected survivors have all been evacuated,” reported the vice-captain, after lining up the frail, the elderly, and the young to escape in turn.

Cheongmun tallied the count of the living with that of the dead recovered, then nodded.

The exact number of those who had been drawn into the dungeon was unknown, so the remainder of the rescue would fall to another squad. He would only learn once outside whether such a rescue team was already in place.

“I’ll follow right after.”

He guided Wonhyo to the exit.

“Once outside, a medical team will be waiting.”

Wonhyo nodded vigorously and stepped forward.

It was nothing more than walking into the wavering air that shimmered like heat-haze, yet his body stiffened with tension. The moment he crossed, the air against his skin shifted.

The oppressive weight that had smothered his breathing inside the dungeon lifted at once; his lungs opened and filled with clean air.

He recognized the scent of the outside first. Blinking against the sudden brightness, Wonhyo opened his eyes—

Click-click!

“Is it a survivor?”

“A survivor? This is from KNA News!”

The storm of camera shutters and flashing lights made his head spin.

What—what on earth?

He couldn’t even open his eyes properly. Raising both arms to shield his face, he squinted through slitted eyes, trying to find where to go. But his vision blurred, and he staggered without direction.

Then, all at once, a familiar presence enfolded him, shielding him.

“He’s out!”

“Team Leader Lee Cheongmun!”

“Over here, Team Leader!”

Wonhyo twisted his head and saw Cheongmun standing, his face cold and composed.

The shouts grew even louder, but strangely, the flashes died down. In an instant, the blinding daylight-like brilliance dimmed into gloom.

Cries resounded from all sides, incomprehensible, yet stabbing into his ears until he clamped them shut with his hands. Cheongmun lifted his arm.

“Yi—”

And the sound vanished.

The sudden silence was a relief, but when Wonhyo looked, he saw nothing outside.

At some point, a barricade had risen higher than a man’s head, shutting them in and blotting out both the crowd and their noise.

“Team Leader. The bodies…”

“They’re here.”

Once the outside gaze was sealed away, those who had been waiting for recovery surged forward to meet the last who emerged.

Cheongmun set the cube down upon the tarp spread on the ground.

When the cube dispersed, only devastation remained.

The recovery team opened body bags with practiced hands and moved the corpses with quiet familiarity.

Wonhyo stood numbly for a moment, dazed, until a hand touched his shoulder and he looked up.

Cheongmun’s eyes met his.

“How much malice remains?”

Wonhyo’s jaw dropped.

His foggy mind cleared in a flash, like cold water poured over him. He hurried to check his status window—only for a scarlet warning to flare before his eyes.

『You have come into contact with powerful malice.

Accumulated malice rising… (in progress…169%).』

Hic!

He gasped wrong and hiccupped, coughing and choking as his body shook. His eyes darted for refuge, but there was none. People swarmed all around, and the broken buildings were cordoned off with yellow tape.

Cheongmun, seeing his face go pale as death, held out a hand.

“Forgive me.”

Without waiting for consent, he lifted Wonhyo into his arms.

“Huh? Team Leader—”

“I’ll be away for a moment.”

The vice-captain blinked at the declaration, but seeing Wonhyo held in his superior’s arms, quickly gestured them onward.

Cheongmun leapt into the sky.

He summoned a cube below them to shield them from prying eyes.

From his inventory he retrieved a restorative item, broke it in half, and tried to bring it to Wonhyo’s lips—yet the quest penalty activated first.

There was no gradual shrinking—just a pop, and Wonhyo’s form contracted instantly.

Cheongmun barely caught him in time, keeping him from slipping through the air.

The little bundle wriggled in discomfort, trapped in folds of cloth, but concealment was priority. He ducked into an alley between half-collapsed buildings.

There, he gently pulled away the fabric—

And out rolled a round tuft of white fur. Pink ears, soft paw pads, a plump belly, and eyes and nose like three dots in a child’s drawing. A puppy.

“Yun Wonhyo?”

The tiny creature shook its head, tottered upright, and lifted its snout.

“Meong!”

Wonhyo sniffled.

Was it nearing dusk, or was it simply the chill of the air? A shiver ran down his small body.

If he were to become a dog, it would have been better to be a big one—like a husky. Instead, he seemed to have turned into a small breed.

Last time, he’d been a schnauzer, with long fur. This time, his coat was short, pure white.

He tried to lift a paw to check, but whether it was short legs or a heavy head, every attempt tipped him over.

Abandoning the effort, he looked up at Cheongmun.

Their eyes met, and Cheongmun, recognizing his gaze, wrapped him in a fold of cloth.

The wind was blocked, and warmth seeped in. Instinctively, Wonhyo burrowed closer into Cheongmun’s arms.

Then, realizing what he was doing, he tried to wriggle away. But the steady hand at his haunch only tucked him deeper in.

“To return to human form, we’ll need to act immediately. Are you prepared?”

From within the bundle, Wonhyo pricked up his ears.

The memory was still fresh—it had only happened that morning. The method was simple.

One had to take the restorative item, then seize the fleeting moment of transformation with a kiss.

It wasn’t the kiss that had taken long—ahem!—but rather the time needed to don clothing afterward.

Now, as a dog, his nose twitched. What he might have doubted as a human, his beast form detected keenly: the stench of the specter.

“Meong! Meong!”

We must go back! Over there!

He wriggled, poking his snout past the cloth, barking, nodding toward the direction.

Cheongmun, understanding, fetched not the restorative but a communication biscuit—an item for such transformations.

He broke off a piece and held it to Wonhyo’s muzzle.

Wonhyo carefully nibbled, swallowed, and—

“Ah, ah.”

His voice had returned, clear of canine yips.

Lifting a paw, he pointed.

“We need to go there.”

“The scene?”

Together, they looked toward the brightly lit zone where spotlights cut through the night.

“There’s the stench of the specter.”

Cheongmun’s expression turned grave.

“The body that vanished from the dungeon?”

Wonhyo’s ears flopped as he shook his head.

“Not the body. An object. Something it touched before death—or something it handled constantly. The specter’s will has clung to it.”

“I see. Like the school trousers of the victim.”

“Yes! Exactly.”

Cheongmun looked back at him.

“Is the energy strong?”

Wonhyo gauged it, then nodded. His ears flapped with the movement, but he endured it.

“Then we must return to the scene, even in this state.”

“Yes.”

Wonhyo wagged his tail. Cheongmun exhaled sharply.

He rose from the alley, flying back the way they had come. Again, eyes followed them—yet dispersed, confused.

“You’re back alrea—wait, what?”

“Whoa! A puppy! Is that a poodle?”

The members of Special Investigations Team One, who had gathered for debriefing, gasped at the sight of the small white dog in Cheongmun’s arms.

“Isn’t it a Maltese?”

Wonhyo tilted his head, confused.

“Kyaa—so cute! Do Maltese puppies look like that?”

Officer Lee glanced and nodded.

“Yeah. Maltese.”

Thus did Wonhyo discover his breed, his curiosity satisfied, his tail wagging as if to celebrate.

Groans and coos echoed from the team.

“Yesterday it was a chick, today it’s a dog?”

The vice-captain approached, tablet under one arm, reaching out a finger toward Wonhyo.

But Cheongmun stepped back at once, drawing him out of reach.

“I borrowed him for an errand. And he bites. Best not touch.”