TFN C6

Chapter 6

Fast-forwarding a portion of the hologram-like 3D playback, they restarted it from just before the victim’s death. Then the camera captured a yellow sheet of paper burning on its own in midair, billowing smoke, and vanishing—exposed plainly to everyone’s eyes.

“Is that the talisman that person made?”

“Yes, sir.”

When the division chief confirmed it, Deputy Manager Kim snapped his head toward Cheongmun.

“Let’s call them.”

He flipped his stance like turning over a palm, and Cheongmun agreed to bringing in the shaman.

Whatever else, if they were the maker of the item used on-site, they needed to be heard.

“Ilbongtucheonjeong, Ilseogwisinyeong, Taesanghwasamcheong. Geupgeup ye yullyeong.”

Wonhyo slowly passed the freshly written talisman over the incense he had set in the censer.

The smoke rising from the incense was drawn into the characters, and half the incense collapsed into ash in an instant.

He neatly folded the talisman, placed it into a proper envelope, and sealed it.

When the sequence ended, he released the breath he’d been holding.

Writing talismans involved prayer and, upon resuming, devoutly borrowing divine power; but manufacturing them as items drained stamina.

Some fools said production types were just like old game characters—doping on mana potions and churning out goods like a factory—but forcing mana expenditure kills people.

After countless deaths, labor law protections for production-type awakeners were tightened.

For freelancers, that’s a distant comfort; if a body is to be worked, it gets worked—so every drop of usable mana had been poured solely into talisman crafting.

“Hm?”

Just as he was tidying up to rest, gooseflesh rose on his arm for no reason, and Wonhyo flinched.

He flicked his gaze rapidly around.

Having just drawn on spiritual power, his sharpened senses picked up nothing.

His eyes narrowed.

In cases like this, at the very least…

“Feels like something really, really rotten is about to happen.”

Shamans might not foresee their own fate, but this kind of uneasy premonition never missed.

No sooner had he spoken than his phone started whining insistently.

[Do Not Answer.]

That’s how the name displayed, but it was a call he had to take.

He hoped it was a misdial that would cut off in a panic—but the call rang on, dogged.

Even so, he didn’t reach for it easily; soon, his body imposed a constraint.

As if to say evasion was useless, a small pain pricked from his fingertips.

It meant this was something he must do.

With fingers stinging like needle pricks, Wonhyo connected the call.

“Hello.”

Calling after 10 p.m.—isn’t that a bit much?

He wanted to say that, but as an adult, he led with a greeting.

—Hey, nephew. Long time.

At the breezy tone at odds with its owner’s face, Wonhyo lifted his now-normal fingers to rub his brow.

Just exchanging greetings, yet he felt a headache coming on.

—Are you free now?

“Unfortunately, yes. I just finished up.”

—Great. I’ll send an address—come take a look at a scene?

Wonhyo frowned at his legal uncle’s words—uncle by registry as his legal mother’s (and spirit-mother’s) brother.

“Is it a scene that needs me?”

—Yeah. It’s coming up as neither human nor monster for the perp. You know what I mean.

He rose to his feet.

“I’ll be right there.”

—Head up to the scene as soon as you get here.

“Okay.”

He reached for his coat first.

He’d prepared himself and written talismans in proper, clean attire; throwing on an outer layer, he could head right out.

He opened the message with the link, tapped the address synced with the map app, and hailed an unmanned taxi; one nearby accepted quickly.

“Aeogae Station, huh. Nothing in the southwest lately.”

If it were a nasty scene calling him out at this hour, he would have felt something off while praying or casting lots—but there had been no sign.

“I’ll know when I get there.”

When Wonhyo stepped outside, a one-passenger unmanned taxi was waiting.

He waved his phone at the door; the lock released.

He opened the app and hit the depart button, and only then did the car roll down the hill toward the destination.

As he headed to a neighborhood not so far away, he organized what he needed.

He didn’t need a name placard or special attire.

He set an alarm on his phone.

It had been less than a day since he’d returned after turning into a pig from contact with a ghost on the mountain.

If this job caused trouble, it had to be handled before midnight ticked over.

“Before midnight it’s ox; past it, tiger.”

Either way, dangerous.

He could call his mother or sister, and his uncle was around, so nothing too catastrophic would happen—but changing forms in front of others, or being discovered by civilians post-change, would be the problem.

“If I even brush against anyone…”

He shivered.

In his heart, he wanted to turn the car around and go home now, and it stung that he couldn’t.

“Telling me to go work outside, then telling me not to form ties with people—honestly, everyone’s too much.”

Cursing a fate he couldn’t help, he looked outside.

Since awakening, he couldn’t take his eyes off the Tower’s blackish-red glow, shimmering like a lure.

“If I had the power to climb, I’d have gone in alone ages ago. Then I wouldn’t be scrambling to save money like this, and my skills wouldn’t be sealed.”

In an unmanned taxi driven by AI, with no one to overhear, the venting flowed freely.

“Why that kind of quest to begin with.”

If the difficulty were even a little easier, it wouldn’t have come to this…

“Enough.”

When the system chimed that they were near the destination, he exhaled and readied to get out.

Avoiding contact with people meant buses and subways were hard to use, so taxi fares burned him up—but he shook it off quickly.

“At most, an hour of usable time.”

If anything went sideways, he’d bolt.

Steeling himself, Wonhyo scanned the apartment complex ahead where police cars were visible.

Unmanned taxis only let passengers out at designated spots, so it stopped at the complex’s dedicated stand; he opened the door.

“…Ha.”

Is this for real?

Wonhyo looked up at the sky.

“Exposed to powerful ‘ghostly energy.’ (…in progress…43.7%)”

A warning window popped.

He’d never had the system ping before even touching a ghost. Still, system notice or not, it was obvious.

Feeling the ghostly energy on his skin, he clicked his tongue.

He rummaged in his coat and took out, not an item, but a Spirit-Suppression Talisman he had crafted long ago and completed with a hundred-day prayer.

“Sinryeongipji. Baekmujeomgi. Sinbuhajiilchulsim. Sansin-aksal bulgamchim. Obong-yanggong seonsageupgeup ye yullyeong chik.”

When he breathed power into it, the paper flared.

The energy stored in the talisman unfurled, and a single layer of barrier went up.

“Exposed to powerful ‘ghostly energy.’ (…in progress…44.1%)”

The value had been spiking the moment he stepped out onto the ground; now it climbed more slowly.

It couldn’t be fully blocked, but he might be able to hang on by a thread.

He reminded himself he absolutely must not make contact with any ghost, then found the unit number and stood at the entrance to the scene.

“How can I help you?”

Perhaps there had been many visitors—police and others—the security guard, keeping watch, addressed him.

Wonhyo flinched at being spoken to and reflexively stepped back a pace before answering.

Good thing he’d thought to wear a mask.

“I’m here by request to visit the scene upstairs.”

“One moment. Hey, this gentleman says he was called up—upstairs?”

“I’ll confirm.”

It looked like police controlling the scene were stationed here, too; he saw them exchanging over the radio.

“Mr. Yun Wonhyo?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Head up to the 13th floor.”

So no ID check—easier entry than expected.

As he stepped into the elevator, the guard tapped a keycard and pressed the floor button.

“You can’t go up without a card.”

“Ah… thank you.”

Wonhyo bobbed his head.

If they checked that sort of thing for access, this must be a very high-end apartment.

His own place’s “security” was a flimsy aluminum door that fluttered; he’d reinforced it with talismans, and even if someone got in, there was nothing in the shrine to steal—but the impression of no security was hard to shake.

Still, being a house meant no floor-noise issues; in apartments, if the upstairs went wild like this, the entire building suffered. His old place wasn’t so bad.

When the doors opened, he craned his neck around.

Which side, he wondered—one side had its door thrown wide, so it was easy to find.

“…”

Swallowing a sigh that wanted to escape, Wonhyo called to those “inside” before crossing the threshold.

“May I come in?”

Those standing in the entryway, looking out from inside, nodded and lifted the orange tape line strung across the doorway.

He ducked slightly and stepped in.

“Exposed to powerful ‘ghostly energy.’ (…in progress…49.3%)”

He swallowed back a whistle of alarm. Maybe because he moved too fast, a cough escaped.

It jumped five percent just like that?

Forcing down the urge to turn and flee, Wonhyo strode further in.

People packed the spacious studio—big enough to swallow his entire home.

“You’re here?”

Seeing his uncle scurry over in shoe covers to join him, Wonhyo dipped his head.

“Shoes first.”

When he wrapped his shoes in the offered covers, a barrage of stares pricked at his skin.