TFN C67

Chapter 67

“Does it taste all right?”

“Huh? Oh—yes. It’s really warm. My whole body feels hot now.”

“That would be the potion in it.”

Wonhyo rolled his eyes, pretending to think, then finally spoke again.

“Ah, yeah. It’s sweet. I like it.”

In truth, he wasn’t particularly fond of overly sweet things—but with his lips still bluish from the cold, this amount of sugar was perfect. The potion mixed into it seemed to be working, too; his throat was steadily recovering.

“I didn’t think you could scream that loud,” Cheongmun said dryly.

Wonhyo rubbed at his throat and tonsils with his palm and muttered, “It was freefall. Of course I screamed.”

He’d realized only later—after Cheongmun had grabbed him mid-fall and pulled him to safety—that he’d been shrieking the whole time. Even when he landed on the cube, gasping and dizzy, his first words had been to apologize and thank him.

“Ugh…”

Wonhyo checked his recovering body and briefly considered buying some emergency potions with his savings.

He’d once been so strapped for cash that he’d avoided any unnecessary expenses, but things were different now.

He still couldn’t quite believe he’d finished that cursed, penalty-laden quest in just four hours.

Even his status window was clean—no traces of lingering curses or negative effects.

He could now touch spirits again without transforming into an animal.

That meant he could finally return to a normal life.

Resume his nightly rituals, settle the requests piling up from clients across the city.

Selling talismans had been enough to keep him fed, but exorcism was still his true calling.

I should call Mother and Noona too, he thought. They’ll be so relieved.

After all the trouble he’d caused them, they deserved to hear the good news first.

“By the way,” Cheongmun asked suddenly, “has the penalty been lifted?”

Wonhyo blinked, snapped out of his daydreaming.

“Ah—yes! And my rank increased, too.”

Cheongmun’s neat brows furrowed slightly.

“…I’ll be visiting the Bureau tomorrow for re-evaluation,” Wonhyo added quickly.

Since his skill ranks had been unlocked, his overall classification had shot up. Almost too much, honestly—it probably warranted a full reassessment.

“Have you scheduled your visit?”

“Uh… not yet? I was going to.”

Cheongmun nodded, glancing at Wonhyo’s still-swollen fingers.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, at the Bureau.”

“…Weren’t you off until the day after tomorrow?” Wonhyo asked hesitantly.

Cheongmun’s expression remained calm as he took a sip of his coffee.

“I have an early report meeting regarding the dungeon case.”

“It’s already ready?”

“There’s also progress on the business card you found, and the investigation into student Jang Heewon seems to be concluding.”

The various reports were being compiled faster than expected.

“And the laptop?” Wonhyo asked suddenly.

“Ah, right! I almost forgot about that,” he exclaimed, realizing how many things had piled up at once.

“If it’s all right, could you review it when you come by tomorrow?” Cheongmun asked.

“Of course!” Wonhyo nodded eagerly.

After all, thanks to Cheongmun, he had survived—and finished that hellish job quest. This was the least he could do.

Besides, now that physical contact no longer transferred bad luck, there was no need to worry about causing harm—or forming unintended ties.

“So, tomorrow—”

“One moment.”

Cheongmun interrupted, checking his phone. He glanced at the screen and immediately answered the call.

“Yes.”

— Team Leader! That thing posted again!

Cheongmun’s expression darkened.

“Details.”

— Twelve minutes ago, we removed part of the sealing talisman to back up the laptop data. But then all systems froze. The deputy told me the entire device went unresponsive right after.

“And then?”

— When I checked just in case, a new post appeared on HunterNet under the suspect’s ID. Same message as before.

The voice—Officer Nam’s—was quick and tense.

“Are you certain it’s not a prank? Some people like to imitate IDs for attention.”

— No, sir. The login point is the research lab.

Cheongmun’s frown deepened.

That lab was sealed with magical barriers specifically to investigate cursed or spiritual artifacts safely.

“Understood. I’m heading there immediately.”

— I’ll inform the deputy team leader.

He ended the call and turned to Wonhyo.

“There’s a post on HunterNet written by the vengeful spirit. Can you check if it carries any residual aura?”

“Right away.”

Wonhyo opened his phone and navigated swiftly to HunterNet.

He entered the community boards and scrolled until he found it—the same post he’d seen before.

Sure enough, there it was.

He tapped the title and slowly scrolled down.

No comments yet, so the energy wasn’t as turbulent as before, but the sinister miasma still seeped faintly from the screen.

“I can feel it. It’s weaker, but it’s there.”

He closed the post and summoned his fan, purifying the air around him with a few sharp flicks. The dark aura dispersed, the atmosphere brightening once more.

Cheongmun set his cup aside and rose.

“I have to head to the lab now.”

“I’m coming with you,” Wonhyo said, standing up as well.

Cheongmun frowned, eyeing his still-pale face.

“I’m fine,” Wonhyo insisted. “My rank went up—I can handle this much now.”

He wasn’t as strong as a Hunter, maybe, but he was sturdier than most civilians.

Besides—hadn’t he been warned in the Tower?

Be careful of that energy.

There weren’t many kinds of energy worth that warning. This had to be related to the vengeful spirit.

Cheongmun hesitated briefly, then nodded.

“All right. I’ll trust you.”

He walked to the window and opened it. A sharp gust of wind rushed in.

“I’ll be flying straight to the Bureau. Will you manage?”

Wonhyo thought of the last time he’d been airborne—falling, screaming, nearly dead—but clenched his jaw.

“I can do it.”

Without another word, Cheongmun summoned a cube outside the window and stepped onto it, extending a hand.

Wonhyo froze for half a heartbeat, surprised to see that hand again—one he’d thought he’d never touch.

Then he took it.

This will be the last time, he told himself.

The cube lifted, pulling him gently upward until he was seated beside Cheongmun.

“Departing,” Cheongmun said—and the cube shot forward like a bullet.

“We’re crossing the Han River now. What’s the situation?” Cheongmun asked, switching the call to speaker so Wonhyo could listen.

— There’s a proposal to disable comments on the post. We’re about to proceed with it.

“No!” Wonhyo blurted out before he could stop himself.

— Huh? Who’s that?

“I’m with Yoon Wonhyo,” Cheongmun explained briefly.

— Ah, the shaman. Hello, sir. But why not disable comments? Could it trigger something?

The deputy’s tone softened, deferential.

Cheongmun handed the phone to Wonhyo, who took it cautiously.

“It might agitate the spirit,” he said. “If it posted again, it has a purpose. Blocking interaction could interrupt that—and provoke it.”

He remembered clearly how, in the boss room, the ghost had raged when its actions were stopped.

— That’s troublesome. We can’t leave the post open either—it might lure someone into a fight, like last time.

Wonhyo frowned. Either way, there was risk.

“Can’t you… exile it?”

— Exile?

“Move the post temporarily into an admin-only folder, like reported posts.”

— Ah… standby. We’re trying that now.

There was a brief pause.

— Done. But some users might complain about censorship.

Wonhyo sighed. He’d seen that before—people insisting their posts were unfairly deleted, demanding explanations, or spamming reposts out of spite.

“It’ll be fine,” he said. “We’re almost there anyway.”

Cheongmun took the phone back and gave a short confirmation.

Within moments, the Bureau’s main building loomed ahead.

“This way.”

Wonhyo handed over his ID, received clearance through Cheongmun’s verification, and was issued a higher-tier visitor pass than before.

After passing through metal detectors and security scanners, Cheongmun led him not upward, but downward.

The first five basement floors looked ordinary—parking, cafeteria, archives. Wonhyo grew puzzled.

Then Cheongmun tapped his card against a secondary reader inside the elevator and pressed another button.

The panel flickered, then displayed B13.

As they descended, silence filled the narrow space. Wonhyo, uncomfortable, decided to ask what had been nagging him.

“The post on HunterNet… why is that vengeful spirit so obsessed with it?”

To him, it had just seemed like a typical bragging post—someone showing off, with a hint of arrogance.

Judging from the comments last time, it wasn’t even the ghost’s own picture; it had likely stolen someone else’s photo.

But still—it didn’t make sense. Why keep posting it, over and over, like a compulsion?

What could possibly make a spirit so fixated?