TFN C83

Chapter 83

Wonhyo pulled his mask higher over his face.

The autonomous taxi had stopped in the designated parking space for visitors, but someone had abandoned a car at the stand, forcing him to wait more than five minutes until the safety lock released.

Even in a police facility, the parking enforcement seemed nonexistent.

Suppressing a groan, Wonhyo looked up at the flight of stairs. He wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to go inside the building to get a visitor’s pass or head to the external reception office.

Maybe he should text Cheongmun first and move together.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, his phone buzzed in his hand.

“Yun Wonhyo.”

He didn’t even get a chance to check who it was before the call disconnected—and an all-too-familiar voice called out to him.

Looking up in surprise, he saw Cheongmun standing at the top of the steps, phone in hand, waving slightly.

“Oh—hello!”

Wonhyo quickly climbed the stairs, bowing in greeting.

As always, Cheongmun, dressed neatly in a fitted suit, returned the gesture with calm precision.

Next to him stood a tall, broad-shouldered man whose presence immediately put Wonhyo on alert. The stranger didn’t look like anyone from the Special Bureau.

“This is Detective Choi Chan from the Dongdaemun precinct,” said Cheongmun.

“Ah…” Wonhyo nodded, realizing. “I see.”

He bowed politely. “I’m Yun Wonhyo.”

“Choi Chan, Dongdaemun Police,” the man replied. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Inspector Park—and from a former detective at the Nowon precinct, too.”

Wonhyo felt some of his tension ease. It wasn’t much, but it helped. He didn’t like getting tangled up with new people, so his greeting came out short—but the detective didn’t seem to mind.

At least he’d said his name and nodded. His uncle would’ve patted his back in approval for that much.

Nowon precinct… that must have been the case last October. But he couldn’t quite remember whether the detective he’d worked with back then was named Jeon or something else. Too much chaos at the scene, too many disturbing details—it had been easier to forget.

“Was that the case where only a child’s ankle was found?” asked Cheongmun quietly.

“Oh? You know about it too, Team Leader Lee?” said Detective Choi, glancing over.

Cheongmun nodded slightly. “It was initially reported as a monster attack, if I recall correctly.”

His eyes shifted toward Wonhyo.

“Yes, I believe our unit provided preliminary support,” he continued. “It was suspected of being a dungeon break. Once we confirmed there were no indicators, we withdrew, so I didn’t hear the follow-up details. You participated in the investigation, Mr. Yun?”

“…We found burned rice and candles at the scene,” said Wonhyo softly.

The memory made his stomach tighten. Small, severed feet had been scorched and used as candle stands.

He’d been called in after an all-night shift, groggy and exhausted, only to find a shaman suspected of being the perpetrator—and another shaman brought in as an “advisor.” It had been utter chaos.

“I’ll go get the visitor passes,” Wonhyo muttered quickly, eager to change the subject.

He darted toward the lobby, handed over his ID, and lowered his mask briefly for facial verification. A lanyard with a visitor’s pass was handed to him in return.

Once he and Cheongmun cleared the security checkpoint, Detective Choi led them onward.

“Most of the suspects from the compiled cases are currently in detention,” Choi explained as they walked. “The one from my jurisdiction is still at the Eastern Detention Center, while the Gyeonggi cases have been transferred to the Seoul facility. The earliest one—from Pohang—was sent to a psychiatric care unit after a court-approved request for confinement. All have been formally indicted.”

Wonhyo listened quietly, letting most of the unfamiliar legal terms wash over him.

“I heard from Inspector Park that you’ve already reviewed the crime scene photos?” Choi asked.

“Only of the victims,” said Wonhyo. “I haven’t uncovered anything else.”

“I see. Still, I thought it’d be best to brief you a little more before the interview, which is why I asked to meet here.”

He opened a heavy door, and the low hum of conversation spilled out—a stark contrast to the silent hallway outside.

“Please, come in.”

Wonhyo noticed Choi give a subtle shake of his head toward Cheongmun, but when he glanced at the man himself, Cheongmun’s expression was perfectly calm, unreadable.

They walked past rows of desks, each one crowded with stacks of files, monitors, and coffee cups—a strange kind of order amidst chaos. The detectives all seemed to prefer desktops over laptops, perhaps by policy.

At the far end, Choi pointed to a small round table. “Here.”

Wonhyo pulled out a chair and sat down.

Choi fetched a tablet from his own desk and set it in front of them. “You can view everything on this.”

He offered them disposable earphones, but before they could reach for them, Cheongmun snapped his fingers softly.

In an instant, all external noise faded.

Detective Choi blinked, eyes widening.

“The sound’s been blocked,” said Cheongmun. “You can play it freely.”

Pulling up a chair beside Wonhyo, he gestured for him to begin.

Wonhyo nodded silently and pressed play.

“…This is footage from the suspects’ initial interrogations, right after arrest,” explained Choi, touching the translucent cube to highlight the video feed.

Wonhyo watched the dim interrogation rooms one by one.

Some suspects slammed tables and chairs uncontrollably. Others paced in circles, sniffing the air like feral beasts. Some lunged at officers, trying to bite them; others tore at their own flesh in bouts of self-harm.

Some symptoms overlapped, others didn’t.

Halfway through, Wonhyo paused the playback. He rewound slightly, slowed the speed, and played it again.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he stopped entirely, flicking his wrist to summon his sigil. The bell-shaped charm shimmered into his palm, and he shook it lightly while watching the footage.

A faint thread of energy flickered—thin as a hair at first—then grew clearer.

When the bell stilled, a translucent system window appeared before his eyes.

『Knowledge registered in Ten Thousand Laws of Spirits has reacted.』

『A new form of sorcery has been partially recorded.』

He frowned at the incomplete information that followed.

『Magic (魔法)

– A hybrid form of mana energy and unstable shamanic power has been registered.

– Traces of □□-sorcery detected in □.』

Just as he thought—fragmentary data. The system had only recognized the type, not the details. He closed the window and focused again on the footage, which was now running at normal speed.

One suspect after another appeared—nine in total.

When the last one screamed, biting off his own finger, Wonhyo exhaled a long, shaky breath.

『You have been exposed to faint “malicious energy.” (…In progress… 11.3%)』

The red warning light flashed across his status window. His penalty had reactivated after lying dormant for weeks.

“Here, drink this.”

Wonhyo took the bottle from Cheongmun and gulped it down. He hadn’t even felt thirsty, yet the water went down endlessly.

Only when the bottle was empty did he finally gasp for air.

The conference room they’d moved to afterward was quiet—no distractions, no noise—and that, somehow, made him feel even more drained.

He’d told himself he was ready for anything, but the exhaustion came creeping anyway.

“Are you all right?” Detective Choi asked, concern in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Wonhyo replied quickly, tensing his stomach as if to hold himself upright.

He’d seen something unexpected, and listening to the faint echoes of the dead had sapped his energy. He wasn’t about to admit that to strangers.

At least he’d prepared—calling his uncle beforehand, buying plenty of salt and red beans for purification. He was going to need all of it now.

He rubbed his face with one hand. His mask slipped loose, and a prickle ran across his skin like static before the sensation finally eased.

The system had called it “faint malicious energy,” but his spiritual sense had amplified it beyond that.

Taking a few slow breaths, Wonhyo looked around the room again.

There was one more face now—a new detective who hadn’t been there earlier.

Noticing his gaze, Detective Choi introduced him quickly.

“This is Detective Oh Sero, also from Dongdaemun. He recently joined the task force.”

“Oh… hello.”

Wonhyo gave a brief nod, relieved there’d be no need for further pleasantries.

He exhaled softly. Talking to unfamiliar people was never his strength, but with Cheongmun here—and information to share—he couldn’t stay silent.

“First,” he began, “about the footage. I noticed something—did you mix up the order of the suspects? The fourth person shown seemed to be the first to commit a crime.”

“Hmm? I believe the videos were arranged chronologically,” Choi said, frowning. “The fourth would be… the male suspect from Jeonju?”

“It was a woman,” said Cheongmun before Wonhyo could respond. His tone was calm but certain. “Mid-forties, around 162 to 165 centimeters tall—solid build.”

Detective Choi blinked, quickly reopening the tablet and replaying the footage to confirm.

The room fell silent but for the soft hum of the screen.