TFN C84

Chapter 84

When the video was fast-forwarded to the fourth suspect, a middle-aged woman appeared—just as Wonhyo and Cheongmun had said.

“What the—? Why is the order mixed up?”

Detective Choi’s expression darkened. Behind him, Detective Oh, his face tense, shut his eyes tightly.

“That’s because the Violent Crimes Unit rearranged them,” he admitted.

“What?”

Choi’s face twisted in irritation, as though the reason had already occurred to him.

Wonhyo frowned at the thought that someone had tampered with the sequence but didn’t bother to comment.

“If you’ve confirmed that, I’ll start with that woman,” he said.

“Please do.”

Choi clenched his fists as he replied, and Wonhyo sighed softly.

“She’s definitely possessed by animal spirits—three, to be exact: a dog, a snake, and a pig. The snake seems to have built the dominant nest. It probably began with her making animal sounds, but has she started speaking more coherently lately? As if she can hold a conversation?”

Detective Oh nodded so vigorously his hair bounced.

“Yes! How did you know?”

“When an animal spirit lingers inside a human host for too long, that happens. It’s fast, even for animal spirits, but dogs and snakes mimic human speech the quickest. Anyway, could you tell me exactly when that first incident occurred?”

“It’s already been reported in the news, so you might’ve heard. It happened on December thirty-first last year—New Year’s Eve. Since it broke out during a family gathering, it was broadcast as the first news flash of January first.”

Wonhyo remembered.

The murder case had overshadowed celebrity scandals that night; his mother had muttered that the year would bring ominous things.

He checked the date again on his phone.

“Does that day mean something?” asked Cheongmun, who had been quietly observing.

“I’m not sure yet,” said Wonhyo. “But December thirty-first last year was the first day of the twelfth lunar month—the start of Seotdal.”

He dismissed the thought with a small shake of his head and returned his focus to the suspects.

He explained which animal spirits seemed to have taken hold, how strong or weak their symptoms were, and which creatures’ cries echoed most dominantly within them.

“It varies, but the pig appears in all of them. That’s likely why several spirits got mixed together—the pig swallowed the others, grew larger, and then possessed the host. We’ll have to meet the person directly to confirm that.”

After speaking so continuously, Wonhyo’s throat went dry, and he coughed into his fist.

“Let’s take a short coffee break. Detective Oh?” said Choi.

“Oh! Yes—shall I bring iced Americanos?”

“Anything’s fine,” said Wonhyo.

Oh hurried off.

Choi exhaled heavily and glanced at Cheongmun. “I’ll step out for a minute too. Need to make a call before we head out on field duty.”

After receiving their nods, he left as well.

Once it was just the two of them, Wonhyo quickly scanned the meeting room.

Cheongmun noticed and summoned a cube, erecting a translucent soundproof barrier around them.

Only then did Wonhyo swallow hard and meet his eyes.

“The system reacted,” he said quietly.

Cheongmun raised a brow. “Like before?”

“Yeah. Remember that business card we found at the Cheonggye shopping center?”

“The one from Bethany Evangelical Church?”

Wonhyo nodded sharply. “Same thing. My skill registered a partial new form of sorcery. The text wasn’t fully visible, but the system classified it as magic.”

Cheongmun rubbed his chin.

“If I recall correctly, only talismans created as ‘items’ or spells using mana get registered.”

“Right.”

“Then perhaps they used a technique involving animal spirits—and if it’s based on mana, it could be an awakened ability, or perhaps a cursed item again. Either way, it was used on ordinary people.”

“Just like the creation of the vengeful ghost.”

The man who’d become a ghost had once been a regular person too.

Wonhyo hesitated, then continued. “Still, this time it feels more like a skill than an item. The description mentioned something-something ‘art’—as in a 術 (sul).”

“The system doesn’t reveal everything, but it doesn’t lie either,” said Cheongmun. “I’ll check if there’s a known ability that matches or connects to it.”

Wonhyo nodded wearily.

Dealing with spirits was easier than dealing with people. If Cheongmun could uncover something, at least they’d be working alongside those who understood.

“But can this case even be handed over to the Special Bureau?” he asked.

After all, both the victims and perpetrators were civilians, though whoever was truly behind it might not be.

Cheongmun shook his head with a faint smile. “I’d like to, but no. Now that the Special Investigation Headquarters has been formed, they’ll want to deliver results themselves.”

In other words—bureaucratic turf wars.

Nine murders grouped as one case; the people who’d gathered to solve it weren’t about to give up the chance for glory.

“Adult politics,” Wonhyo muttered.

“Still, we have an opening to investigate. That’s enough,” said Cheongmun confidently.

Wonhyo just murmured, “If you say so.”

Detective Oh joined them for the visit to the detention center.

Wonhyo accepted the cup of coffee he offered, warming his hands on it while glancing at the weather outside.

The thick clouds were dark as ink, as though rain might fall any second, yet the air itself felt oddly dry—like the storm refused to start.

As they drove from Yongsan along the urban expressway toward the Eastern Detention Center, the detectives briefed him on precautions.

“You saw in the footage already, but their aggression is severe. Even transferring them from the cell block to the interview room is difficult, so opportunities to meet are limited.”

Wonhyo found it slightly ironic that they were warning him how to handle the possessed, but he didn’t bother replying.

Whether it was an animal spirit or a ghost, dealing with a host was exhausting work—he needed to conserve what energy he could.

If he could’ve gone straight into the holding area himself, it would’ve been simpler, but that wasn’t an option. Waiting was.

“By the way,” said Detective Oh from the driver’s seat, “you mentioned hearing about the suspect through another shaman?”

Wonhyo’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. I first heard about the Dongdaemun case while I was in Jindo.”

“Right, right. Apparently, one of the suspects used to go to Jindo for rituals—learned to beat the drum for ceremonies, they said. Do you think the others might also have ties to shamanism?”

“No,” said Wonhyo flatly. His tone dropped, and annoyance flickered across his lowered gaze.

“Possession has nothing to do with that. Or religion, for that matter. It’s like an allergy—some people react, some don’t. When someone with that sensitivity brushes against a spirit, they respond. That’s all.”

Besides, this incident clearly had external manipulation behind it; faith or lack thereof had nothing to do with it.

“I see,” Oh murmured.

Wonhyo frowned slightly and glanced at Cheongmun.

He’d promised to keep the system’s reaction a secret for now, but he wasn’t sure if that was the right call.

Still, the police only wanted him to verify whether it was spirit possession—they weren’t asking him to catch the culprit.

And from Cheongmun’s tone, he clearly didn’t want Wonhyo getting too deeply involved until they had solid proof.

Truth be told, Wonhyo just wanted to go home and collapse on his bed.

“Were any of the suspects affiliated with religion?” asked Cheongmun suddenly.

“Well,” said Choi, “nothing confirmed yet—we’re still compiling files—but most of them are non-religious. One is Protestant. The one we’re meeting today wasn’t exactly devout—visited fortune tellers, tarot readers, Buddhist temples, you name it.”

“No churches?”

“Churches?” repeated Choi, his voice sharpening. “Why—do you have something in mind?”

Meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, Cheongmun gave a slight smile.

“There’s a case in our records with similar patterns. The trail led to what appears to be a pseudo-Christian sect.”

“A cult church?”

“That’s our guess. No physical location confirmed, only a name—‘Bethany Church.’”

“Bethany…” Choi frowned, thinking. “There was a big church with a similar name in Busan, years ago.”

“Different group,” said Cheongmun calmly. “That one dissolved a decade ago. But lately, a new organization’s surfaced using the same name.”

“Church names change so often… makes sense to treat them separately. Still, I haven’t seen that name in any of our data.”

Wonhyo listened tensely, tamping down his frustration when no new clues surfaced.

He understood, though.

If the group had been careless enough to leave traces, the Special Bureau would have rooted them out already. The fact they remained hidden suggested something closer to a secret order.

Following the Tancheon River downstream from the Han, the expressway exit came into view. From there, the detention center was only minutes away.