TFN C88

Chapter 88

Before they had even arrived, a brief call had been enough for his mother to prepare everything.

By the time they reached the gate, the charcoal brazier was already burning bright, its orange glow flickering against the twilight. Cheongmun, for once, looked hesitant. His expression didn’t betray much, but his energy did.

“If you jump over the fire, any impurity that clings to you won’t follow,” Wonhyo explained casually before hopping lightly over the flames.

Cheongmun lowered his gaze halfway and crossed in one long stride.

“This must be the person you mentioned? The one who helped you before?”

His sister asked softly as she closed the gate behind them.

“Yes,” Wonhyo replied. “He’s the head of the Special Investigation Division—the one in charge of the vengeful spirit case from before.”

Though she had heard the story countless times, this was their first meeting in person, so an introduction was necessary.

Turning toward Cheongmun, Wonhyo gestured toward his sister. “This is my nuna. She’s also a disciple of my mother’s.”

Not family by blood, though in age she was closer to his mother’s generation; still, in the formal hierarchy of their faith, they were equals.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Lee Cheongmun,” he said politely.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hyoryeong,” she replied, using her spiritual name instead of her given one—a true shaman’s greeting.

Her lips curved into a graceful smile as she motioned inward. “Come into the inner shrine. Mother is waiting.”

Even the Celestial Lady might have descended, Wonhyo thought, noticing the faint red fabric swirling behind his sister’s head like a spirit’s skirt.

He gestured ahead. “That building over there.”

Crossing the gravel courtyard and passing through a small wooden gate, they reached the inner hall—its black-tiled roof shading a garden decorated with curious charms and carved stones.

The energy there was palpable. The kind that made one’s skin prickle; this was indeed the dwelling place of spirits.

His sister led the way, sliding open the inner door and stepping carefully inside. Wonhyo followed, with Cheongmun bringing up the rear.

It was only a few steps from outside to in, yet it felt like entering an entirely separate world.

“The interior’s a bit unusual, isn’t it?” Wonhyo asked.

“Not really,” Cheongmun replied. “This is closer to what I’d imagined a shrine to be. More fitting than your place, Mr. Yoon.”

Wonhyo shot him a look, one eye twitching—but he had to admit, the man wasn’t wrong.

Still, few homes displayed halberds and spears so casually in the courtyard. Even the ritual blades, used during trances, had been laid out deliberately in a line—forcing anyone walking through to step carefully around them.

Every time he visited, Wonhyo wondered if his mother wasn’t a bit too militant for a shaman. Yet Cheongmun seemed unbothered, which was surprising in itself.

Wonhyo crossed the courtyard, removed his shoes at the stone steps, and stepped onto the wooden floor.

“I’m here,” he called softly.

“Come in, child,” came the gentle reply.

His sister nodded and slid open the shrine’s inner door.

The fragrance of burning incense rolled out in a warm wave.

Unlike the dazzling, colorful paintings on the walls, his mother was dressed in a pure white hanbok, her hair neatly coiled. She turned with a serene smile.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Lee Cheongmun,” he said before Wonhyo could introduce him.

Her kind face brightened. “I’ve heard much about you. My son tells me you do fine work.”

At that, Cheongmun glanced at Wonhyo with a faint, almost teasing smile. “It seems Mr. Yoon spoke very well of me. I’m just a government worker, really.”

“I see. Well, don’t just stand there, both of you—sit down. You too, Team Leader Lee.”

At her gesture, Wonhyo quickly fetched a couple of cushions and set them out, motioning for Cheongmun to sit first.

“I was about to bring something to drink,” his mother said. “We have juice, tea, and coffee.”

“Should I help?” Wonhyo asked, half-rising.

His sister waved him down. “No need. Sit. You’re having coffee?”

“No, juice for me.”

“All right. And you, Team Leader Lee?”

“Water is fine.”

“Understood.”

She gave a brief, assessing look before nodding with a smile and stepping out.

As she left, Wonhyo stretched his neck, easing the stiffness that came from the shrine’s heavy, charged air.

Their mother’s eyes moved between the two men. “It sounds like things went rather rough this time.”

Wonhyo grimaced slightly, recalling the detention center. With Cheongmun sitting right beside him, it felt awkward to recount everything in detail, so he kept it brief. “Something unusual came out of the suspect. It was… mixed.”

“You mean that spell registered in your system?” she asked.

“Yes, something like that.”

Frowning thoughtfully, Wonhyo opened his system window again. He realized he’d never checked the results after the long search delay earlier.

『Knowledge from Ten Thousand Laws of Spirits has reacted.』

『Similar talisman forms detected.』

At last, the results appeared, a cluster of translucent panels hovering in his vision. It was reminiscent of the time he’d analyzed that cursed artifact before.

『Detected: Household Misfortune Prevention Talisman (15), Universal Transaction Seal, Evil Energy Repulsion Charm (7)… Household Barrier Series.』

“Huh?”

The list made no sense in context. What did those have to do with animal spirits? The long delay had been for this? There was one oddity among them, but nothing groundbreaking.

He relayed the information to his mother.

“That’s quite a combination,” she murmured. “Somewhat similar to your own talisman methods.”

“I guess so,” Wonhyo admitted.

It wasn’t unusual for him to use purification charms in new environments or to shield people during relocations. If one considered the human body as a house, then applying such talismans directly made sense.

“But the Transaction Seal—what’s that about?” he muttered.

“When we discovered the item connected to that vengeful spirit, the system paired it with the Rebirth Talisman,” he continued. “It reversed its purpose—to keep the soul from moving on instead of helping it pass peacefully. If the same logic applies here, maybe these protective talismans were inverted too, letting spirits enter more easily.”

“Still, reversing a transaction charm would only…”

“Prevent the sale of goods?” Cheongmun interrupted, puzzled.

“Not exactly,” Wonhyo said, scratching his brow. “Let me explain it this way. When an animal spirit possesses a body, we say it’s building a house.”

“That’s right,” his mother confirmed.

“And not just any body will do—it has to be the right fit. If someone used a charm to make that process easier, they’d be preparing the ‘house’—the body—for entry.”

“So you’re suggesting they weren’t blocking transactions, but inviting them,” Cheongmun said.

“Exactly.”

“But what about amplification? There’s no mention of reversing the charms’ purposes in your system, only that they were used together.”

“Well…” Wonhyo frowned. “Maybe they used them that way intentionally—to boost the effect. Hard to say.”

He normally wouldn’t have thought so, but perhaps Cheongmun was right.

If the charms were inverted—to make possession smoother—and the Transaction Seal was empowered to strengthen the bond, then…

“They must have used something truly foul to achieve that level of control,” his mother said quietly, reading his thoughts.

“Is that… difficult to do?” Cheongmun asked.

Wonhyo nodded, rubbing his forehead. “Very. Even if it looks hastily scrawled, a proper talisman needs structure—each symbol placed for a precise command. Normally one charm does one job. That’s how the instructions are followed cleanly.”

“So having a Transaction Seal among them already makes it stand out,” Cheongmun noted.

“Exactly,” his mother said. “A sale thrives on traffic—on people coming and going. So to use that energy to twist or lure something in is possible. But there’s a difference between forcing the door open from the outside and enticing what’s within to step out and beckon others in.”

She spoke slowly, explaining how the two types of charms functioned in opposition.

“The harder the talisman is to make, the greater the power—and the heavier the recoil. Power always demands payment.”

“Still,” Wonhyo murmured, “whoever did this clearly knew their craft.”

“Indeed,” his mother agreed. “No amateur could bind conflicting charms this precisely. That kind of knowledge doesn’t come from dabbling.”

Such people—those who misused spiritual power—were like poisonous mushrooms. No matter how often they were eradicated, they always grew back. But to wield such a force without fear suggested recklessness, not mastery.

“If they knew nothing of yeoksal, they can’t truly serve the gods,” she added, her tone darkening.

“What is yeoksal?” Cheongmun asked.

Wonhyo hesitated. “…Reflection, kind of. You see, a sal—a curse or attack—doesn’t always hit its target cleanly. It can rebound. Like how magic can be dispelled.”

“So, the curse reflects back on the caster,” Cheongmun summarized.

“Exactly. And in shamanic practice, the line between sender and receiver isn’t clean. When you cast harm, you’re tied to it. If the other side repels it, the energy comes back twice as hard.”

Cheongmun tilted his head. “So it can be avoided—but at a cost, perhaps?”

Wonhyo’s brows furrowed. “Yeah. You can dodge it, but you’ll pay. The power wasn’t meant to hurt others. If you twist it that way, the backlash is severe. And if you’re borrowing power from something unholy—like in this case—then…”

He trailed off, his voice low.

“Then not even your life is enough to pay the price.”

 

신당 (Shindang) – a Korean shamanic shrine, often located inside a home or in a small building where spirits (신령님) are enshrined and rituals are performed.

 

작두 (Jakdu) – a large ritual blade that shamans sometimes stand or dance on during trance rituals to prove their divine possession or sincerity.

 

금줄 (Geumjul) – a twisted rope decorated with paper charms, hung at gates or doors to ward off evil spirits or mark sacred boundaries.

 

당파 / 언월도 (Dangpa / Eonwoldo) – traditional polearms or crescent blades, weapons sometimes displayed in shrines as part of protective or warrior-spirit rituals.

 

살 (Sal) – literally “killing energy”; in Korean shamanism, it refers to malignant spiritual energy or a curse.

 

역살 (Yeoksal) – “reflected curse,” a concept where harmful spiritual energy bounces back onto the person who cast it.

 

부적 (Bujeok) – a talisman or charm, usually handwritten on yellow paper with red ink to summon, seal, or repel certain spiritual forces.

 

동물령 (Dongmul-ryeong) – “animal spirit,” a malicious spirit born from an animal’s lingering resentment or suffering, capable of possessing humans.