TFN C91

Chapter 91

Wonhyo pulled out the ladder stored in the utility room and unfolded it.

From inside, he brought out a roll of kimchi-making plastic sheeting he normally used for work, spread it on the floor, and laid the freshly washed blanket across it.

The plastic fogged over where the lingering heat touched it.

The blanket was mostly dry already, but he still wondered if this made sense—he was only trying to remove the last traces of moisture left in the fabric.

Still, there was no helping it.

He couldn’t just run out to buy a drying rack right this moment.

From last evening through the morning, he had fought for washing-machine space against the people doing their spring cleaning, washing all their old bedding—so now he was completely drained.

“Was the real problem thinking I could use a fresh blanket every day? I have seven blankets, so why do I not have a single one I can actually use today?”

Unable to resolve the root cause of this ridiculous loop, he could only let out deep sighs.

“Ugh.”

Shaking out his arms as though warding off bad luck, Wonhyo passed the blankets spread throughout the house and went to the kitchen.

Since the tea leaves hadn’t fully rinsed out, he washed the tea strainer that had been soaking in specialized detergent and placed it on the shelf—finishing the last of the dishes.

Rather than turning on the fan to deal with the hot, humid air filling the house, he opened the window.

A gust drifted in—humid like inside, but tinged with a cooler edge.

“I guess I should’ve just used the fan.”

When he had come home earlier it still seemed fine, but now it felt like at any moment the first raindrops would scatter.

[-Arriving in 30 minutes.]

His phone, set deliberately to speak notifications aloud, announced a message. It was from Cheongmun.

If it was thirty minutes, he must have just left his apartment.

It wasn’t even Sunday but Monday—maybe traffic would be lighter?

Thinking that, Wonhyo tilted his head.

But wait—why would a Special Affairs Agency official be off on a Monday? He wasn’t a public-library librarian with fixed shifts.

A shaman was basically self-employed: if work came, he worked; if not, he rested. But he couldn’t guess at all what determined Cheongmun’s days off.

“Well, he did work for almost a month straight without a single day off and even pulled overtime. If he’s taking leave, it’d definitely have to be a weekday.”

Just last Saturday, he had gone to the detention center, then dropped the man off at his mother’s house, and instead of going home he had returned to the Special Affairs Agency.

He used to think that if you became a government worker, your days off were guaranteed. Apparently, that wasn’t always true.

“Still, he doesn’t seem like the type to care about what others think at work. Does he have some reason to run himself ragged?”

If he wanted to, he seemed like the type who would leave right at five o’clock on the dot. It was impossible to imagine him being dragged around by anyone’s whims.

Anyway, since he would arrive soon, Wonhyo changed out of his loungewear and into something suitable for going out.

He could run to the local laundromat in stretched-out sweats and slippers, but riding in someone’s car for a long distance required dressing decently.

Especially when working.

He would need to bow politely here and there, saying, Please assist us, so he couldn’t look messy—even if he wasn’t precisely aiming to look “pretty.”

His patron spirit, the Seonnyeo-nim, was particularly strict about that sort of thing.

Seeing the sky threatening rain, he put on a waterproof windbreaker and high-ankle boots.

Once he stepped outside, a light drizzle—nothing serious yet—began to fall.

Not enough to warrant opening an umbrella, so he tucked it back into his inventory and pulled the hood of his windbreaker low instead.

Since it was almost time for Cheongmun to arrive, he looked down the alley, then lifted his head toward the sky.

It was dim from cloud cover but not bleak. It wasn’t fresh and lively like a midsummer shower either—but it carried no sense of ill omen.

Hearing a car coming from the bottom of the slope, Wonhyo turned his head.

Right on the dot—exactly thirty minutes later—Cheongmun’s car appeared.

“You could’ve waited inside.”

“I just stepped out.”

Shaking off the droplets clinging to his windbreaker, Wonhyo climbed in.

Cheongmun handed him a dry towel. After wiping off lightly and buckling his seatbelt, he returned the towel.

Then, instead of driving back up the narrow alley they came from, Cheongmun turned the car in the opposite direction.

Wonhyo glanced at his outfit.

He had seen him in casual clothes once before—when they went to the pagoda. Otherwise, he was always in his work uniform. Today, he wore black jeans and a black bomber jacket.

He had heard the incident they were visiting was from an older case, but judging by the clothes, perhaps they would have to move around quite a bit.

Suddenly more conscious of his own attire, Wonhyo looked down.

He was wearing roomy, denim daily-wear hanbok pants—perhaps he should’ve picked something more fitted.

“Is it rough where we’re headed?”

He asked during the moment they idled, waiting to enter the main road from the alley.

“It’s a detached house near Achasan, in Gwangjin-gu.”

“Oh?”

He had been to Achasan several times before.

“When I was little, my sister used to take me to the Children’s Grand Park often….”

“I went almost every weekend as a kid. It was only three subway stops from home.”

“Every weekend? Wow—”

Even going once every two months brought him so much envy from the other kids at the orphanage, but going weekly? That was truly enviable.

Wonhyo thought of something he had heard recently about the park.

“But it’s closed now, right?”

“After a dungeon opened there, and until stabilization is complete—about six more months—they haven’t set a reopening date. There’s also the matter of safety inspections.

Still, it’s an F-rank dungeon that didn’t collapse, and its internal environment is good, so they’re planning to turn it into a themed attraction later.”

“…Wasn’t the dungeon there… a jungle?”

“A jungle without venomous insects, pests, or mosquitoes.”

“Whoa—that’s amazing.”

His eyes widened in surprise.

When he heard “jungle,” he pictured swamps full of crocodiles, poisonous trees whose sap could burn your skin, and swarms of insects—but apparently not.

“But wouldn’t there be lots of animals and bugs if there are many trees and plants?”

“They analyzed the trees and found natural repellents. And there used to be monkey-like monsters, but after clearing the dungeon their population dropped. It’s apparently in a strange ecological state now—no one knows how it’s sustaining itself.”

“That makes me want to visit someday.”

A bizarre place, but probably perfect for forest-bathing.

As he guided the car toward the Bukak Tunnel, Cheongmun checked the remaining distance and spoke.

“It’s fifty minutes to the destination. Should we grab coffee up ahead?”

“Uh… I’ll take a cold brew.”

Looking at the café sign in the direction Cheongmun turned, Wonhyo chose his drink.

Cheongmun pulled into the drive-through and ordered:

“One cold brew, one shakerato. Two cheese bagels. A chicken sandwich. One chocolate cookie, please.”

Wonhyo blinked—the list had suddenly grown.

He gave the man an inquisitive look.

“You didn’t eat breakfast?”

“I got off work two hours ago, so I haven’t eaten yet.”

Waiting for the drinks and food, Cheongmun answered in a tone chilled by fatigue.

So—if he didn’t want to go to work on Monday, he simply needed to finish work on Monday morning.

Watching the faint sorrow hidden in the man’s profile, Wonhyo clicked his tongue.

Their order came out quickly.

Wonhyo accepted his coffee with a grateful nod—then a chocolate cookie was handed over.

“This is for you, Yun Wonhyo-ssi. You look about as tired as I feel.”

“Oh—I was busy with laundry, sure… but nowhere near as exhausted as someone who just clocked out this morning.”

Still, since he offered, Wonhyo accepted it gratefully.

“But can you eat while driving?”

It was Monday morning, yet the streets were crowded, and it looked hard for him to take his hands off the wheel.

“Once I get on the Inner Ring Road, I’ll switch to autonomous mode.”

Well—if that was the plan, then no problem.

Even now, probably half the cars on the road were operating on self-drive, but outside bus and unmanned-taxi lanes, accident risk was higher.

Wonhyo gazed out the window at the rain slowly streaking across the glass.

The raindrops grew heavier—spring drizzle turning into a monsoon-like downpour.

The pounding of rain on the roof and windows made his ears ring.

Wonhyo peered through the sheets of water swept aside by the wipers, observing the unfamiliar neighborhood.

He had recognized the area past Jungnangcheon, but deeper in, he reached places he’d never visited—every signboard felt foreign.

After slipping past an apartment complex and turning several corners, forested foothills appeared. Turning again into a small lane full of mixed villas and houses, Cheongmun finally parked.

“Is this the place?”

“Yes.”

He pulled the car under the eaves of a brick wall and turned off the engine.

With the engine quiet, only the roar of rain remained.

For a supposed incident site, it looked utterly ordinary—a normal home in a normal neighborhood.

Judging by the old brick wall, it seemed like one of the long-standing houses anchoring the area.

“Let’s go.”

The moment the door opened, the rain pounded down like a waterfall.

Stepping out first, Cheongmun circled around with an umbrella already opened and held it out.

“Oh—thank you.”

Wonhyo had been about to open his own umbrella from his inventory but hurried out so the rain wouldn’t splash inside the car.

With one hand, Cheongmun brushed back his slightly damp hair, then angled the umbrella over them both—practically half-embracing Wonhyo as he guided him to the gate.

“No one lives here now, I guess.”

“It’s been vacant for a while.”

He peeled off an old, sun-bleached flyer and tossed it aside. Then, with practiced movements, he unlocked the gate.

Wonhyo had been about to wonder whether leaving a house empty this long wouldn’t invite troublemakers—but the thought died when he saw the familiar translucent barrier behind the gate.

When Cheongmun placed his hand on it, the cube dissolved.

Watching the once-dry front yard instantly become drenched in rain, Wonhyo carefully stepped past the gate.

 

 

• Seonnyeo-nim — Wonhyo’s patron spirit, strict about decorum and presentation