TFN C95

Chapter 95

Wonhyo tapped lightly on the cube wall protecting him.

“Think it’ll show up?”

“It will.”

Cheongmun replied with unwavering certainty—rock-solid, unshakable.

Wonhyo worried for a moment—what if no trace of the curse turned up after all that confidence?

But realistically, it was impossible for there to be nothing.

If the scanners didn’t detect anything, that meant technology hadn’t caught up to reality yet—

Not that the phenomenon itself was false.

While waiting—knowing mana resonance testing wouldn’t take long—he pulled out his talismans and tucked them away inside his jacket.

There would come another day when each one would be precious, and it would be far worse to be unable to use them at the crucial moment.

He handed several to Cheongmun.

“These are for your team.”

Since he gave some regularly to Cheongmun, he knew exactly how many he carried—but the others didn’t.

Cheongmun accepted the talismans gratefully.

“Shall I give them salt, too?”

“They’ll be pleased.”

A short laugh escaped him.

While the detectives glared through clenched teeth and barely contained frustration, the first test concluded, and the youngest, Administrator Nam, appeared outside the villa.

“Team Leader!”

Without even looking around, he ran straight toward Cheongmun, drawing every officer’s attention.

Wonhyo lowered his gaze slightly when he noticed the Dongdaemun detectives who had summoned him.

Cheongmun casually kept one hand in his pocket and turned his body toward Nam’s report.

“How did it look?”

“There were three wave signatures—one of them matched over ninety percent.”

“Three…”

Wonhyo’s ears twitched. That sounded serious.

“And,” Nam lowered his voice almost to a whisper,

“The strongest one matches the cursed item we found in the last case. The other two come from different skills. They don’t show up in the five-year reference range. If we want to match them outside the timeframe, we’ll need to return to the Agency.”

“Understood.”

At his nod, Cheongmun snapped his fingers—the cube around Wonhyo floated gently upward.

“Then let’s head in.”

Wonhyo couldn’t bring himself to lift his gaze from the ground.

“Couldn’t we… do it like this from the entrance?”

He felt too exposed drifting through the air in front of everyone, so he voiced his discomfort.

Cheongmun tilted his head.

“As far as we know, the exact boundary where the malevolent energy starts hasn’t been confirmed. This way is safer, isn’t it?”

“…True.”

Forget everyone’s eyes—this was a matter of survival.

He let out a resigned sigh and agreed.

Thankfully, Cheongmun thickened the wall of the cube so the inside was hidden from view.

“We’re moving.”

As he drifted along under Cheongmun’s gesture, Wonhyo fixed his eyes straight ahead and pretended not to notice all the stares.

Once inside—well, suspended above the floor, technically—

Wonhyo clicked his tongue as he looked around the room.

“So he really was cursed.”

If he could feel this energy directly without protection, he would have broken into a full shamanic rite on the spot.

“What exactly does ‘cursed’ mean here?”

“Oh—killing intent. Malicious intent.

Usually people just call it ‘cursing someone.’ But I use the term sal-chinda—to ‘put a killing curse.’

“It’s not some elaborate ritual—

Just people saying things like ‘I hope that person fails,’ or ‘I hope that shop goes under.’

Most of that doesn’t do anything, but when someone uses spiritual force to inflict harm, I call that sal.”

Wonhyo narrowed his eyes.

“The item from the last case—rather than saying it ‘created a vengeful spirit,’ it’s more like…

Well, the perpetrator didn’t press the dead man’s spirit down to kill the victim.

The spirit became a vengeful entity first, and that entity killed the victim.

“But this time…”

He looked down at the corpse on the floor.

Even in death, the man’s lips were twisted upward in grotesque pleasure.

“The spell targeted this person. It took hold.”

“So he wasn’t killed just by a cursed item,” Cheongmun murmured.

Administrator Kim raised his hand.

“So you’re saying someone wanted this victim dead—and that someone was capable of creating or using the cursed item we saw before?”

Wonhyo blinked.

“Uh… yes.”

Unit 1 members exchanged glances.

“Alright. Let’s scrape up everything—everything we can find.”

Watching their enthusiasm for evidence collection, Wonhyo felt uneasy.

How exactly did one collect physical evidence of a killing curse?

They were going to be disappointed if all that effort turned up nothing.

“Hey, isn’t Cheongmun in there?”

“What? Sir, you can’t—!”

A sudden commotion from the entrance made Wonhyo turn.

Administrator Nam’s voice, normally stiff and polite, snapped sharply as he scolded someone entering without permission.

Beside him, Cheongmun flicked his eyes toward the noise.

“They were dragging their feet upstairs—I thought they wouldn’t come down. But here they are.”

“If we don’t show our faces, we’ll lose the case. At least if we barge in, we have something to say.”

It seemed everyone already knew who the troublemaker was—no one looked surprised.

Wonhyo glanced at Cheongmun.

Beneath the man’s calm expression simmered a faint sense of irritation—or perhaps simple weariness.

Someone he didn’t get along with, perhaps?

Administrator Nam silently sought instruction with a questioning look.

Cheongmun waved a hand—let them in.

As Nam stepped aside, a noisy group shoved their way into the entrance.

The room wasn’t large; two men entered and almost bumped into each other.

Then one stepped forward.

“Lee Cheongmun.”

The man who called his name carried himself with exaggerated arrogance.

Wonhyo squinted at him—

and immediately disliked him even more.

Not only had he barged in, but his face naturally radiated hostility.

“Don’t let him in,” Wonhyo whispered quickly—loud enough for only Cheongmun to hear.

Cheongmun raised an eyebrow and stepped forward.

“And you are?”

The man let out a derisive laugh.

“What? You don’t know me? I’m Bae Yongpyo, Central District Prosecutor.”

Cheongmun’s expression remained unimpressed—almost bored.

The prosecutor’s face twisted.

“Forget it. Whatever.

Special Affairs—get out.

Who do you think you are, barging into my crime scene without permission?”

Cheongmun sighed.

“This is a crime involving a cursed item. Mana traces were found. Naturally, it falls under our jurisdiction.”

“Cursed item?”

Bae scoffed loudly, as if hearing nonsense.

The people behind him laughed as well.

Wonhyo felt a flush of discomfort surge up from his gut.

A wave of emotion that wasn’t his own clawed up his ribs—disgust, anger—tightening around his insides.

At least he didn’t feel nauseous.

But his throat began to itch—sharply.

As if something would burst out unless he held it back.

He bit his lip as the group’s mocking gazes suddenly fixed onto him.

“You’re not seriously listening to this shaman bastard, are you?”

Wonhyo blinked, bewildered.

What did I do? I was just standing here.

He had been summoned by the police—

So why were they using him to attack Cheongmun?

They clearly misunderstood something.

The itching in his throat worsened.

Bae moved—appearing beside him in an instant, close enough that if not for the cube he would have collided into Wonhyo.

Even with the barrier, his presence was suffocating.

Wonhyo stared him down.

“…Do not come inside.”

He whispered it—barely a breath—

But Unit 1 members looked back at him anyway.

All of them had annoyingly sharp hearing.

Still, he didn’t break eye contact with the prosecutor.

He raised his hand sharply.

“Leave.”

If that malicious aura contaminated the crime scene, the traces of the dead would be swallowed up completely.

His stomach heaved with discomfort; he bit down harder on his lip, struggling to keep control.

Then Bae pointed at him and shouted,

“Evidence from a scene has to be real. You’re trusting nonsense from this fraud? You’re Special Affairs—don’t you know what scientific forensics is?!

Get your junk out of here before you contaminate the scene further.

If this causes any issues, we’re not letting it slide.”

…Let me… chase… that thing…

A whisper throbbed through Wonhyo’s ears—buzzing like it came from deep inside him.

He looked past Unit 1 and the prosecutors, toward the police officers who knew why he had been summoned.

Their faces twisted in awkward concern—they kept signaling at him:

Stop.

Speak.

Don’t speak.

Be quiet.

He didn’t know what they wanted.

But he knew one thing—

After tonight, he would never work with the Dongdaemun detectives again.

He had gone all the way to the detention center to show them the truth with his own eyes.

Reports must have already gone up.

Yet they still reacted like this—

They weren’t worth helping.

His power always demanded a price.

People swallowed him when they wanted something and spat him out the moment he became inconvenient.

He refused to deal with those who saw him as disposable.

As Bae pushed forward again, trying to force his way into the room, the malice in the air grew unbearable.

Wonhyo’s breath snagged painfully in his chest.

The curse in the room and the hostility Bae brought in tangled together—

It was suffocating.

Bae turned to shout at his subordinates,

“What are you all doing? Clear the scene! Throw out every unnecessary person!

Starting with that shaman bastard—get him out of my sight.

What does that scammer even know? Trash who can’t even take care of himself—”

“A man who cheated for his law degree has a lot to say with that loud mouth of yours.”

The voice poured out of Wonhyo’s throat—sharp and unrestrained.

Cheongmun whipped his head toward him.

footnote

1. Sal-chinda (살 친다) shamanic term referring to directing harmful spiritual force toward someone; roughly “to send a killing curse”