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Chapter 6
Lee Cheoeum cast a sidelong glance at Hayan through her headache.
“If I refuse his request for help here, he’ll take it as a sign that we’re done for good.”
And with that, her chance to complete the counseling log would vanish.
She’d be throwing away a god-given novice-level client.
Lee Cheoeum let out a deep sigh.
“…Still, maybe I should give it a try.”
Just one more.
Her gaze on Hayan grew sharper, thoughtful. Interpreting it in the worst way possible, Hayan stiffened like stone.
[ …So it won’t work like this, after all? Ah… maybe I could… pull out the deposit on the apartment… money, yes, money… but would money ever be enough? To cover the risk of intervening in an S-class rift…? With just money…? ]
Fragmented thoughts, close to panic, bled into her mind.
Lee Cheoeum shut off the cognitive structure analysis with a frown.
Right now, what mattered was the next question.
“…What’s your MBTI?”
Hayan blinked.
“…Pardon?”
“The personality test.”
“Right now? Here?”
“You said you’d do anything if I helped. Can’t even answer this?”
“Ah, n-no! Of course I can! I’d do anything, really, it’s just…”
Wasn’t this conversation deadly serious until a second ago? I was just crying my eyes out…
But he quickly answered, face still baffled.
“ENFP.”
“Accepted.”
Accepted?
Without explaining further, Lee Cheoeum dragged over her parked motorcycle.
“Get on.”
“You’re really… helping?”
“Don’t want me to?”
“N-no!”
Hayan’s eyes brimmed with ‘I’m grateful, but why?’ as she pulled a helmet out of the trunk.
“I needed an ENFP for my thesis interviews.”
Park Gil-dong was ESFP, after all.
The real purpose is filling in the counseling log. But if fate dropped this in my lap, I’ll squeeze every drop out of it.
Her eyes gleamed unnervingly as she revved the engine.
“I’m writing my graduation thesis.”
“….”
“On ‘Facial Hair Preferences of Modern Individuals Compared with 19th Century Psychologists’ Beards by MBTI Type.’”
….
At last, Hayan realized he had chosen the wrong person to beg for help.
The motorcycle roared as they tore through crowds evacuating from the rift.
Hayan, clinging to the back, groaned internally.
From the start, Lee Cheoeum had floored the accelerator, pulling reckless maneuvers that made his stomach churn.
But worry for his sister was greater than his nausea. He forced himself to speak through the whipping wind.
“This rift—it started from an A-class trial, ‘Rapshake’s Pride.’”
“….”
“There wasn’t much data on it. All people knew was, if you killed the ‘Prideful Reaper’ it ended. But during this clearance, someone must’ve triggered an unknown condition. It was a net. A trap.”
He bit down on his lip.
“When it bloomed into an S-class trial… the ‘Pride Adjudicator’ appeared, leading the rift.”
Despite the roar of the wind, Cheoeum caught enough and nodded.
“Your sister was one of the apostles sent in for clearance, then?”
“Yes. She stumbled out when the rift erupted, but… she’s being controlled by the Pride Adjudicator.”
“I see.”
Hayan’s voice wavered with impatience.
“The branch leader will arrive soon. We have to reach her before then.”
The branch leader of <Burim>. Cheoeum had no real knowledge of the apostle world, but even she knew the name—
“Yuseong-u.”
The man who bore the name of falling stars.
“Wouldn’t someone that strong solve everything the moment he arrives…?”
“No—!”
Screech!
The sudden shout threw Cheoeum’s steering into a sharp, brutal drift. Hayan slapped his mouth shut.
“S-sorry. But the truth is…”
“….”
“…The boss I’ve been complaining about all this time—that’s him.”
“Oh.”
Cheoeum recalled the endless grievances he’d spewed during counseling:
‘That man is a monster. Smiling while ordering cover-ups for disasters beyond belief.’
‘Prince charming? Ha! If you looked at his bank account, you’d never say that. He stockpiles poison by the ton.’
‘I hope someday when he needs a damp cloth, they’re all bone dry, and when he’s rushing somewhere, he hits five red lights in a row…’
For someone as mild as Hayan to talk like that—
“The moment he arrives, he’ll kill my sister.”
Tears quavered in his voice.
“He’ll use her as a scapegoat, cut her loose to erase all blame…”
Cheoeum frowned.
“She’s an A-class apostle. Would he discard her so easily?”
Even for a stronghold like Korea, A-class apostles were rare. Not the sort of card you threw away lightly.
“You say that only because you don’t know him.”
Hayan rubbed his face hard.
“Ever think <Burim>’s image was too clean?”
“…Hm.”
Other major branches always had scandals tied to their names. <Burim>, though… nothing.
She had assumed it was just her disinterest in apostle affairs.
“It’s his obsession with image. He’ll do anything to maintain it.”
“….”
“If a rift happens, the branch is held responsible. Even if it was a trap, even if casualties are low—the fact it occurred brands us incompetent.”
And this one was S-class. Alone, that could shatter <Burim>’s spotless image.
“Now imagine an A-class apostle under <Burim>’s banner being mind-controlled to attack civilians.”
The damage would be permanent.
The only way out was to show decisive, merciless action—like the branch leader himself executing the controlled apostle.
“My sister…”
“I understand.”
Cheoeum cut him off.
In other words, his boss was the kind of man who’d use blood as bleach.
Screech—!
The bike skidded to a halt at the edge of the evacuation barrier.
“Hayan! Where were you?!”
A <Burim> apostle rushed out from behind the shimmering shield.
“Is the branch leader coming?!”
“Well…”
He was just about to explain when—
Scratch, scratch.
A pen moved across the pages of Hayan’s Toledoth.
+
<Branch Leader>
: On my way. 🙂
+
“-Aaaaagh! Damn it! He says he’s coming now!”
As Hayan turned, panicked, Cheoeum calmly slipped her arm around his chest, pressing firmly against his solar plexus.
“Let’s finalize our agreement first.”
“[This is the sign of the covenant between you and me.]”
A sheet from his Toledoth fluttered into view.
The apostles’ way of making promises—covenants.
Through words woven into spells, souls could be bound together, so long as both parties bore a Toledoth.
Cheoeum whispered her terms.
“You will not reveal me to others, and you will continue counseling with sincerity. In return, I will do my utmost to free your sister from the mind control of the mental-type calamity.”
Her pale finger pressed right into the center of his chest.
In ancient times, a covenant meant walking between the halves of a slain animal—declaring, ‘If I break this vow, may I be split like this beast.’
This was a small echo of that ritual.
[If the covenant is broken, all authority weakens for three days.]
A minor punishment, but enough to give weight to the words.
Hayan felt a sharp pang where she pressed, like pain laced with truth.
“…That’s really all you ask?”
For the first time, he wondered—was this woman truly willing to risk herself for a stranger’s sibling? Was she… some secret hero in the shadows?
“Oh, and also: you must complete the MBTI-and-beard-style interview.”
…Or maybe she just lacked common sense altogether.
“Do you swear it?”
[Do you accept the covenant?]
Her hazy eyes gave away nothing. Hayan swallowed and nodded heavily.
“…I swear.”
[The covenant has been bound.]
[Your soul is now faintly tethered to another.]
Blue script etched itself across the book’s pages, and a subtle weight coiled around his body like a chain.
