TBNFD13

Chapter 13

“Is it the largest inn in this village you’re talking about?”

“That’s right. The boy they called Gaehjuk—an orphan the innkeeper had taken in and raised… His death has hit the innkeeper very hard.”

Sayeol momentarily recalled the young server who had guided her earlier that day. So he was the one who’d been killed. She let out a quiet sigh, then slowly rose to her feet.

Her movement was silent—ghostlike.

“There’s something I need to confirm.”

As she prepared to head out, Wol rose as though it were only natural. Sayeol gently pushed Sohwa, who had also tried to stand, back into her seat and ordered her to stay put.

“But young miss, how can you go alone?”

“What a strange thing to ask.”

“Young miss can’t do anything without me.”

At this point, even Sayeol was speechless. Well, it wasn’t entirely wrong—not in the past—so she didn’t bother arguing. Instead, she simply signaled quietly to Hwayoung, who promptly restrained Sohwa. Sohwa protested noisily, but Sayeol ignored her and spoke to Geum Sangho.

“Let’s go.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you.”

He glanced briefly at Wol. In truth, the help he had hoped for were the black-clad men who had escorted the carriage and this man named Wol. No matter how much martial arts this young lady had learned, she was still only in her teens—how much could she possibly do?

But when he had finally come to seek help, the black-clad men were nowhere to be seen, and only Wol remained. Cleaned up from his ragged state, Wol looked dependable enough, but this young lady was not part of his plans.

Guarding such a young miss must be troublesome indeed.

Thinking this, Geum Sangho took the lead as if guiding Sayeol and Wol, continuing the rest of his story. At first, he hadn’t assumed the culprit behind the corpses was anything supernatural. Peaceful times did not mean that monsters or strange criminals no longer existed.

But then… a witness appeared who had seen the moment the blacksmith, Ho, was killed. After hearing his description, it was impossible to believe the culprit was human—no matter how dark the night had been.

“They say it appeared to be a woman about six cheok tall.”

“A woman?” Wol asked, and Geum Sangho nodded.

“She was wearing shabby women’s clothes, and a red bridal veil over her face. And…”

His face grew pale.

“She was holding a long pair of scissors in one hand.”

“Scissors?”

“Yes. The sight was so bizarre that when they went to check the place she had vanished from… they found Blacksmith Ho collapsed there, and his mouth…”

He closed his mouth, unable to finish. A tall woman, veiled, wandering around wielding a bizarre pair of oversized scissors—any ordinary person would immediately assume she was a ghost.

No, there was unmistakably the scent of a spirit. From the start, the reason Sayeol had gone to the local landowner’s residence was related to this as well. She assumed Wol was accompanying her for the same reason.

He must have known it too. Even before reaching the village, the stench of the supernatural hung thick in the air. And now that she had awakened… the fact that a ghost was active pointed to a single truth.

He has awakened.

Ma Wolhu—that one.

Sayeol stepped out into the now fully darkened village streets. There were still lights burning in several houses and inns besides the torches held by Geum Sangho and his household members.

Despite the late hour, a crowd was gathered in the alley beside the inn, murmuring anxiously. The air was heavy with the sounds of people retching, clucking their tongues, and sobbing—all tangled together like a feverish nightmare.

“Oh dear Gaehjuk… What is this…!”

An elderly woman wailed over the death of the young server, with an old man supporting her as she cried. The boy’s corpse, known as Gaehjuk, had been loosely covered with a layer of woven straw, almost like a crude shroud.

“Please step aside for a moment.”

When Geum Sangho spoke, the old man helped the grieving woman stand. Sayeol and Wol approached the body. At Sayeol’s nod, Wol naturally lifted away the tangle of straw.

“Heavens…”

“Urgh…”

Gasps of horror erupted around them.

“We will handle this. Everyone, please return home. It could become dangerous.”

At Geum Sangho’s words, the villagers nodded and slowly dispersed, drifting off in small groups into the night. Truly, wandering alone on a night like this was ill-advised. While he sent the villagers away, Sayeol gestured for one of the Geum servants to bring the lantern closer.

The man hesitated, fear evident, but eventually stepped forward. The lantern light fell fully upon the boy’s face, revealing a sight ghastly enough to justify the crowd’s terror.

His mouth had been slit open on both sides all the way down to the jaw. Blood drenched his chin, and his eyes were twisted in agony. Torn skin, exposed flesh, snapped muscle—his bright red gums and teeth were smeared in crimson.

“Horrific…”

Geum Sangho, who had returned after seeing the others off, covered his mouth with his sleeve, looking sick. He also bore several deep gashes on his face—likely inflicted by that long pair of scissors.

It must have been difficult to cut the mouth so cleanly in a single attempt.

“Any other information?”

Wol asked while examining the corpse. Geum Sangho thought for a moment before answering, as memory stirred faintly.

“The witness said he followed the sound of clanking metal. That’s why he went that way.”

“Metal?” Wol asked.

“Yes. A sort of clank, clank sound…”

Wol looked at Sayeol, and Sayeol looked back. Blue eyes met yellow for a brief moment before they both turned forward once more. Sayeol asked:

“What did you do with the bodies?”

“Ah, we buried them all properly on a sunny patch at the village outskirts.”

“I see. Have your laborers dig them up.”

“…What?”

Geum Sangho’s eyes went wide.

“Why exhume the dead again?”

“They were attacked by a spirit. You cannot simply bury them.”

“What?”

“Go bring animal blood, straw rope, and salt.”

“Y–yes, at once…!”

When Geum Sangho and his people left, a cold wind swept through, stirring Sayeol’s white hair like a caress.

Whoo—.

Feeling the chill carried on that wind, Sayeol murmured slowly:

“A familiar scent indeed.”

Geum Sangho returned with animal blood, straw rope, and salt, only to find that Sayeol and Wol were already at the village outskirts without being told. They had also brought Gaehjuk’s body, laying it beside the graves. In the darkness, the nearby grave mounds looked unnaturally blackened.

“What… what happened here?”

“A corpse touched by a spirit is quick to become one itself. Now—open it.”

“O–open the grave!”

“Yes!”

Geum Sangho’s workers dug up the grave, eventually prying open the old nailed coffin. The moment they saw what was inside, one worker let out a shriek and fell backward.

“H–his eyes—they’re open!”

Worse yet, the eyes had turned entirely black, as dark as pitch. The soul devoured by the spirit was clearly clinging to the corpse. It had not yet fully taken control of the body, so they needed to act quickly.

“Lay the bodies side by side, and paint a circle of animal blood around them.”

Shaak, chaaak—!

The trembling workers moved the corpses into a nearby storage shed and laid them out. Then they drew a blood circle and planted stakes at the four directions, stringing straw rope between them to form a ward.

“When the true spirit is destroyed, these lesser manifestations will naturally vanish. Leave them like this.”