The Night Of The Untraced

By now, the campus, nearing summer, was filled with lively energy. Although it couldn’t compare to the excitement during the festival, everyone seemed more upbeat than usual. Half of the students were stumbling around, exhausted, while the other half walked with a spring in their step. Yet, a sense of freshness was evident on every face.

“Ah, it’s finally over.”

Jinwoo stretched as he walked across the bustling campus. Beside him were his classmates, including Seungjoo and Seohyun. As usual, Jinwoo draped an arm over Seungjoo’s shoulder, letting his body sag as he complained.

“This was so hard… Why can’t I remember anything even though I studied?”

It was the day the sociology final exam ended. Some students still had exams left, but Seungjoo and his friends had finished all their subjects and were on their way home. It was also the start of summer break, though it didn’t seem to have fully sunk in yet.

“How did you do, Seungjoo?”

“Just okay.”

“I bet you did well. I know you. You’re always so diligent.”

Jinwoo grumbled as if annoyed, not really expecting an answer. His tone was playful, so Seungjoo just chuckled lightly in response.

“If you’re jealous, you should’ve studied harder.”

“Whatever. I think I prefer assignments over exams.”

Jinwoo, who had missed a group project meeting earlier, had later gone to see the same play as Seungjoo. The three of them had completed the discussion together, and the assignment had turned out pretty well. Although Jinwoo had kept insisting that he preferred exams over assignments, now that the exams were over, it was clear his mind had changed.

“But at least this time, Choi Jinwoo didn’t miss the back page, right?”

“Wait… There was a back page?”

Jinwoo froze at the comment from one of his classmates and asked nervously. The scene felt oddly familiar, and Seungjoo couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Even as he chuckled, he made sure to reassure the now-pale Jinwoo.

“Hey, don’t worry. There wasn’t a back page.”

“Oh, you jerk!”

Laughter erupted from all directions. Even Jinwoo, who had shouted in panic, couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. After a good laugh, Jinwoo suddenly turned to Seungjoo and asked.

“By the way, you’re coming for drinks later, right?”

“…”

Seungjoo’s laughter abruptly stopped. As he averted his gaze, Jinwoo looked at him with disbelief. Seungjoo raised his eyebrows and responded with an awkward smile.

“Sorry, I have plans.”

“No way!”

Simultaneously, boos erupted from Jinwoo and the other classmates. They teased him, calling him a truly busy guy, predicting they wouldn’t see him at all during the break, and even mock-threatening that it wouldn’t be fun if he kept this up.

“How did you know? I’m going to be really busy during the break.”

But Seungjoo wasn’t one to back down easily. He replied nonchalantly without batting an eye. His response was so confidently cheeky that even Seohyun, who had been quietly listening, widened her eyes in surprise.

“Why? Are you getting a part-time job?”

“Well…”

By now, the front gate was in sight. Seungjoo instinctively looked around for someone and gently removed Jinwoo’s hand from his shoulder. It wasn’t exactly a part-time job, but in terms of helping out with work, it was somewhat similar, though it didn’t involve any financial gain.

“It’s something like that.”

‘I’ll give it a try, then.’

It had already been over a week since Seungjoo and Seohyun had gone to see the play, where they encountered a sparrow-like Gwimae. His spiritual vision still hadn’t closed, and the scene he had witnessed that day remained vivid in his mind. Kim Muheun, who had stood behind him, the black mass before him, and all the overwhelming memories that had flooded him when he touched the Gwimae.

‘Would it create space if we cut down all the trees here?’

‘Then the nest above would disappear.’

‘Well, we have to clear this area anyway, so it can’t be helped.’

The birth of the Gwimae, like the goldfish before it, was essentially a man-made disaster. The mountain was cut down, and the trees were felled, destroying the lush greenery in an instant. The birds lost their homes, and the damaged nature eventually transformed into a vengeful spirit.

The regret of not being able to escape, even with wings, turned it into a sparrow. As its anger deepened, its body swelled, and by the time it regained consciousness, it had grown so large it couldn’t be controlled. Eventually, it became too big to fly, and in its frustration, it would sometimes bury its head in the ground.

The memories that flashed by like a panorama abruptly stopped at one point. The last thing Seungjoo saw was a masked Gwimae hunter, so he realized that this was the void of time when the Gwimae had been sealed.

It seemed as if the Gwimae was sinking into a restful slumber, but unfortunately, a disruptor appeared to wake it from its sleep.

‘…Are we really going to do this?’

The muttering voices were heard, wavering in and out. The constant noise was irritating, but in the pitch-black darkness, nothing was visible. In that state, all the Gwimae could do was listen to the voices it could hear.

‘There’s no turning back now. We have to do it.’

‘But still…’

The hesitant voice was followed by harsh rebukes, telling them not to be weak and that it was too late to turn back. Eventually, there were even comforting words, full of understanding. After all the persuasion and excuses, a sigh filled with frustration was heard.

‘As you know, this is the only way to verify.’

‘…But there are too many people here…’

What exactly were they trying to verify? Whatever it was, it must have been something significant to disturb its sleep like this. It would have been better if they had just finished quickly and left, but unfortunately, their opinions were not easily reconciled.

‘If we re-seal it before it regains its strength…’

‘…’

He didn’t hear what response followed those words. All he knew was that soon after, his vision flipped, and the crushing pressure on his body disappeared completely. It felt like being pulled out of deep water, with his mind snapping back to clarity in an instant.

‘…It’s done.’

The low muttering wasn’t important. What mattered was the frustration and anger surging up from deep within as he struggled to regain his senses. The burning sensation in his chest and the overwhelming anxiety began to consume his reason.

Hadn’t Muheun said it was like being irritated when you’re woken up from sleep? The restraints that had bound him so tightly were like a blanket, and the sudden freedom that had been thrust upon him was anything but welcome. The days of wandering aimlessly were loathsome, yet he found himself repeating the same process without knowing why.

To make matters worse, his body, which had been asleep for so long, wouldn’t obey him easily. He couldn’t even take a single step, let alone spread his wings. He stumbled and collapsed multiple times. When he finally managed to lift his head, he saw two figures wearing hats.

‘First… them…’

He couldn’t see their faces clearly, but he recognized the energy they emitted. The intense chill radiating from them was unmistakably the spiritual power of exorcists.

After that, his memories became hazy again. His consciousness kept flickering, and whenever he managed to hold on to it, all he could feel was excruciating pain. It felt like something was violently tearing through his insides, or as if his entire body was on fire, burning endlessly.

‘Damn, it’s not working…’

The pain was just enough to keep him alive. He desperately wished he could just pass out. Why hadn’t they just left him asleep? Why hadn’t they just left him alone? If this was going to happen, they shouldn’t have touched him at all. These resentful thoughts rose along with the pain.

‘…I can’t do this anymore.’

The spiritual pressure that had been choking him only disappeared when one of the exorcists spoke up. He saw them arguing, but once again, there was nothing he could do. He just lay there with his head on the ground, waiting endlessly for this moment to pass.

Whether it was fortunate or not, they soon packed up everything and left in the blink of an eye. The bushes, where distant voices had been heard, were now silent, with no one coming by after they had gone. His small body slowly grew larger, and he finally started wandering around on two legs.

That’s when he realized: he had been born unintentionally, but now he had no place to return to and was completely lost. His lifespan was terribly long, but there was no way left to control this anger and resentment.

Yes, until someone found him and shared in his injustice.

‘…!’

When Seungjoo opened his eyes, he was in Muheun’s arms. The Gwimae that had been in front of him was gone without a trace, and Muheun’s eyes, gazing down at him, were more serious than ever. Seungjoo, gasping for breath with tears welling up, barely managed to grasp Muheun’s collar.

‘…Hyung.’

He finally opened his mouth, but no words came out. He now understood the words the goldfish-like Gwimae had said to him.

You, instead of me…

He now understood the part he hadn’t heard back then.

It was a desperate plea asking him to bear the pain in its place.

Seungjoo was carried by Muheun back to his car, and they returned home together. Normally, Seungjoo would have refused, saying there was no need to be carried, but his legs had no strength, so he had no choice. Every time he tried to stand, he would just collapse, so it was less exhausting to simply let Muheun carry him.

Muheun didn’t say a word the entire way home, focusing solely on driving. The atmosphere was so heavy that even though Seungjoo hadn’t done anything wrong, he felt like he needed to watch his behavior. Muheun eventually noticed Seungjoo’s unease and made an effort to soften his expression, but the tension lingered.

They didn’t find his phone. The restaurant was closed, and neither of them had the mental capacity to search for it. Instead, Seungjoo used Muheun’s phone to call his parents. “I’m going to stay at Muheun-hyung’s place tonight.” Even as Seungjoo said that, Muheun didn’t utter a single word.

Seungjoo understood. He’d shown Muheun how much he was suffering several times in just one day, so it was no wonder the sensitive Muheun was deeply affected. It was probably a miracle that he was able to keep his face expressionless.

Once they got home, it was only natural that Seungjoo took the bedroom. Muheun gave him some clothes to change into and made sure Seungjoo was settled in bed. He checked on Seungjoo’s condition one more time, then left the bedroom with just these words:

‘Get some sleep first… We’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘…’

Seungjoo couldn’t bring himself to stop Muheun and ask to talk now. As soon as Muheun turned off the lights, Seungjoo fell into a deep sleep. Honestly, from the moment he regained consciousness, he’d felt unusually exhausted. His eyes kept drooping, and by the time they were halfway home, he was nodding off in the car. After all, he had coughed up blood; it would have been stranger if his body were in good condition.

The next morning, Seungjoo woke up more refreshed than ever and ate the breakfast Muheun prepared for him. Muheun went to the restaurant alone after breakfast to retrieve Seungjoo’s phone. Although Seungjoo offered to go with him, Muheun just chuckled and handed him some ice cream instead.

‘…I didn’t see the faces of the people who broke the seal.’

Finally, when they were sitting on the sofa together, Seungjoo got straight to the point. Since he had interfered with the Gwimae against Muheun’s advice, he felt it was only right to report the outcome.

‘There were two of them, both wearing hats. One was a woman, and the other was a man.’

Just as Muheun had said, the exorcists had concealed their faces with hats. If they had encountered them in person, he might have seen them vaguely, but unfortunately, the Gwimae’s vision wasn’t very clear.

‘They were talking about checking something… but I didn’t catch the details.’

Though Seungjoo had confidently claimed he would find out more, he had little to show for it. Embarrassed, he avoided eye contact, but Muheun showed no reaction. Seungjoo glanced at him nervously and asked,

‘What happened to the Gwimae?’

This had been weighing on his mind the whole time he ate his ice cream. No matter how much he tried to recall, he couldn’t remember the Gwimae’s final moments. Since he hadn’t felt its presence after a certain point, he assumed that Muheun must have sealed it. When he asked, Muheun finally began to speak slowly.

‘Seungjoo, you…’

For a long moment, nothing followed. Muheun stared intently at Seungjoo with eyes so dark they seemed to draw him in. Finally, when the weight of his gaze had sunk deep, Muheun’s lips moved, and he spoke in a low voice.

‘You purified it.’

‘What?’

At first, Seungjoo couldn’t understand what he meant. Purified? That was something he had never imagined.

Muheun closed his eyes tightly, then reopened them, speaking in a calmer tone.

‘You absorbed the Gwimae’s grudge and returned it to nature.’

‘…Absorbed what?’

‘The grudge… more precisely, the negative energy. Then you released it.’

‘Me?’

‘Yeah, you.’

‘…’

Seungjoo was stunned. He wanted to ask, “Why me?” but he knew it was a meaningless question. No one alive could answer that.

‘This isn’t just a guess; it’s a certainty.’

Muheun spoke with a calm voice, driving the point home. If Muheun was saying it like this, there was no point in denying it.

‘…Hyung.’

Seungjoo quickly reached a conclusion and called out to Muheun. Even though he felt like he’d been hit on the back of the head, he was surprisingly able to think clearly. He could now understand why Muheun had been so distressed, why he still looked so worried.

‘They’ll find out at the Association, won’t they?’

Hadn’t Muheun mentioned it before? That there were already various speculations about the Seo family circulating in the Association. If the new faction was keeping such a close watch on him, the Association would surely be doing the same.

‘…’

Muheun didn’t answer, but his reaction was as good as confirmation. Seungjoo remained silent for a moment before letting out a small sigh. All he wanted was to live a normal life, so having to say this felt extremely complicated.

‘Then I might as well tell them first.’

The ability that had been carefully hidden within the family was discovered—Muheun’s power. Although he didn’t hear the full story, Seungjoo only knew that a lot had happened concerning the Gwihan Spirit. If it was something that would eventually come to light anyway, it might be better to take the initiative.

Of course, the frustration that had been building up played a part in his decision too.

‘I’ll talk to them and ask for help.’

It was impossible to live like this forever just because it was dangerous, and Muheun’s efforts had their limits as well. In fact, the lack of people approaching them made them increasingly complacent. It would have been better if they could at least ask, “What do you want?” but since they didn’t know who their opponents were, there was no way to initiate contact.

‘Surely the Association wants to catch those guys too.’

So, wouldn’t it be better to ask for the Association’s cooperation? Since they were already investigating the reason why the seals were breaking, the Association must have noticed the movements of the new faction. In that case, revealing his abilities and trying to negotiate might be a good approach.

Moreover, even though he hadn’t seen their faces, there was definitely a way to find the culprits.

‘I know their spiritual energy.’

Each spiritualist has a unique energy, and that applies to the exorcists who broke the seal on the Gwihan Spirit as well. Through the Gwihan Spirit’s memories, Seungjoo had distinctly sensed their spiritual energy.

‘If I see them in person, I can pick them out. So…’

‘No.’

But before Seungjoo could finish, Muheun firmly cut him off. When Seungjoo frowned, Muheun softened his voice and gently whispered.

‘No, Seungjoo.’

‘…’

If Muheun had been stern, it might have been easier to argue, but the way he pleaded left Seungjoo at a loss for words. It didn’t help that Muheun’s eyes softened, making it even harder to resist.

‘I may be affiliated with the Association, but that doesn’t mean I trust them. There’s no guarantee they’ll keep you safe.’

Muheun calmly tried to persuade Seungjoo with his usual gentle tone, though the underlying emotion was clearly anxiety.

‘The Association doesn’t use Muheun’s abilities because they’ve made a serious mistake. Your mother and your parents intervened as well.’

Seungjoo had some idea. He knew that the Association had taken a step back after nearly causing serious harm to Muheun and Hwanyeong due to their negligence. That’s why Kim Muheun was able to live a normal life as an exorcist, without needing to use his purification abilities.

‘Do you know how many Gwihan Spirits the Association will ask you to purify if they find out?’

‘…’

‘You’re not going to agree to all of that, are you?’

Of course not. Seungjoo wasn’t the type to make such sacrifices. Even if he impulsively said he would, it was obvious that both Muheun and his family would strongly oppose it.

‘It’s a problem that will be resolved once your spiritual sight closes. So there’s no need to act first.’

In the end, nothing had changed. Even though they had discovered his ability and understood the situation, there was nothing they could do. Muheun seemed to want Seungjoo to remain quietly uninvolved, as if nothing had happened.

‘…You know that’s not true.’

But there was only so much he could ignore. Seungjoo was good at avoiding things, but only when it didn’t affect him or those around him. It’s easy to watch a fire from across the river, but if the house next door is burning, that’s a different story.

‘My spiritual sight could open at any time. It’s not like before when we didn’t know about my condition.’

His spiritual sight had opened just from inhaling a bit of cigarette smoke. Saying that it would be resolved once it closed implied that the problem would resurface if it opened again. There was no way to predict when, where, or how it might happen, so it was impossible to stay complacent.

‘You can’t protect me forever.’

‘…’

As soon as those words left his mouth, Muheun’s expression turned cold. For a moment, Seungjoo felt a pang of regret, but he forced himself to maintain a neutral expression. It wasn’t something he said out of anger, nor did he think it was a mistake.

‘I don’t want to live my life under constant surveillance.’

It might have sounded childish, but it was the most plausible excuse he could come up with. It wasn’t entirely a lie, and to Muheun, it was likely the most convincing reason. It was far better than saying things like he didn’t want to make his brother tired or that he didn’t want to be a burden anymore—words tinged with guilt.

However, Muheun didn’t respond to that either. Instead, his dark eyes momentarily grew unfocused. When he stared into space like that, it was a habit that showed whenever he glimpsed the future.

Who knows how much time passed, but eventually, Muheun’s lips moved slowly.

‘…Even so, no.’

‘Ah, hyung.’

Seungjoo let out an irritated sigh without meaning to. Muheun wasn’t usually this stubborn. The more he kept saying no, the more resistance Seungjoo felt. Muheun never fully explained anything, and he seemed to hide more than he revealed.

Why was he being so frustrating?

Seungjoo could understand why Muheun didn’t tell him what he saw in the future. Seungjoo never intended to ask, anyway. It was an unspoken rule in both families that speaking of unfulfilled futures was taboo because it was believed to bring bad luck.

But in that case, shouldn’t Muheun give a more convincing reason? Whatever plans he had, it wasn’t right to exclude Seungjoo, the one directly involved. If he were completely ignorant, it might be different, but now that he had some understanding, it was even more unacceptable.

‘You know this isn’t something I need your permission for, right?’

As Seungjoo spoke firmly, Muheun’s eyes twitched. He probably already knew that too.

Seungjoo was the sole heir of the Seo family, which supported the exorcist association, and one of the few people who could contact the association despite being an ordinary person. A single phone call could summon several high-ranking officials to come and fetch him.

‘I understand what you’re saying, but if that’s the case, you should at least offer another solution.’

Without addressing the root cause, nothing would change. While it might be true that the association isn’t safe, Seungjoo couldn’t shake the feeling that Muheun’s opposition wasn’t solely because of that. Just like Seungjoo had done, Muheun was likely giving the most plausible excuse he could think of.

‘I’m not telling you this to ask for permission. Once my spiritual sight closes, I’ll ask my family to assign me a bodyguard, and after that, you won’t have to be with me anymore.’

The problem resolved by closing his spiritual sight was only that minor. Muheun would no longer need to follow Seungjoo around. Though, it was uncertain how long that situation would last.

‘But what if my spiritual sight opens again? What will you do then?’

Even without experiencing it firsthand, Seungjoo could see it clearly. Initially, Muheun might act like he’s stepping back, but once Seungjoo’s spiritual sight reopened, he would inevitably hover around him again. If that happened, the same conflicts as now would arise.

‘Do you even intend to keep your distance from me?’

‘…Seungjoo.’

‘No, seriously.’

As he spoke, emotions welled up inside him. Was it only that they shouldn’t kiss anymore? He had declared that he wouldn’t get involved, but nothing had really changed, and that frustrated him. He hadn’t intended to say this, but all the pent-up frustration and sadness burst out together.

‘To be honest, I just want to resolve this quickly and go back to how things were.’

It would be a lie to say he didn’t have personal feelings driving his desire to resolve things quickly. This entire situation was suffocating and frustrating, leaving a scar in his heart. Initially, he just felt sorry, but now, he was starting to feel resentment.

‘Let’s just meet once every six months.’

‘…’

‘I can’t keep seeing you like this.’

Those words were the most sincere he had spoken so far. Although he had tried to act indifferent, Seungjoo was the one struggling the most. He had endured out of guilt, pretended to be okay to avoid worrying others, and acted composed to avoid appearing immature.

‘…’

‘…’

For a while, they just silently exchanged glances. Seungjoo thought the emotions in Muheun’s eyes were incredibly complex. He had never been one to show his feelings openly, but lately, it had become even harder to read him.

Finally, after some time, Muheun spoke in a self-deprecating voice.

‘…First, focus on your final exams.’

‘…’

‘Let’s talk again after the exams.’

It was probably something he said to dodge the situation. Or maybe he was trying to buy time to think. It wasn’t typical of Muheun, and Seungjoo had no intention of accepting it.

But the reason he let it go was because Muheun seemed so unstable while saying it. No, to be precise, he had been like that ever since Seungjoo purified the Giwhan Spirit. He was speaking normally, but it felt like he might explode if pushed too far.

‘…You promised.’

After that day, Seungjoo didn’t bring up anything related to that matter again. Instead, he focused on studying for his exams, and Muheun didn’t show any unusual behavior either. Except for the occasional moments when he would stare blankly into space or silently look away after catching Seungjoo’s gaze.

“So, we won’t see each other all summer?”

When Jinwoo asked, Seungjoo remained silent for a moment. Standing at the front gate, as usual, was the familiar figure. Among the people already wearing short sleeves, he was the only one still dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt.

“Probably not…”

Even if Muheun didn’t want him to tell the association, Seungjoo still intended to catch the culprits. Soon, his spiritual sight would close, and he planned to discuss hiring bodyguards with his parents. He was willing to cooperate in any way he could, hoping to resolve everything before the summer vacation ended.

“If things wrap up early, I’ll let you know.”

When Seungjoo expressed his wish, Jinwoo grumbled, saying it was like asking for a favor after bowing to receive one. Since it was half a joke, Seungjoo just laughed it off.

Anyway, what mattered was that the final exams were finally over.

* * *

 

Muheun, who was waiting at the front gate, asked how Seungjoo’s day had been in his usual gentle tone. It was a routine question, but not just a formality, and even Seungjoo’s unenthusiastic response that it was the same as usual made Muheun smile with relief. After a brief conversation, neither of them spoke again for the rest of the walk home.

For the past few days, this was how things had been between them. On the surface, it seemed like nothing had changed, but the occasional silence between them was noticeably different from before. Specifically, it was clear that Muheun, who would have normally made lighthearted jokes, wasn’t doing so.

“…”

His tightly shut lips showed no sign of opening. His eyes, fixed ahead, were filled with worry as if something was troubling him. It was impossible not to notice that he was unsettled.

Muheun might be skilled at hiding his emotions, but Seungjoo was equally skilled at noticing them. Whether Muheun was in a good or bad mood was something Seungjoo could tell with his eyes closed.

“…Hyung.”

As they approached the gate at the top of the hill, Seungjoo spoke up gently. He had been pretending not to notice for the past few weeks, but now that the promised grace period was over, it was time to have the conversation they needed to have before Muheun left.

“I’ve finished my final exams.”

“…”

Even with just that one sentence, Muheun’s eyes twitched, and he frowned slightly. He likely understood exactly what Seungjoo’s words meant. That’s why he let out a faint sigh and ran his hand through his hair.

“If it’s going to be a long talk, let’s go to your place, hyung.”

Seungjoo decided to give him a moment to prepare himself. If Muheun needed a bit more time, Seungjoo hoped he could gather his thoughts as they walked.

However, contrary to his expectations, Muheun shook his head with a calm expression.

“No, there’s no need for that.”

His low, steady voice carried a hint of resolve. Muheun clicked his tongue briefly and came to a stop. When Seungjoo stopped beside him, Muheun turned to look at him.

“…”

“…”

The moment their eyes met, Seungjoo swallowed dryly without realizing it. Even though this was the moment he had been waiting for, he suddenly felt a wave of nervousness. If Muheun was stubborn again, it would lead to yet another exhausting emotional battle.

“We can’t tell the association, that’s non-negotiable.”

This was the conclusion Seungjoo had already anticipated. After all, that’s why he had come up with an alternative plan. So when he nodded in agreement, Muheun, without even blinking, continued.

“Instead, let’s stick together until we catch the culprit.”

“With you, hyung?”

Weren’t they already together? Despite the determined look in Muheun’s eyes, nothing seemed to have changed. Seungjoo was about to protest when Muheun cut him off.

“I mean, let’s investigate the Gwimae together.”

Seungjoo couldn’t respond for a moment. This proposal was truly unexpected. As Seungjoo stared blankly at him, Muheun lowered his gaze and spoke quietly.

“I know we need to resolve this quickly, just like you said. I also know that just telling you to stay put will frustrate you. If I push it any further, you’ll probably just do whatever you want anyway. Don’t think I don’t know you, Seungjoo.”

His words were remarkably accurate. In fact, Seungjoo was already considering finding a solution by any means necessary if Muheun didn’t back down. Just as Seungjoo understood Muheun, Muheun also understood Seungjoo, so it was inevitable.

“So, you might as well come with me.”

Despite his firm tone, Muheun’s expression showed reluctance. The shallow sigh and the way he discreetly swallowed dryly made it clear. Seungjoo didn’t take his eyes off Muheun and asked in a bewildered voice.

“What could we do together?”

He had already read the memories, and they didn’t seem particularly helpful. Besides, it wasn’t like Muheun was going to allow him to come into contact with Gwimae.

But the words that came out of Muheun’s mouth completely contradicted Seungjoo’s expectations.

“You’ll read Gwimae’s memories again, describe the features to me, and then I’ll find someone who closely matches that description and get an item imbued with their spiritual energy.”

Things like talismans or personal items, Muheun added casually. He suggested that instead of directly confronting the culprit, they should try to identify them through the spiritual energy in their belongings.

“Even if we informed the association, they’d have to purify Gwimae several more times anyway. Since we can’t be sure there’s only one culprit, let’s confirm it together.”

“Purify it?”

“Yeah.”

“…Seriously?”

“Ah, Seungjoo…”

Muheun sighed softly. Covering his eyes with one hand, it was clear that saying this wasn’t something he was comfortable with. He sighed heavily again, rubbing his face.

“I don’t want to make you do this. Even now, I just want to tell you not to do it.”

It was impossible to miss the sincerity in his voice. Muheun, who hated seeing Seungjoo in danger, must have agonized over this decision. But the reason he suggested this was likely because Seungjoo had asked him to come up with an alternative solution.

“No…”

But even so, Seungjoo never expected Muheun to suggest investigating Gwimae together. Confronting Gwimae was far from safe, and the purification process would pass the pain directly to him.

‘…No way.’

As Seungjoo thought about it, he suddenly realized something and his eyes widened. Reflecting on it, he remembered that he hadn’t told Muheun something crucial.

‘He doesn’t know it hurts during purification.’

It was starting to make sense. Muheun hadn’t heard Gwimae’s request for Seungjoo to “take the pain instead.” He knew Seungjoo had coughed up blood when stabbed by Muheun’s sword, but he didn’t know about the pain he felt during the purification process.

“It’s better than overworking yourself by following the association’s orders. Purifying it once or twice shouldn’t be too hard on your body…”

As expected, Muheun murmured to himself as if trying to reassure himself. It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself that this was the better option. On top of that, he looked straight at Seungjoo and confirmed again.

“Nothing’s been wrong with you afterward, right?”

“…No, nothing.”

It pricked his conscience, but technically it wasn’t a lie. He might have been in pain at the time, but afterward, there hadn’t been any problems. Besides, just in case, he had already checked with Muryeong.

“Even Muryeong said it’s fine.”

‘Does it hurt after purifying an evil spirit?’

On a weekday last week, he had asked Muryeong a bunch of questions when he visited the main house. He asked if purifying an evil spirit caused any physical issues, whether there were any long-term effects, or if there was any pain involved.

‘My legs might give out a bit, but it doesn’t hurt. It just takes a lot of energy.’

It was similar to what Seungjoo had felt after purifying Gwimae. Seungjoo had never been lacking in stamina (though he couldn’t compare to Muryeong), but at the time, even standing up had been a struggle. The next day, after sleeping like a log, he felt perfectly fine, as if the exhaustion had never happened.

“You know our little brother is fine.”

So, Muheun must have weighed the risks. Whether it was Seungjoo purifying Gwimae or running around on his own, Muheun must have considered which would be safer. And clearly, he had concluded that the former was the better option.

“…Wait. But what happens after your spiritual sight closes?”

Just as Seungjoo was about to accept the plan, he pointed out something odd. His spiritual sight wasn’t permanent, and with almost a month gone, it would soon close. If that happened, he wouldn’t be able to purify Gwimae, making it contradictory to suggest they stick together until they caught the culprit.

“We’ll catch them before that.”

But Muheun answered without a moment’s hesitation. Before Seungjoo could say anything in response, he added firmly.

“And if we don’t catch them before your sight closes, we’ll catch them before it reopens.”

“…”

“So at that point, make sure you have a bodyguard.”

His words sounded oddly determined, as if he was saying they would catch the culprits without Seungjoo’s help, or perhaps that he wouldn’t allow Seungjoo’s spiritual sight to reopen until they had caught every member of the new faction.

“I won’t bother you anymore.”

‘Let’s just meet once every six months.’

Why did that phrase suddenly come to mind? Was it because Muheun’s smile looked so faint, like it might disappear? Or maybe it was because his pitch-black eyes were too sunken. Perhaps it was the dull ache in his chest.

“…Alright.”

Seungjoo finally forced out a quiet response. Ultimately, it came down to a matter of choice. Muheun had compromised a lot, and this plan wasn’t far off from what Seungjoo had wanted.

“I’ll do as you say, hyung.”

“But why do I feel so uneasy?” He kept getting the feeling that he was missing something. To be more precise, it felt like Muheun had some other hidden agenda. It was an inexplicable sense of discord, but it wasn’t enough to point out.

“Yeah, you’re kind.”

Muheun smiled warmly with his eyes and then started walking toward the gate again. Normally, he would have patted his head, but perhaps the message to stop treating him like a child had finally gotten through. As Seungjoo slowly followed behind him, he casually asked a question.

“When are we going to investigate the Gwimae?”

They had to catch the person breaking the seal, so they first needed the unsealed Gwimae. He wondered how easily it would appear, but Muheun replied in a calm tone.

“I’ve already received the coordinates. We’ll head out tomorrow afternoon.”

Seungjoo didn’t ask where the coordinates were. He wouldn’t know even if he heard it unless he looked it up. Instead, he hesitated at the tight schedule and asked again in surprise.

“…Tomorrow?”

* * *

A large bus rumbled down a rough country road. As the bus shook, the handles hanging from the ceiling swayed in unison. Warm sunlight streamed through the windows, and inside the empty bus, only two people sat together in the very back.

“…”

Among them, Seungjoo, who was sitting by the window, blankly stared out, taking in the lush scenery. The forest path, which was hard to see in the city, was so vividly green that it seemed like his eyesight might improve just by looking at it. Although it was a landscape that should have brought peace of mind, he felt uneasy the entire time.

It must be because his shoulders felt heavy, Seungjoo thought, as he glanced to the side. A round head had gently settled on his shoulder, which had been feeling that weight for a while. It was none other than Kim Muheun.

There was only one reason they were riding the bus together across the countryside: to investigate the unsealed Gwimae, as they had promised yesterday. The Gwimae had appeared deep in the mountains, and those mountains happened to be in a remote part of the countryside, far from the city.

‘It’s such a remote place that it’s better to go during the day.’

Coincidentally, the location of the unsealed Gwimae was close to the ancestral mountain owned by Seungjoo’s family. It had been the site of the family’s burial grounds for generations, and Seungjoo’s older sister and brother were also buried there. Muheun, who likely shared the same thoughts as Seungjoo, had jokingly suggested with a smile,

‘Shall we stop by and see Seunghee and Seungtae while we’re there?’

Neither family held formal memorial rites, so they each commemorated the day in their own way. The neighbors would sort through the old man’s belongings to ease their longing, while Seungjoo’s family would visit the graves or renew the talismans on the wall, renewing their resolve for the future.

‘We should buy some flowers.’

Seungjoo had laughed and agreed to Muheun’s suggestion. Even though the memorial day was still far off, it seemed like a good idea to leave a flower on the way. As the youngest, he didn’t show his face much, so at least he could fulfill his role as the youngest on such an occasion.

And so, the two of them bought two bouquets and boarded the bus together. They had originally planned to take Muheun’s car, but they ended up using public transportation for unavoidable reasons. Surprisingly, it was Muheun who had insisted on it, citing that he was too sleep-deprived and might doze off while driving.

‘If you drive like that, something really bad could happen.’

If even Muheun, who never complained, was saying such things, it must be serious. Seungjoo had thought so with a serious expression, but Muheun had simply shrugged his shoulders. What he said next was enough to remind Seungjoo of something he had forgotten.

‘We can rest during the full moon.’

Come to think of it, the full moon is coming soon.

 The chapters have been revised, edited, and compressed, and the complete main story has been released for free, as I’m concerned it might be taken down or worse. I didn’t want to disappoint the readers, so I apologize for any inconvenience, and I hope you enjoy reading the complete story! The side stories will be coming soon, so don't worry~