The White Woman's Desperate Prayer
Gwangjeong and Sujeong, the small and tidy light spirit and crystal nestled in the wooden box, had grown somewhat accustomed to True Truth Village by now. But getting used to it didn't mean it was any more bearable—not by a long shot.
Even on their first visit, the place had given them a bad feeling, but after peering into every nook and cranny, that unease had only deepened.
True Truth Village was home to a fair number of humans. Among them, the number who were in their right minds was small. And among those, even fewer had names called out loud.
There were more hidden underground spaces than what was visible above ground. And the humans down there were even further from sanity.
Following their master's orders, Gwangjeong and Sujeong stuck together without fail, witnessing much and shivering in disgust. They now understood how the village operated.
True Truth Village was ruled by three things.
One: strict discipline.
"Too. Unfair. Too. Harsh."
"Why. Keep. Beating? Just. One extra. Spoon. Of rice?"
Two: brutal abuse.
"They'll. Die. Like that. But keep. Beating. Evil."
"Can't. Escape. Tied up. Like animals."
Three: ruthless exploitation.
"Work. Nonstop. No rest. No pay."
"They. Eat well. Drink well. Rest freely."
The two shook their heads and sighed deeply.
And as if those three weren't enough, the activities in the deepest underground chambers—places untouched by even a single ray of natural light—made Gwangjeong and Sujeong feel even worse.
They cultivated herbs that clouded the mind, squeezed out their juices to feed to people, or burned them to force inhalation of the smoke. That made clusters of people sit dazedly, giggling vacantly, vomiting, or repeatedly bashing their heads against walls and floors—fine, whatever.
But what was truly repulsive was the nonstop "painful or bizarre acts" they'd glimpsed before by thumping the delusion pouches—acts they performed on themselves or inflicted on others.
Sitting in circles around floors scrawled with chaotic lines of writing or drawings, they whipped backs raw with thorn-studded lashes or pounded needle-covered tools into flesh to pierce holes.
In agony, shedding blood and tears, screaming and wailing, they repeated the torment endlessly. Even when someone right beside them collapsed lifelessly mid-act, no one cared.
And the strangest, most unsettling part: collecting the blood flowing from those self-inflicted wounds into jars.
Once the jars brimmed with sloshing blood, they carried them preciously through maze-like twisting paths to a room painted blood-red on all sides.
There, they offered the jars to an old man with a goatee and age spots blotching his face—a suspicious figure covered in clinging evil spirits yet utterly unaffected by them.
Gwangjeong and Sujeong wanted to uncover the old man's true nature, but they knew only that he held a high position in True Truth Village. No one called his name, either.
Villagers addressed each other as "brother" or "sister," never by name—except those at the very top, who wielded it as a privilege. Yet this old man, who seemed at the pinnacle, was called neither by name nor title.
Sujeong said he must be one of the truly highest in Chamjinri Church, and Gwangjeong agreed.
From days of observation, the old man's sole task was endless mixing and stirring: pouring blood-filled jars into massive vats, adding herbal decoctions, and swirling vigorously.
Blood spoiled faster than anything from the human body, yet with the herbal elixir, it neither blackened nor rotted.
When the mixture thickened to red clay consistency, he sealed the vat. Five such sealed vats stood ready.
Gwangjeong and Sujeong couldn't guess their purpose.
"Blood. Collected. For what? Master. Probably. Knows."
"I. Think so too. Truly. Disgusting. Humans. Want to. Report to. Master now. Be with. Comrades."
"Me too. Last, check. That woman."
"Yes. Check. That woman."
They agreed: time to leave and return to their master.
They'd held off before, urging "just a bit more," but now their minds aligned.
"Good."
"Good."
They nodded brightly at each other and swiftly ascended to the surface.
Heading to True Truth Village's finest structure: a five-story building. Atop it, in the widest room, sat the all-white woman, alone and vacant.
"Clumsy. Woman. Still. Dazed today?"
"More than. Dazed. Always. Drinks. Herbal brew."
The woman was middling, half-baked, neither here nor there—hence "clumsy woman."
They'd danced and waved before her; she wasn't fully visible to the living, nor completely invisible.
Trouble loomed soon.
"Can't. Grip tight. Like Master. Or control."
"No strength. Just shows. Bad things. Happen."
Ordinary humans couldn't see them, but lacked power to subdue or command. Thus, they got exploited or tormented unilaterally.
Nature spirits drifted leisurely, needing little, so they didn't harass visible humans. But human spirits were different.
Spotting a visible human, they'd cling, demanding "do this," "get that," tormenting relentlessly.
No human spirits clung to her yet—perhaps rumor hadn't spread, or some trick like the goatee's kept them away.
"Soon. Very soon."
"Probably. Soon."
Peeking in, they confirmed she was alone—no ever-watchful man by her side—and slipped inside.
"Has. Everything. She needs."
"Seeing this. They call it. Bird in. A cage."
As Gwangjeong and Sujeong hovered, staring, the woman—seated blankly, blinking at empty air—reacted a beat late.
But today, her eyes weren't the usual milky, unfocused fish-eyes. Faint life glimmered in her red gaze, laced with hope and anticipation.
"More. Alive. Than usual."
"Yes. Good thing. Happen?"
As they swirled near, she glanced around, rose, tiptoed to the door—wary of those below—peered out cautiously, and shut it silently.
Kneeling, hands clasped, face earnest, she whispered skyward.
"High One, can you hear me?"
She perked her ears habitually, paused in silence, then continued.
"It's truly, truly urgent now. I heard the call came. The one that wrinkled old goat and his damned cronies have been dying for—from Seomho Group…"
Grinding her teeth, fists clenched white-knuckled, she hissed venom through gritted teeth.
"Fucking bastards. If it's such a great opportunity, let them whore out their own dicks. Why force it on someone who says no? Rip their mouths open… ram stakes up their asses till they die…!"
Her pretty face twisted foul as curses poured out. Gwangjeong thought he'd seen that ferocity before—then remembered.
"Master's. Little sister. Similar to. This woman. Doesn't. Look it. But fierce. Rough."
"Oh?"
Sujeong perked at the comparison to the master's sister.
"Master's. Hospital. Chamjinri woman. Came. Master's sister. Smack! Grabbed hair. Smack! Cursed wildly. Amazing."
"Ooh."
"High One, please hear my prayer."
Her voice grew more desperate.
"I truly, truly don't want to stay here anymore. I don't want to sleep with that pot-bellied geezer or his cronies as they command. They call it an honor, but I know it's all bullshit. I've seen it plenty in dramas. I know exactly how it'll go. Even if I refuse, they'll drug me into it… calling it a necessary sacrifice to hasten 'that day.' Screw that day and all—why me? Huh? Why don't others sacrifice? Why only me, just me…!"
Her hands trembled after the outburst. She caught her breath, then pressed on.
"High One, I beg you. Help me escape this place."
Muttering to the High One for a while, she finally sighed a whisper.
"If you can't help me escape… at least let me die well. Just that much…"
Eyes wide, resolute, she reached into a desk drawer, fumbling up top to pull out a cloth bundle. Untying the tight knots revealed a colorful handful of pills.
Gwangjeong and Sujeong recognized them—the ones she'd taken one or two daily lately.
"This time I saved four times more than last. This time, for real, I'll die. Drift off… and gone…"
Her sincerity hit them; they tilted quizzically.
"Woman. Wants. To die? Humans. Always. Cling. To life."
"Makes sense. Here. All crazy."
Most in True Truth Village were mad. And this "cherished" woman was surely no exception.
"We saw. Normal people. Come here. Go mad. Quick. Stay long. Everyone. Goes mad."
"But High One? Who?"
"Probably. Calls. Her savior. Being."
"Savior? Who helps. This woman? Here?"
Sujeong paused at Gwangjeong's question—a brilliant idea sparking.
One the master would love.
"Master. Hates. This True Truth Village. Right?"
"Yes. I think so."
"Then. Use. This woman?"
"Use her?"
Sujeong nodded firmly, excited.
"Woman. Important. Here. Master told us? Observe much. Learn much. This woman. Knows much. So."
"Ah! Got it!"
Gwangjeong nodded too, serious.
"Still. Need. Master's. Permission. This. Very important."
"Yes. Confirm. She won't. Die. Then report."
* * *
When Pungjeong returns… yeah, first praise her, then teach where she went just a "little" wrong.
Last time with the dome, I was generous with rewards, so she probably wants bigger feats for more. And I didn't detail it step-by-step—my fault too.
"Wow."
Hwa-jeong, guarding my body, gasped as the Earth Spirit hurried into the hospital room, cradling bones preciously.
The Earth Spirit scanned the room, froze at the box, then—before entering—I messaged Amjeong.
【Amjeong. Remember the bastard?】
"Oh! Go now. Like Jeong Kyung-rok?"
Perfect sync. I nearly said yes, then paused.
Jeong Kyung-rok and the bastard—both my enemies—blinded suddenly, days apart? Someone might connect it to me…
Suspicion could ripple to Mom and Bin-i.
I could crush direct threats or probes, but better to leave no opening.
【Leave the eyes. Check his state, knock him unconscious for a while. Make it a simple drunk stumble or fall.】
"Check state. Unconscious. Accident. Like that."
Birds of a feather: bastards attract bastards. His situation hadn't improved—likely worsened. His habit of binge-drinking and raging when things soured persisted; a drunken mishap wouldn't raise brows.
Unconscious to silence his tongue. If he heard about Bin-i, he'd rally cronies for quick cash schemes.
"But Master. Killing. Easier, no?"
I chuckled.
Sure, easier. But staining my hands with his blood? Wasteful. Besides—
【Sin should be repaid alive, in prolonged agony.】
"Aha. Got it. This time too! Thoroughly!"
Amjeong zipped off determinedly.
I approached the box.
Click.
<Benefactor, what can I help with?>
A white hand waved joyfully from the box's gap.
【Someone I want you to take in.】
<If Benefactor wishes, of course.>
Instant yes.
I beckoned the waiting Earth Spirit, eyes saucer-wide, shuffling forward.
【You know what this box is, right?】
"Yes! Full of great power!"
Clutching the bone pile, it nodded eagerly. Deep trust and relief shone in its eyes. Seeing my gui-mul box deepened faith in me.
"Just as heard. You command even mighty gui-mul. Put friend in, safe? Won't vanish?"
【Check inside first, decide after.】
"Of course I'll check!"
【Knew you would.】
Leading by example, I entered first.
No invading darkness, no sad or joyful past visions like before. Just a gentle float, light blooming like dawn—
Hoo?
"Ooh. Human. What is… this place?"
The Earth Spirit's voice brimmed with awe.
Rightfully so. Even I was stunned.
As if transplanting a real village whole, a quaint hamlet materialized gradually.
The box's family had grasped my advice perfectly.