Lee Ji-yu and Monk Hwaryun

February 11th, 8:00 a.m.

The moment Su-jeong left, I washed up and checked my phone.

The messages waiting for me were mostly worthless noise.

A few, though, stood out — especially the ones from Michael, piled up with a clear edge of urgency. Reading them, I was certain he was genuinely desperate.

As for the curse-laden texts from my maternal uncle and aunt's husband — I ignored them the way I always had. Nothing but garbage full of abuse.

Trash...

I had no desire to look at them any longer. I had already decided I wouldn't bother visiting my eldest maternal uncle's house for the holidays anymore, so I wouldn't have to see them. Going forward, every woman on that side of the family was scheduled to vanish — holidays there would be empty and bleak. They were already unbearable to look at; add a house with no women left, and it would be pure hell. Just imagining ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it was enough.

The messages from my classmates were mostly confirmation texts asking whether I'd show up at the graduation ceremony. I replied ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the group chat that I was going, then swiped past the rest.

When I opened the messages filed under Family, a smile rose unbidden — a genuine, happy one.

So the big family I'd dreamed of really did come true...

I checked the message from Hye-yun, the one I loved most, first.

I was carefully typing out a reply to her when another message arrived.

Ding.

It was from A-jeong, my first love.

The instant I told her to hang in there, her reply shot back.

I was certain Hyeong-cheol had tried to hang himself. I hated seeing A-jeong — my woman — suffer, but even so, I had no intention of helping Hyeong-cheol. A little ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sex therapy and she'd forget he ever existed.

I sent a clear signal that I would take her in. Her reply came almost at once, and the moment I read it a soft smile spread across my face.

For A-jeong's sake alone, I now needed to work on her mother before the 17th. Han Ju-ae had taken leave through the 17th anyway, so she would almost certainly be home.

Hmm. Should I approach her pretending I've only just heard A-jeong came back?

I answered Hyeon-ju and Eun-hui's report messages one by one, then checked Jeong-mi's.

Emily's message followed right after.

I'd asked every woman except Hye-yun to message me only once a day, so there wasn't much left to check.

I opened the monthly schedule page of the diary I'd started keeping a few days ago.

I spent a long while deciding when to go after A-jeong's mother, Han Ju-ae, then wrote it into the schedule.

The two addresses I needed to visit today: Ji-yu's place, and the house where Yeong-ho's mother lived.

I sat in a coffee shop in the commercial strip of Muak Mirae Apartment and drained my second iced americano. For a moment I sifted through the memories of Kang-ho from his James days that I'd absorbed. A real thug's life — reckless, and far too dark in temperament.

The door opened, and a familiar face walked into the shop.

My clone, Lee Kang-ho.

Just yesterday I'd briefly absorbed him and transferred tattooing skill and English conversation ability. He sat across from me, and three women took their seats around him in turn. All familiar faces from the memories I'd taken in — only today each of them wore a choker at her throat, and anklets glinted at ankles left bare by hiked-up skirts.

"Master, what would you like?"

Park A-yeong's bright voice rang out. She called him Master whether anyone around them heard or not — and Kang-ho didn't look remotely flustered. It was a good thing that particular streak had been filtered out during absorption; looking through his memories, he'd lived a life that gave zero weight to other people's stares. And since he was a clone under my influence, being called Master didn't bother him either.

"Caramel macchiato for me."

You crazy bast—

That was basically spitting in my own face, so I stopped the curse short even inside my head. Even his palate seemed heavily colored by the memories. That sickeningly sweet caramel macchiato... I could practically feel my teeth rotting.

"What about you bitches?"

A high-handed look. Park A-yeong was clearly looking down on her own mother and aunt. Whether that was how thoroughly she'd been steeped in Lee Kang-ho, or whether it had always been her nature, I couldn't say. Under that faintly vicious glint on her cute face, Jun-hee and Seon-hui answered without protest, postures locked in perfect form. If anything, the atmosphere suggested they feared A-yeong more than Kang-ho.

"Unnie. I'll have the same as Master."

"Me too, unnie."

"Okay."

Park A-yeong shrugged off her coat. She had a slender body — matching the naked form from the memories — and in a dress, with the anklet and choker coordinated in pure white and white high heels to match, she looked sexy. The white dress, though, made it obvious she wasn't wearing a bra; the outline of her nipples showed clearly through the fabric.

Well, Master? Pretty, right?

Kang-ho grinned at me with exactly that expression. I kept revising the screenplay on my laptop without looking up.

In The Classic, there had been a surprising number of points where that universe's history diverged from my world's. Some bizarre subject called "military drill"? Completely incomprehensible — I changed it to P.E.

Perfect for Hye-yun.

Click-clack. Click-clack.

Only the sound of laptop keys filled the air. A few minutes later A-yeong returned with four caramel macchiatos, handed them out, and sat down.

Kang-ho's eyes changed at once. He smirked and swept a look over the women, starting with A-yeong.

"Everyone, repeat after me. Listen once, then forget it. Got it?"

"Yes!!! Master."

Every gaze in the café snapped toward them, and they didn't care in the slightest. People covered their mouths and whispered as they stared. Shouting "Master" that loud in a café — of course everyone turned.

Holy shit, steel nerves.

"Eu sou a escrava de Kim Yi-Ahn."

(I am Kim Ian's slave.)

"Eu sou a escrava de Kim Yi-Ahn."

All three women repeated ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the same words, awkward but clear. And then time in the café stopped. I confirmed the cars outside had frozen mid-motion and nodded.

Hmm. So clones freeze too?

I considered it for a moment. Lee Seon-hui and Lee Jun-hee turned out to be surprisingly good-looking. Not quite on the level of my women, but still beauties who clearly outclassed the bitches already in my household.

If I promote the kids to slave rank, the revenge falls apart... and it wouldn't be fair to the bitches at home either...

"Park A-yeong as... slave rank. Lee Seon-hui and Lee Jun-hee as bitch rank."

The coloring talisman, rejuvenation talisman, and hair-removal talisman would already have taken effect, so bitch rank was fine. Married women anyway — and women who had little to do with me personally. Even a bitch's tail would grant one trait after five years; the talismans plus that were something, at least.

Master. When you remodel Park A-yeong's body, about my requests...

I'd taken Kang-ho's call and heard those absurd demands. I'd cursed him out for turning into a total pervert, then agreed.

Aside from the three talismans already in effect, I left height and the rest alone and granted every request, including delayed aging.

No semen on hand, so mana will be needed. But I can't exactly give my semen to women who have nothing to do with me...

Once mana began to generate, the body remodeling would accelerate — something I'd already experienced in the Three Kingdoms World.

A-yeong flared with light.

Then the cars outside started moving again. Kang-ho had refused the Penis Band — too risky, he said. The twenty-percent pleasure conversion might make him fall even deeper for A-yeong, so he'd take it later.

Midway through, Jini's urging to finish the tutorial quickly made me tilt my head. Her voice seemed to be trembling.

Something going on?

Nine-thirty. I checked my watch, pretended to pack up the laptop, slipped it into Subspace, picked up my briefcase, and stood.

Building 7, Unit 302.

Ding-dong.

A middle-aged woman's voice — limp, drained of strength. From inside the door, the heavy scent of incense rolled out.

"I'm here on Hye-yun's introduction. About the gh—"

A woman in her forties with a gaunt face. She was quite beautiful. Hye-yun hadn't been lying — looking at the mother alone, I could already guess what kind of looks Lee Ji-yu had. A beauty approaching Jeong-mi's level.

"Um... please wait just a moment. Exorcist priests from the Seoul Archdiocese are here performing the rite right now."

It was a spacious place, around fifty pyeong, and the entryway was enormous. Exorcist priests? The kind from the movies? Curiosity stirred.

"Would it be all right if I watched as well? I've never seen a Catholic rite before."

"Well... they've closed the door. You can listen from outside, but..."

Disappointing. I took off my shoes and stepped into the living room — and found a monk seated facing one of the bedroom doors.

"And that gentleman?"

"That's Monk Hwaryun, brought from Donghwasa in Daegu. He's been reading the dharma for a full week, and right now he's standing by because of the exorcism."

She whispered close to my ear. Her soft, fragrant breath was starting to turn me on. I quickly gripped my bag and walked toward the monk.

The monk in his sixties, eyes closed with a wooden fish in hand, opened them. An immense pure light glittered from him — the first time I'd ever felt this much dharma power from a living monk. His gray and crimson kasaya sleeves fluttered as he rose.

"Hoh. Donor. Your soul is remarkably clear. Are you here for the exorcism as well?"

"Yes."

Monk Hwaryun's expression darkened for a moment. His kasaya was soaked through with sweat — something was clearly wrong.

"It is a formidable ak-gwi. A Japanese-style aegwi that intermingles souls. This worthless monk has managed only to keep the souls from tangling further. Amitabha."

"Ah. Even that much is remarkable."

The monk's face showed no sign of easing. Pure light shone between the deep wrinkles — like looking at a tiger.

"So, donor — what manner of exorcism do you practice?"

"Well..."

I hesitated briefly. I needed to take Ji-yu either way, and her mother, standing right there, was looking appetizing too — so I worked the angles. Michael came to mind. I flushed my face in a show of embarrassment and answered.

"I... learned from an American acquaintance named Michael. I exorcise through sexual intercourse."

"Oh... Donor Michael? If you learned from him, that is trustworthy. Amitabha. Donor Na-yeon — even if the exorcist priests fail, this man should be able to resolve it."

"You know Michael?"

"Amitabha. I have met him several times over lust-spirit exorcisms. I know his skill as well."

Michael. What the hell had he been doing for even Monk Hwaryun to know him?

So Ji-yu's mother's name seemed to be Na-yeon. She stepped closer, wanting to confirm what she'd just heard.

"That... word, sexual intercourse — what do you mean?"

"Amitabha. It is a proven method of exorcism. I had heard there was such a bloodline in the West, but seeing it in practice is remarkable. Even intermingled souls should pose no problem — his teacher Michael has healed such tangled souls before. And since he is offering help knowing his own soul will be clouded by it... accept it."

Monk Hwaryun's assist. Things were falling into place far too smoothly.

Na-yeon's face sank into gloom, then she lifted her head.

"Yes. If the Catholic priests fail, I'll ask for your help."

A voice drained of all strength. Offering her daughter's virginity to a stranger — of course she sounded like that. But I couldn't stop there. I looked at her with a carefully troubled expression.

"Um... once I actually open my Soul Eyes and assess the condition, if it's severe, you'll need to participate in the intercourse as well, Mother. We need to draw yin energy to suppress the ghost's yin energy. The closer the bloodline, the more effective it is."

Monk Hwaryun tilted his head for a moment, then nodded. An unfamiliar exorcism method — he wouldn't interfere.

"What? How could—"

"Amitabha. If this man were a quack after nothing but bodies, I would stake my name and punish him myself... Donor Na-yeon. Accept it. A lust spirit would be fortunate enough — an aegwi is dangerous."

The Prayer to Saint Michael was drifting out from the room. I'd been baptized Catholic myself, so I'd heard it at least once. There seemed to be two priests — one repeating the prayer, the other shouting continuously.

"Begone! John, deputy of God, commands you. Evil spirit, begone!"

"Mmph— mmph—"

A woman's muffled sounds came with it, as if something had been forced into her mouth like a gag. When I turned my eyes toward the room, Na-yeon glanced that way as well, then whispered softly.

"Yes. If it can save my daughter... I'll do it."

"Amitabha."

Hwaryun closed his eyes and pressed his palms together. He listened to the ongoing rite for a while, then opened his eyes again and looked at me.

"Donor — do you have experience with exorcism?"

"Pardon? Yes. I've stripped one Japanese lust spirit and one aegwi less than a year old. Monk."

Only then did Hwaryun smile with clear serenity, and closed his eyes once more.