Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Set Up a Shrine Here? (2)
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Two days after my trip to the graveyard, today.
Surprisingly, construction on the shrine was already complete.
A house with one room for me to live in and two more attached for the shrine!
And not some log cabin, but built from properly processed timber!
This was exactly why people needed to secure positions of power.
Just a word from two geezers on their deathbeds, and poof—a whole house appeared.
Even this modest size had been scaled back due to the count's opposition.
"If only the location wasn't so awful."
The site I'd chosen was in a truly terrible spot.
Even a regular person would vehemently object to building a house here.
It sat at the foot of a small mountain with a public graveyard, the atmosphere downright eerie.
This was the kind of place you wondered if humans would ever visit.
I half-expected fugitive criminals to be holing up around here.
"Will any customers even come here?"
People had to at least spot it while passing by, right?
Even if they somehow found the place, who'd visit such a suspicious house?
At this rate, I'd have no choice but to hit the streets and lay out a straw mat.
"How bad does a site have to be to attract this many stray ghosts?"
I could see ghosts peeking at the place from deep in the distant mountains.
Those guys I could just chase off, but...
"Can't be helped with a new house..."
There was nothing inside.
The house was barren to an extreme degree.
The original log pile even looked wealthier by comparison.
The real problem was the total lack of shrine decorations.
"Where the hell am I supposed to get this stuff?"
Paintings of gods were hard enough to find, and this world didn't even have incense.
All the shaman traditions for setting up a shrine felt meaningless here.
"Not Korean gods, so maybe set it up to fit this place...?"
A bastard sword instead of a ceremonial blade.
A mage's robe or priestly garb instead of fine hanbok.
What to use instead of red beans...
"What for the tightrope?"
The tightrope ritual was Master's signature move.
Of course, I'd inherited that lineage too.
Maybe a massive axe in place of the tightrope?
"For now, orient the shrine this way..."
It was a spot I'd carefully selected.
Perfectly positioned to block the spiritual energy flowing down from the mountain.
Once the shrine was properly established, a great god should handle the rest easily.
"Hmm... great god..."
Embarrassing as a shaman, but I still had no idea which god was linked to me.
Usually, you met them in dreams or their name slipped out during your first ritual.
I'd already shaken the rattle and tried communing several times, but it always cut off abruptly.
More like I was getting kicked out.
Probably meant I wasn't permitted yet.
"Then whose picture do I hang in the shrine?"
This was my first shrine, and I didn't even know the god's name?
In all my years as a shaman, I'd never heard of anything so absurd.
"At least light a candle, even if it's bare-bones."
I plopped down on the floor and grabbed the flint.
Tadak—
Good thing I had those hunter memories; if it'd been straight dimension travel instead of possession, even starting a fire would've been a struggle.
Hwaruruk—
"Phew... there we go."
The candle flame flickered.
It had been a while since I'd sat and watched one like this.
I'd stared at plenty while training my Spiritual Eyes, though.
Others trained to open theirs; I'd trained to close mine.
Because...
I didn't want to see ghosts like the one outside the window right now.
"Sigh... set up a shrine here?"
The spirit outside had its head detached.
Meaning the head I could see through the window was being held in its own hands.
Was that one of the undead types, a dullahan?
"Hey, you a dullahan?"
No way it was a dullahan.
It was just a regular ghost.
"Well, look at you."
True to form as a headless ghost, even its head-shake was obnoxious.
Who the hell shakes their head by grabbing it with both hands?
"You're that bastard from earlier, right?"
During the day, it'd only stared from afar; now night had fallen, and it came rushing in excitedly.
Unlike the noble spirits from the graveyard, this one perfectly fit the word "ghost."
"Where do you think you're at, you stray ghost bastard."
Made sense with all the gloomy spiritual energy around—already attracting pests...
Just thinking about blocking it all with my body made my head throb.
I flung open the door and charged out. There floated the ghost in its grotesque form.
"Won't you come down?"
I yelled, but the thing just grinned as if trying to taunt me, proudly thrusting its head forward with both hands.
"Get down while I'm asking nicely."
For a split second, its expression made me hear laughter ringing in my ears.
Infuriating laughter.
Pfft.
"Laughing? You laughed, huh?"
Seemed it had some ghost experience after all—it slid smoothly right up to me.
Acting like it knew the living and dead couldn't touch.
That grinning head practically said, "What're you gonna do if I do?"
"Haa..."
Thrusting its own head right in my face like it'd scare me...
This stray ghost had just made a huge mistake.
"Hey, can you still grind your molars?"
The head was in the perfect spot.
Swing both arms, and bam—ideal striking position.
I whipped out the rattle without a second thought.
Unleashing a cleanup hitter's cheek-slapping swing.
Kkaang—!
The rattle connected with a clang, sending the head sailing in a perfect arc.
"Lightweight, so it flies nice?"
Headless body.
Hands flailing wildly in panic.
One hell of a sandbag.
Paak!
Peok!!
I battered its entire body—minus the head—with the rattle.
Guess ghosts go blind without their heads; the flopping around was deeply satisfying.
Stray ghosts who didn't fear humans just needed a good beating.
Nothing else worked.
All punishment for the karma piled up from evil deeds in life.
Paak!
The writhing body tumbled across the ground from rattle blows.
"Stray ghost!"
Paak!
"Begone!"
Dalang—
"Hyoi!"
I'd felt it beating that orc ghost too—this rattle had killer handfeel.
A lifetime tormented by ghosts.
How many times had I wanted to do exactly this?
If I'd had this thing sooner, I'd have beaten every ghost in the neighborhood...
"Not going to fetch your head?"
Even while getting pummeled, it should've at least pretended to go after its head—but it just stayed put.
Sure enough, the reason it took the beating so passively came to light quick.
The flying head was zipping back at a good clip.
Face full of terror.
"Take one more."
Kkaang!
A clear ring echoed as the head flew through the air once more.
Aster Lucia.
The granddaughter who monopolized Astor Closel's affection.
Lucia, with her snow-white skin and icy expression, was walking along.
"Around here, right?"
For two days straight, she'd heard nonstop about one person.
It was the first time her grandfather had gone on like that about anyone.
Sword Master Parmon had piled on even more praise.
'Chris, was it?'
What kind of person could monopolize a grand mage's and sword master's attention?
'Sees souls?'
Apparently, he even talked to them.
And not just that—he could glimpse the past and divine the future.
Like an oracle from the temple.
As both a person and a mage, she couldn't help but be curious.
Lucia's footsteps halted.
'Supposed to be there, right?'
She'd been about to cast a spell to mask her presence but stopped the mana flow.
'Magic won't work, huh?'
They said Chris had seen right through her grandfather's spells.
Unbelievable story, but if true, her own magic would be spotted instantly.
Instead of magic, Lucia suppressed her presence and crept closer.
'That must be him.'
A voice carried from a fair distance away.
"Hyoi!"
"Begone!"
"......?"
At the spot Lucia peered toward, Chris was swinging wildly at thin air.
'What is he doing?'
His snow-white hair whipped around madly as he kept moving.
Chris's mouth moved nonstop, like he was holding a conversation with someone.
Was this the soul communion she'd only heard about?
Lucia's curious eyes studied Chris intently.
"Head back in place."
'Head...?'
Lucia's gaze chased the empty air, but nothing was there.
Chris's bizarre antics continued.
Yelling one moment, jumping and swinging at nothing the next.
It was a far cry from the mystical soul communion she'd imagined.
"......"
Suddenly, the count's words echoed in her mind: still treat him warily.
It matched the sight before her eyes perfectly.
Unthinkingly, Lucia backed away step by step.
"......"