The Shaman King (2)
“Deoksugung Palace... right there.”
Ju Kang-rim and Yoo Wol-ryeong climbed to the roof of a nearby abandoned building to scout the target location. The rundown structure, neglected for ages with its power long cut off, exuded a gloomy, eerie vibe.
“Kangryeong Daegun moves his base periodically. No idea why, but he sticks to palaces, apparently.”
“Maybe the pervert wants to feel like a king.”
“Could be. Turning people into zombies to serve him and resurrecting a fallen dynasty? That's not the kind of plan any sane person cooks up.”
Ju Kang-rim gave up trying to understand Kangryeong Daegun's mindset, but Yoo Wol-ryeong frowned, unable to brush it off so lightly.
“A palace, of all places.”
“Pardon? Something special there? Like a seal or binding...?”
“No. You can't use high-powered weapons inside a palace.”
She continued, looking genuinely troubled. “Deoksugung is packed with immovable cultural artifacts. If we go in guns blazing and damage them, it'll be a disaster. I went out of my way to borrow those firearms for free, and now we can't even use them. What a shame.”
Ju Kang-rim paused, wondering if she was joking, a smile at the ready. But her expression was dead serious.
“You're serious?”
“Hunting immortals can be done anytime, anywhere. Damaged cultural heritage? That's gone forever.”
She spoke with utmost gravity. “And Messenger Ju Kang-rim, you keep forgetting this, but we're public servants from the underworld. Especially with palace artifacts—we must respect their authority. This is a bigger deal than you think.”
“Not just procedure?”
“Every ghost in Korea falls under the king's rule.”
Ju Kang-rim suddenly recalled how Kangryeong Daegun had tried to possess the spirits from Jongmyo Shrine. He wasn't sure if he'd succeeded, but it made him wonder if that tied into what Yoo Wol-ryeong was saying.
“In the old days, even ghosts bowed to the strict national laws. Even a messenger can't take that lightly.”
“Man, so many restrictions...”
“Every restriction has a story behind it.”
With Yoo Wol-ryeong putting it that way, Ju Kang-rim realized this might get trickier than expected. Maybe underworld folk were extra sensitive to ancient relics.
No way he picked this spot to exploit that, right?
He could see why Yeomra kept bending rules to drag him in. With so many constraints tying down a proper grim reaper like Yoo Wol-ryeong, they had no choice but to recruit him.
Which means here, I've gotta play it smart on my own.
“Best to sneak in quiet, take out just Kangryeong Daegun, and slip out. I'll contact Ttakkachi for now.”
With a reluctant click of his tongue, Ju Kang-rim casually grabbed an extra bag from behind. Yoo Wol-ryeong either didn't notice or pretended not to, saying nothing.
He pulled out his Biman to message Ttakkachi. But soon, his expression soured.
“No response from Ttakkachi.”
Ju Kang-rim and Yoo Wol-ryeong vaulted silently over the walls into Deoksugung Palace. As she trailed his shadow, Yoo Wol-ryeong whispered,
“Any chance Ttakkachi's already betrayed us?”
Ju Kang-rim had considered it. Hell, he'd pegged the odds at fifty-fifty. But even that wasn't a bad outcome.
He'd been torching Kangryeong Daegun's hideouts from the shadows to flush out the immortal and his crew. To hunt, you first had to face the prey. Setting traps meant they were committing their forces too—maybe even drawing out the big boss himself.
If not? He'd smash that trap like all the others. No second chances for Ttakkachi.
Either way, Kangryeong Daegun would face him eventually. Show up after the organization got gutted, or before—same difference.
Still, Ju Kang-rim was certain she hadn't betrayed them.
“If she had, she'd have lured us in for the ambush instead of going radio silent.”
Of course, certainty was premature. That's why they were infiltrating stealthily—to check for ambushes first.
“Security looks routine so far...”
Patrolling organization members and ghouls dotted the grounds, but no real tension in the air. The palace walls themselves kept zombies at bay. With the Bukhansan Gate opening sealing the main entrance, no undead inside either.
“Where were you meeting Ttakkachi?”
“National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art for her. Hamnyeongjeon pond east side to lure Kangryeong Daegun—fewer guards there.”
“East and west, then. No time to waste—let's split. Which way?”
“I'll take the museum. Biman me if trouble hits.”
Yoo Wol-ryeong nodded. Ju Kang-rim had planned on the museum regardless. Highest chance Kangryeong Daegun's name was hidden there.
She leaped silently over rooftops, kicking off walls toward Hamnyeongjeon. Ju Kang-rim lacked her finesse but moved quiet enough to evade ghouls.
He melted into the shadows, heading for the museum.
Main gate's got ghouls, as expected.
Ghouls beat lazy humans for guarding key spots—no mercy, no slip-ups. But Ju Kang-rim was beyond ordinary human limits.
Spotting his chance, he dashed and kicked off the wall.
Thud, tap!
Not Yoo Wol-ryeong's silent wall-run, but one leap got him to the second-floor railing. He'd jumped two stories fighting Ttakkachi before, but these ceilings were high—nearly three.
Just two fingertips hooked the edge, but enough to pull himself up.
Enhanced stats are worth it.
He cracked the window silently and slipped inside. A thick papery scent hit his nose.
Ju Kang-rim lit faint will-o'-the-wisps to scan the room. Stacks of books—an office.
Eyeing the titles, his expression turned peculiar.
...Lucky break?
Genealogy collections.
Won Gyun said Kangryeong Daegun showed up with King Gojong's spirit tablet.
Maybe because Gojong was Joseon's last king, but his tablet wasn't the final one in Jongmyo. Ju Kang-rim had a hunch.
Kangryeong Daegun was Gojong's contemporary—or younger. Obvious from the bloodline-obsessed old coot vibe. No way he'd "serve" someone younger.
A Lee clan male, same age bracket as Gojong, no historical traces.
Plus clues from Baekryeong Daegun's place had narrowed it down. His name was in one of these books.
Gonna take time.
Genealogies overflowed with names. Even filtering the living wouldn't help much. That's why he'd planned Ttakkachi first, then the boss.
Luck landed him here straightaway, but her uncertain status complicated things. Prioritize the sketchy zombie hunter or the immortal dooming Korea right now?
Not worth agonizing over.
Won't take long. Hang in there if you're alive, Ttakkachi.
He started rifling through the genealogies. But barely a minute in, he froze.
“...Found it.”
Too damn fast.
By the time Ju Kang-rim's feet hit the second-floor railing, Yoo Wol-ryeong had reached the pond near Hamnyeongjeon. But the leaf-strewn shore was deathly still. Too quiet for Ttakkachi to be hiding.
Confirming no one around, she cleared her throat lightly. A chill mist formed a tiny snowman on her palm—cute, eyeless, just nose and mouth.
“Huphuba.”
“Long time no see, Messenger Yoo Wol-ryeong! Got a job for me?”
The snowman—Huphuba—wiggled sassily, voice tiny, for her ears only.
“Looking for someone. Shin Seong-hui, goes by Ttakkachi. Uses dogs and crossbows.”
“Got it! Time for early first snow!”
Huphuba giggled windily and scattered into flakes. Yoo Wol-ryeong waited, unmoving.
Snowflakes soon danced. Each one became Huphuba's eyes, hands, ears—covering Deoksugung and City Hall Station vicinity.
“Aw, crap. Snow outta nowhere?”
Two armed organization grunts passed her tree. She didn't hide, but they missed her completely.
“Gate messing with weather?”
“Yeah? Bukhansan's a total shitshow.”
“Damn, hope it doesn't keep screwing up. Stuck north of Seoul trusting the elder, but org's in bad shape. We gonna collapse?”
“What're the elders even thinking...”
Swish.
Huphuba reformed from snow on her shoulder.
“Found her, Messenger. Near Deokheungjeon.”
Yoo Wol-ryeong nodded, slipping a coin into its mouth—black soul payment, worth a thousand nyang.
Huphuba chomped the oversized coin gleefully and melted away. The path led after the grunts.
She shadowed them silently. Two steps back, utterly undetected.
The shuttered museum plunged past quiet into abyssal silence. Ju Kang-rim crossed it soundlessly, ears ringing.
No visitors, but pre-closure exhibits seemed Buddhism-themed—classic thangkas to modern reinterpretations. Many frames empty, but massive pieces left behind.
He halted before one giant painting. In the vast hall, a single ceiling light spotlighted what looked like an Asura mural.
This was the meet spot for Ttakkachi. But a man in a suit—generously thirties—stood before it.
Glasses, crisp suit. Office worker vibe, but no normal salaryman haunts a museum at midnight, zombie apocalypse or not.
Ju Kang-rim spotted the name badge.
'National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art Director Lee Hwi-myeong.'
Matched the nameplate from upstairs. Real deal, then.
Staying for the art?
Too many died guarding masterpieces in his memories. Plausible.
One way to confirm: neutralize first, ask questions later. Foe, ally, or nobody—unknowns got subdued.
He closed fast, handaxe swinging at the man.
Shwick, clang!
The blade grazed his chest, knocking the badge flying. Ju Kang-rim stared at the man, unmoved as the axe whistled past.
He checked an expensive watch on his wrist, muttering irritably.
“Tch, thirty minutes late for our appointment. Came early for nothing.”
Appointment. With Ttakkachi.
“Lee Hwi-myeong.”
Ju Kang-rim spoke up.
“Where's Ttakkachi now?”
“Ttakkachi.”
The man turned casually, tension-free.
“Probably at Deokheungjeon by now.”
“Deokheungjeon?”
Near Hamnyeongjeon, but opposite the planned spot. No clue why the change, but at least he knew her location. Good enough.
Ju Kang-rim fired off a Biman text to Yoo Wol-ryeong. No reply yet, but marked as read.
The man noticed.
“Oh, you brought backup?”
“Yeah. More competent than me, so she'll handle that side.”
Ju Kang-rim's smile chilled. He regripped the handaxe, locking eyes.
“Which leaves just you and me. Kangryeong Daegun.”