The Priest's Warning
BACKTICKCHAPTER_TITLE: The Father’s WearinessBACKTICK
Father Choi’s head was streaked here and there with premature gray, and he looked to be in the upper half of his forties. As always, he wore a pair of thick gold-rimmed glasses, and above all else, he possessed a robust physique. The muscles beneath his clothes were so pronounced that they strained the fabric visibly. Had he not been wearing his clerical attire, no one would have guessed he was a priest.
“Father Choi…” Hwan spoke, and the priest, still seated in prayer, slowly opened his eyes. He turned toward Hwan with a warm smile that always carried a trace of regret. The smile was not simply because he had been summoned so early. The news from last time had already reached him, he had said; Hwan had handled it well. But Father Choi’s eyes still held that same heavy, unspoken sorrow.
“Calling you this early… I’m sorry. I did receive the report, though. You said it’s all resolved?”
“Yes… luckily, the woman possessed by the gwoeyi seems to have recovered as well.”
“I’m truly relieved. If you had been even a moment later, she would have been in grave danger. If a child of the gwoeyi had been born, there would have been no turning back. Your timely arrival saved her. I owe you more than I can say.”
Hwan shook his head. “Speaking of which, I thought this case might be connected to the gwoeyi I’m chasing. Did we harvest anything useful?”
Father Choi asked again, and Hwan offered only a bitter expression. The priest knew him well enough not to press. A deep sigh escaped Father Choi’s lips. After a moment of hesitation he glanced at the cross in front of the altar.
“So that’s it…” He made the sign of the cross out of habit, then spoke softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more… and yet I keep asking you for favors.”
“No, Father. I don’t mind. If this is what allows me to keep living, I’m content. Besides, if it weren’t for you, I would still be wandering aimlessly. You were the one who guided me when I lost my way. You’re my savior.”
“You flatter me too much.” Father Choi smiled awkwardly, but Hwan believed every word. He remembered the days when he had no idea what to do, even with Miho beside him. How to begin? How to find his mother? He could not wander the world at random. Then Father Choi had appeared, offering salvation when despair had consumed him.
Father Choi had also felt the same spark of hope the moment he saw Hwan. He had known the young man was no ordinary human. In fact, he had seen straight through the hidden Miho. At first he had thought Hwan was merely bewitched by the fox. So he had followed, planning to rescue the boy from the fox’s power, and had even fought Miho herself. The strength he had shown then was on par with Miho’s—though she had already lost most of hers. In the end, Hwan’s truth had cleared everything up. He had rushed forward to explain it all. Father Choi had known the truth as well. He had suspected the tragedy in the village was no simple cult ritual but the work of something far stranger—something born of the gwoeyi.
Luckily the conversation had gone smoothly. Father Choi had wept with him, then pledged to help. Most of all he had sensed Hwan’s desperate wish to recover his lost mother, and so he had taken him in. But no trace had been found. Father Choi himself felt the same frustration. Hwan was far too precious; his tragic fate deserved better. The priest regretted that he could not help more, yet he kept asking. And as the years passed, the fear that Hwan was slowly losing his human form had grown heavier still.
Father Choi’s gaze drifted backward. In the back seat Miho sat with arms crossed, face twisted in open displeasure. Of course the priest felt the same way. He knew she hated him. And knowing the fox hated him even more. If it weren’t for Hwan, he would have exorcised her long ago.
“…Unfortunately I cannot say this case is connected to the gwoeyi you’re pursuing. But… help is desperately needed.”
“I can do anything you ask. Please tell me what it is.”
Father Choi nodded, still looking troubled. He lifted a thick folder from the seat beside him and handed it over.
“These documents contain the name of someone who needs your help.”
“Again, is it possession?”
“No… not quite. Explaining it is difficult… perhaps. The gwoeyi you’ve faced so far may not be exactly the same as this one.”
The conversation ended there. Hwan had agreed to Father Choi’s request and was already turning to leave the church when the priest called him back.
“Forgive me for asking again.”
Hwan smiled and shook his head. That gentle refusal only weighed on Father Choi further. The priest knew his heart was black with worry, even if his face remained calm.
Turning to Miho with a cold stare, he warned, “Remember I am watching. Fox spirit… if anything happens to this child, if you break the contract, I will never forgive you. This is not a mere warning.”
Miho snorted through her nose and turned her head away, clearly annoyed.
Father Choi sighed inwardly. The atmosphere grew heavier. Hwan, sensing the tension, stepped between them.
“I should go now.”
Father Choi had no further words. He stepped back, the distance between the fox and Hwan a living contract. The source of her power was the very life force that kept Hwan breathing. If she perished, Hwan would be consumed by the Fox Bead’s runaway energy. If Hwan died, she would lose the bead and become nothing but a powerless fox after centuries of accumulated power. They were bound in symbiosis, whether either liked it or not.
Still frowning, Father Choi looked at Miho once more before turning to Hwan.
“Be careful. If you learn anything more, contact me immediately.”
“Yes! Thank you, Father.” Hwan bowed deeply.
Father Choi disappeared into the church. As Hwan watched his retreating figure, he walked back to the car. Once inside, Miho slid into the passenger seat as usual and spoke bluntly.
“I really don’t like him.”
Hwan chuckled, now used to her tone. “Still, he’s a good man.”
“Hmph! Who knows? Ordinary people can’t be trusted. And from everything I’ve seen, the more ordinary they seem, the more treacherous they become. Especially with that look of pity in his eyes—who knows what dark thoughts hide behind it?”
“He has no expectations of me.”
“Why? He’s asked for favors more times than I can count.”
“He’s also helping me find my mother. Right now, his support is exactly what I need.” Hwan answered seriously.
Miho clicked her tongue, still displeased. She glanced at the modest church through the rearview mirror. Hwan’s words could not be denied. Up to this point, Father Choi’s help had been the greatest. It was because of him that Hwan had become a priest and that the prayers had carried real weight. Without him, Hwan would have wandered the world endlessly. The car’s engine roared to life, and the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
The person Father Choi needed help for lived in one of Seoul’s hospitals, so the drive would cut through the city’s crowded center. Halfway there, waiting at a red light, Miho spoke again.