Daughter's Phone Call
Her daughter's phone call—gasp! She woke with a sharp intake of breath. Sunlight was beginning to filter through the window. So-yeon blinked several times, staring at the world beyond the glass. Ah. Her eyes felt painfully dry. She could tell they were slightly damp. It seemed she had cried in her sleep again. The pillow was soaked through as well. But she had grown used to this by now.
She rose unsteadily, limbs heavy. Through the window beside the bed, the entire world lay blanketed in white. Today was Christmas. A white Christmas. The sight made So-yeon's chest constrict even tighter. How desperately her daughter So-hee had waited for this day. The girl had said it over and over—how wonderful it would be if it snowed on Christmas...
Yet tragically, So-yeon had no idea where her daughter was. She drew the curtains shut, blocking out the view. She didn't want to see it. It only deepened the pain. With a habitual sigh, she staggered out of the master bedroom.
The empty living room remained exactly as it had always been—desolate, lonely, filled with cold air. For a moment she thought she saw a small child darting across it on tiny legs. She thought she heard bright laughter, saw the girl running toward her just-risen mother with a joyful cry of "Mommy!" before throwing herself into her arms with a soft poof.
So-yeon flinched. She reached out, but the vision vanished. Only the freezing living room remained. Wearing a haggard expression, she headed for the bathroom. After a quick wash, she moved to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
She froze again. Inside were several side dishes—most of them So-hee's favorites. The sight threatened to overwhelm her once more. Her eyes reddened so easily these days that it worried her. She had to go to work, after all.
"Haah..." She let out a deep breath and forced the emotion down. Roughly wiping her tears with her sleeve, she barely managed to swallow her sobs. After several steadying breaths, So-yeon calmed herself enough to settle for a glass of milk for breakfast. She returned to the bedroom, finished preparing to leave, and paused at the front door.
Once more she looked back at the forlorn living room. The image overlapped with another: her little daughter waving brightly. 'Mommy! Have a good day!!' But the vision faded as quickly as it had come.
"Yeah... I'll be back..." she murmured in a low, hoarse voice. Then she opened the door and stepped outside.
Morning. Hwan opened his eyes and gazed at the window where sunlight poured down. A small bird covered in white feathers perched beyond the glass. As he stared at it blankly, the bird chirped with innocent, song-like notes, then scratched at its winter-fluffed feathers with its short beak. Soon it flew away into the distance.
Hwan yawned, drew a deep breath, and sat up. Fatigue pressed down on him; his body felt drained of all strength, as though every limb were sagging. He yawned again, looked outside once more, and faced a world painted pure white. Had the heavy snowfall from last night finally stopped? Dark clouds still lingered in the sky, yet sunlight filtered through them in slender rays. The snow seemed to have paused for now, but there was no telling when it might begin again. The news had predicted it would snow all day.
As expected, a considerable amount of snow had accumulated outside. Seeing it, Hwan felt a flicker of worry. Snow on the roads would cause problems. Especially today—Father Choi had requested his help, so even on Christmas he would be busy. He had to travel quite a distance, and the thought of driving in these conditions only added to his concern.
As he scratched his head in frustration, a long, slender hand reached out from behind him. The soft touch gently embraced him. Then those delicate fingers traced his chest in a sensual caress. Against his back he felt skin that was impossibly soft and plush. Hwan shivered at the contact. A low, bewitching laugh brushed his ear—greedy, sinister, and utterly wicked. Yet even that laugh sent a strange thrill through his body.
"You're up early..." The voice was languid and sticky, sliding into his ear like warm honey. Soft lips gently nibbled his earlobe. Hwan flinched again and let out a small, uncomfortable groan.
"I-it snowed... a lot."
At his words, Miho's gaze naturally shifted toward the window. Snow blossoms had bloomed across the tree outside.
"Then driving won't be easy..." She had already been considering whether they might need to take the train. "How about we just stay home today?" She offered him a playful, wicked smile.
Hwan's face twisted into a troubled frown. He didn't want to. People needed help right now.
"It's not something you need to worry about, is it? Besides, lately you haven't made any progress toward your own goal. You've simply been answering their requests. This doesn't balance the scales at all."
She had seen straight through his hesitation. A bitter smile touched Hwan's lips.
"They might be using you. They could already have the information and are simply exploiting you—exploiting us—a little longer. Maybe they're deliberately hiding what they know."
"No way..."
"You never know, do you? Especially after we've solved so many cases they couldn't handle. Father Choi and the church won't want to let us go easily. They'll keep us inside their fence, watching us. After all, we're not human. To them, we're the perfect tools—useful until we're not. If you died in one of these fights, who would mourn you? Who would question it? Who would seek revenge?"
Her voice rode on hot breath, sinking into his ear like a blade. It pierced sharply into his quickening heart.
Yes... What he wanted was news of his mother. She might still be alive somewhere, enduring terrible abuse even now. He had to find her. He couldn't afford to waste time like this.
"But... without their help, it's true we can't locate its whereabouts. You haven't forgotten what we were like before we met Father Choi, have you?"
That. They still knew nothing about the entity. No information at all. They didn't even know what it looked like or what traits it possessed. Ironically, after all this time they had learned absolutely nothing.
From what they had gathered, the being had accepted offerings from the villagers, protected the village, and bestowed special favors so the people could live in abundance. According to Father Choi, an entity with that level of power was no ordinary gwoeyi. If compared to a demon, it might be a great demon—perhaps even equivalent to Satan.
To find such a being, they had no choice but to rely on Father Choi and the church. Father Choi also had connections in Buddhist circles and knew several renowned shamans. There were exorcists and shamans in other regions who handled similar cases. All their information flowed through Father Choi. Using that network, they were tracking the gwoeyi that had taken his mother.
Before that, they had simply wandered the streets in despair.
Yet Miho still seemed displeased with Father Choi.
"I don't know if he'll truly help us. It's already taken quite a while and we've gained no information at all. Right?"
Hwan had no answer. Just as she said, Father Choi had not provided even a single piece of the information he sought. He wore a bitter expression and lowered his head. What was the right path? Was accepting Father Choi's help truly wise? Could he really stay like this?
According to the Gwijamoshin, his mother was still alive. Knowing she might be suffering countless humiliations, how could he remain so calm?
In his anxiety, doubt slowly raised its head. Seeing him waver, Miho's smile grew even more seductive. Once again her soft hand stroked his chest. Then she pressed a sticky kiss against his neck.