Chapter 3: What Grudge Did This Detective Earn?
Using Vengeful Spirits in a Sal (Killing Curse) was a specialty of Chinese sorcerers. Daoist lineage, shaman? Or perhaps a curse from Jang Cheonsa, a top-tier Special Grade Taoist master from the Quanzhen school. Japanese sorcery mostly involved shikigami-style techniques, directly summoning and controlling spirits like the Lust Ghost. By comparison, Chinese sorcery was far more varied. Not just jiangshi arts or gu poison, but plenty of curse sorcery that launched Sal using Vengeful Spirits.
Detective Nam Gyuho was fated to die from a particularly potent Vengeful Spirit.
...It had nothing to do with me.
"I'm handling the missing persons case in Cambodia."
"I see."
The Vengeful Spirit hovering over Nam Gyuho's head tilted its own in curiosity. The arrogant fucker stared right through me. I ignored it and asked Nam Gyuho, "Any luck finding my mom?"
Nam Gyuho's hardened expression didn't change as he shook his head. "Your sister got lucky. She was spotted by another Korean in a Cambodian market and rescued. The one silver lining is that a special task force has been formed for the Cambodia disappearances."
"......"
Special task force meant a dedicated investigation unit. It had taken three months after U Minjeong vanished for them to get their shit together. Probably the rising number of missing Koreans in Cambodia, plus election season pressure from public opinion, finally lit a fire under them.
"Are you the one in charge of finding my mom?"
"Yes. Local cooperation is tough, so progress is slow on our end, but we've picked up intel on the crime syndicate shifting from Cambodia to Dubai. We're on it."
I nodded. The Cambodian cops weren't doing jack, but the Korean police were. Election ploy or not, props for moving.
"Please keep pushing."
But my request would echo into the void. This detective was about to drop dead from a Sal.
......Should I save him?
"Detective, by any chance, have you pissed off any Chinese guys?"
Nam Gyuho's eyes lit up. His gaze on me intensified. He started to say something, then chuckled and shook his head. "Can't discuss an ongoing investigation."
As expected, he'd crossed some Chinese sorcerer.
"Something that happened while looking for my mom?"
He shrugged lightly and nodded.
If this detective died... finding my stepmom would get a hell of a lot harder.
That's when it happened.
"Actually, about Kang Mina... there's something I wanted to ask regarding the tattoo on the patient's abdomen."
"Tattoo?"
"Ah, a Special Grade sorcerer treated it, so the scar's gone now. But here's a photo I took before it faded."
Nam Gyuho showed me a photo of Mina's abdomen. On her lower belly, right over her womb, cruel letters carved with a knife stood out. The scabbed lines formed stark text.
[10 Billion. No Contact, She Dies.]
Chills ran down my spine. I'd gone radio silent on my stepmom for about ten days, so they'd used Mina to send a message. A warning to me.
I steadied my breathing and feigned total ignorance. "What does this message mean?" I turned the question back on Nam Gyuho.
A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. He'd been dead sure it connected to me. "You don't know either...? Anything ring a bell? Looks like a message to someone."
"I have no idea..."
That's when it happened. The wicked bastard hiding behind Nam Gyuho's head poked its face out, like it'd been holding its breath and finally surfaced. Eyelidless, unblinking whites yellowed and bulging, right in my face.
Cheeky little shit.
'You can see me!!'
The Vengeful Spirit snarled at me. I couldn't believe it. A mere First Grade Vengeful Spirit daring to challenge me? And coming within arm's reach?
Nam Gyuho was clueless. I swatted it away like a fly.
Whoosh.
Pop. It burst with a sound, vanishing on the spot. No talismans, no hand seals, no incantations needed for exorcism. Just touch it, and it's done.
With that, the Sal binding Nam Gyuho was lifted.
"Ugh..."
A light jolt made him rub his temple. "Huh?"
"Feeling better?"
"How'd you know? I've had this killer headache lately."
"This hospital must have good vibes."
I pursed my lips. No need to advertise my powers.
Nam Gyuho chuckled softly and bowed his head. "If anything on that 10 billion message comes to mind, give me a call."
I flipped through the business card he handed me and tucked it safely in my wallet. This guy... that's why he was easy prey for Sal. Ghost magnet constitution—open Gwimun gates drawing spirits like flies.
"Sure, I'll reach out if I think of anything."
After parting with Nam Gyuho, I wheeled Mina out. She stared blankly at distant mountains, silent as ever. Discharge was quick.
The attending doc, out for a smoke, gave me last-minute reminders. "Even if the patient acts strangely, don't intervene—just observe. It's part of recovering her memories."
"Got it. Thanks for everything."
I thanked him and wheeled her to the elevator. "Why the hell go to Cambodia and end up like that. Tsk." His mutter reached my ears, but I ignored it. Same thoughts here.
I didn't know how much Dad's assets in Cambodia were worth, but we'd gotten zilch, and this was the result.
Wheelchair, car, wheelchair again. Turns out wheeling around ain't easy. Our house stairs? No wheelchair access.
"Walking hard?"
No reply from Mina, naturally. Pupils dilated, eyes drifting upward—who knew if she saw me or the sky?
I let out a soft sigh. 172cm tall, killer figure, dancer's lines—she'd been on the cusp of idol debut. Her vocals? Meh. But her dancing would've topped Korean idols easy.
Now, legs shattered, Achilles severed, found begging in Cambodia like a cripple.
"Life's... fucking fleeting."
She used to spew shit nonstop, curses flying. Conversations? Only if it involved swearing at me. That prickly bitch now sat blank-faced in her wheelchair, loose patient gown barely hanging on.
I knelt before her, unlocked the armrests, and leaned in, sliding arms under her back and legs.
"Up."
I hoisted her in one go. As her body lifted, the gown flopped open, exposing massive tits. That soft, heavy flesh pressed right against my arms and chest.
No reaction from her, but her body was alive. Stepping up the first stair, my palm on her thigh felt something odd. Warm, slick fluid trickled from her inner thighs, wetting my hand.
"Holy shit..."
Mina's Cambodia-trained cunt was hypersensitive. Still staring blankly into space, but her body instinctively leaked at my touch.
Tremble. Her body quivered faintly in my arms. Nostrils twitching—sniffing my scent? The slick flow from her crotch grew warmer, thicker, dripping like a faucet down her thighs, sticky on my skin.
Didn't know pussy juice had that viscosity, like cum...
Just being held by a man had her in heat. Perfectly broken, Cambodia-modded fucktoy.
I gripped her tighter, climbing the stairs princess-carry style, her pheromone-dripping body against mine. Top-tier looks, my sister or not—I'm a dude. Rewired into a cocksleeve in Cambodia? If that didn't get me hard, I ain't human.
Had to arch my back so my raging dick wouldn't poke her. Her head lolled onto my shoulder, hot breath grazing my neck.
"Mina... you with me?"
Still blank. But her body reacted. Under my arm, her heart raced against her soft, heavy tits squishing on my chest. Fluid dripped from between her legs, pooling on the stairs. Her temp burned hotter than room air.
Fuck... horny as hell.
Remembered her warm hand on my cock in the hospital room. Call that Lust Ghost-possessed nurse for a fuck? Got her number. Choi Sujin, right? Decent mouth on her.
I reined in my urges and carried her to her bedroom. Eased her onto the bed, step by step. Legs limp, toes dragging.
Once laid flat, her eyes fluttered shut.
Gurgle.
Her stomach growled, breaking the silence. Hunger signal.
- She's barely conscious, so feed her porridge without fail and give her meds on schedule.
Doc's words echoed.
"I'll boil some porridge—stay put."
I headed to the kitchen. Cooking's one of my strong suits. Fridge had prepped abalone for diets. Dumped rice cooked in premium Sin Dongjin into a pot, added water. Stirred slow with a wooden spoon, scraping the bottom. No rush, no sticking. When it bubbled, in went sliced abalone. Drizzle of sesame oil.
Nutty aroma bloomed. Topped with chopped green onions, sesame seeds, and a dash of premium Japanese soy.
Spoonful in—hot, creamy, soothing.
"Perfect. Top-tier."
Trays in hand, heading back—froze in the hallway.
Half-open door: faint bed springs creaking, ragged breaths leaking out.
Squeak. Creak.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
I held my breath, peeked through the gap.
Gown shed like snakeskin under the bed. Mina, fully nude. One knee up in an M, right hand shoved deep between wet thighs.
Squelch. Schlick. Plop.
"Hah... ngh... hik...!"
Fingers grinding her swollen clit, roughly plunging her hole—sounds filled the room. Eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading, tits heaving wildly.
Couldn't forget my hospital touch—alone, instinct took over.
Her drenched slit glistened. Overwhelmed by the obscene sight, I gripped the tray hard.
"Fuck. This slut... masturbating again?"
Doc's words resurfaced.
- Even strange behavior, don't stop her—just watch.
Squelch-squelch-squelch. Pussy juices sloshing filled her room.
I slipped in quietly with the porridge, footsteps silent. Her hand pressed harder, wider over her mound. Gown crumpled on the floor. Perfect nudity. One knee raised, fingers teasing her crotch slow, deliberate.
Fingers dug into clit and puffy labia. Breathing ragged, tits heaving unevenly. Eyes still closed, but sweat gleamed on forehead and nose, lips quivering.
Pure instinct driving her masturbation. Following doc's orders, I watched silently. No intervening.
This was on doctor's recommendation.
Chapter 1. My sister returned from Cambodia. The End.