Malice in a Jar

There is a shamanic rite called yangbap.

It is the act of trapping ill fortune in a pouch or dish filled with salt, red beans, or chili powder—things long believed to press down or chase off bad energy—and then casting it out.

And a few shamans and sorcerers began to cast covetous eyes on the act of capturing that ill fortune itself.

Malice.

Killing intent.

Strong emotion can, in and of itself, be equated with ill fortune. And unlike ill fortune, which runs on pure randomness, malice and killing intent once captured come charging with a direction all their own. Toward the target—and toward the caster alike.

Mother told me that.

Never cast a curse. That much is common knowledge—not only among shamans, but among ordinary people too.

Well. There are times when human will and human ignorance leap clean over common sense.

"Nice office. If only my shrine were even half this nice."

The spot on the back of my hand gave a sharp sting.

It meant the trace of the curse was somewhere close by.

"Resolve just this one matter for me, and I'll see you settled in a shrine of your own—a grand, splendid one."

The weary voice belonged to Song Seongjae, who, having called me here in the first place, was now flailing somewhere between his lawsuit documents and my every movement.

"And the client?"

"They'll arrive in about an hour. If you'd like to rest for a moment, the reception room is right over—"

"No. I'm going to wander around the office a bit. Anywhere I shouldn't be poking my nose?"

Song Seongjae shook his head.

"No, sir. As long as you don't go inquiring into my major case records, you may look wherever you like."

"Is that so? And where would those be?"

"The cabinets over there."

I made straight for the cabinets. Naturally—a curse would be hidden wherever no one else would care to touch.

A flustered Song Seongjae spun around and hurried after me. The materials must be sensitive indeed.

"I told you, you cannot open those! Do you have any idea what the information in there is worth?!"

"Keep it down."

I clapped a hand over the mouth of Song Seongjae, who had seized my shoulder.

Tick. Tick.

A sound you would never catch unless you were listening for it.

"You don't hear that?"

"I beg your pardon? What sound...? In any case, please step away from there."

I gave a hollow laugh. Fair enough—at that volume, no wonder it was lost in an office drowning in clatter.

I planted myself in front of the old cabinet, where the faint ticking went on and on. Beside me, Song Seongjae fidgeted himself into knots, yet somehow could not bring himself to bar my way entirely.

"How long have you had this cabinet?"

"Er... that cabinet holds the case files from my days at my previous firm. I haven't opened it once since moving to the new office."

I pointed at the old cabinet.

"Open it."

"B-but..."

"Must I say it twice?"

"U-understood. But you are not to read the records!"

Song Seongjae heaved a sigh and rattled the cabinet open.

"...There's nothing in here but—"

"There is."

I crouched down and fixed my gaze on the bottom corner of the cabinet.

Tick. Tick.

Following the sound, I hauled out the mounds of stacked documents.

"You do keep some strange things lying around."

And there, revealed at last, sat a small glass jar with a centipede inside.

"What... is that?"

Song Seongjae's face went ash-gray, and I frowned as I lifted the jar. I'd known something nasty had latched onto him, but this was genuinely vicious.

"Mugo."

And not just any Mugo—a separated one.

"What on earth is it? I have no memory of ever placing anything like that in my cabinet..."

Song Seongjae could not bring himself anywhere near the jar in my hand. I closed the cabinet and drew my face close to the glass.

Whether it had registered me or not, the centipede had coiled its body into a ring and was clicking its mandibles.

It had to be at least fifteen centimeters long. Far larger than any common centipede, and a different color besides.

An exoskeleton black as if painted over in ink. The creature carried countless curses and grudges heaped across its back. And the killing intent of the centipede itself was far too distinct to dismiss as that of a mere bug.

Tick. Tick.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The coiled centipede rapped its head against the glass, and each time it did, Song Seongjae's shoulders hunched ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a little higher.

"See it with your own eyes. Tell me what this actually is."

"Eep!!"

The moment I brought the jar toward him, Song Seongjae scrambled backward like a madman. What was a grown man carrying on like that over a single centipede for?

"Bugs... I'm rather afraid of them. I would be much obliged if you would put it away."

"Ha. Really, now."

I gave another hollow laugh. A gentleman afraid of bugs. It suited him, oddly enough.

"This is Gu poison. Ever heard of it?"

At the words, Song Seongjae adjusted his glasses and nodded.

"Ah, yes... I believe I've read about it in those martial arts novels. You seal venomous insects inside a jar and use the venom of whichever one survives to the end... since the survivor's venom would naturally be the strongest."

"Half right. That practice is called Gu poison. And when an insect raised through Gu poison is put to use in a curse, the result is called Mugo."

I set the jar down on the table. Song Seongjae went rigid, horror written all over him.

"H-half right? How so?"

"It isn't the venom that grows stronger—it's the killing intent and the grudge that accumulate. The ability to spew toxin actually weakens. But that grudge... it's a far more dangerous breed of thing than most poisons."

One look at this centipede said it was anything but overflowing with vitality—but its killing intent alone was something else entirely.

"So that thing's grudge is what's been striking down your clients—"

"I wouldn't say it's only this fellow's grudge."

The surviving insect may be the heart of any Mugo, but every bit as important is the jar that once held the countless insects that did not survive.

A jar used to raise Gu poison collects a vicious sediment of death energy and grudges. That is why a powerful Mugo is always deployed in tandem with its jar.

A curse of this magnitude would never have been worked with the insect alone. There was a fair chance that somewhere sat a jar inscribed with talismans.

The trouble was that nowhere in this building was there a single thing resembling a jar.

No wonder the curse's energy had looked scattered into fragments.

I clicked my tongue. Dispersing a curse in this fashion also meant the caster had anticipated the possibility of another shaman meddling.

"I'll take this into custody for now. It should hold for the time being."

I said, tucking the jar into my pocket. With the bug gone from view, Song Seongjae's expression recovered considerably.

"Then... can my client rest easy now?"

"I can't promise that. Let's have a look at the client first. If something ugly is about to come down on that person, there will be signs."

Before meeting the client, I ran through what had befallen the previous ones.

"The verdicts all piled up at once, huh?"

"Yes. A flood of rulings came down around the same time, so I was run off my feet. Even with every employee I had mobilized, I needed to be in two places at once."

The curse had been growing stronger case by case, and the larger the lawsuit, the stronger it ran. The later the verdict, the likelier the case was a big one—so that much was only to be expected.

And this client...

I looked over the information on the current client that Song Seongjae handed me.

"A divorce suit?"

"Yes. This time we are representing the wife... and I expect we will win."

Jeong Hyeonyeong, thirty-eight. Director of a cultural foundation, head of a gallery. Locked in a dispute over asset division with the CEO of a startup.

"This one's going to die."

I said it flatly.

I didn't even need to reach out with my black shadow to know. The centipede in the jar had begun thrashing like something demented. I turned the page with a hollow laugh.

"I'm sorry—what?"

"What is there to be so shocked about? One of your previous clients is already dead. You think this one will be spared?"

I shrugged as I said it. Song Seongjae's expression was not a pretty sight.

"I can't predict how she would die. But I don't see anything like pleasant energy around her."

"B-but you found the source of the curse, didn't you!! If you remove that bug, surely she won't die—at the very least?!"

"Who's to say? The bug is only one part of the curse. Unless the root is pulled, I'd say things will be difficult."

Song Seongjae crumpled to the floor.

"Please... Young Master. Isn't there any way you can end this...? If I lose this client too, then I am truly finished!!"

Well, fair enough—these clients were his loyal patrons. Reputation aside, his future in this industry had likely dimmed to something close to nothing.

Not that I much cared for the sight of a man worrying over lost clients more than over dead people...

But then, it also meant I could bleed money out of him with a rather lighter conscience.

I looked down ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at Song Seongjae with cold eyes.

"You certainly look desperate."

He said it from above, looking down at Song Seongjae's bowed head. Not even the directors and CEOs of major corporations ever looked at him that way.

It was a wound to his pride, deep and ugly—but there was nothing to be done. Lawyers are people who must never let their emotions show.

Superstition or otherwise, he was not a man who truly believed in any of it. But just this once, this was the only way.

"...Of course I'm desperate! Please. I'm begging you—help me!"

If only this damned curse could be unraveled and his life returned to normal, he thought he might hand over half his annual salary without complaint.

Then the air in the room sank, cold and heavy.

At the sudden chill, Song Seongjae lifted his head. And there stood Doyoung, his face swallowed by shadow.

Doyoung's voice arrived layered over a strange, alien noise. From within the shadow, his eyes glowed a luminous yellow. It was like gazing at a jewel from some far-off world.

The shadow hung thick around him, wrapped about Doyoung like armor, guarding him. Crushed beneath that presence, Song Seongjae found himself nodding, slowly, because there was nothing else he could do.

"...If it's something I can give, then yes."

"Good."

The corners of Doyoung's mouth curved into an arc, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and his eyes crinkled gently upward. Song Seongjae could not shake the feeling that he had answered far too hastily.

Doyoung chuckled low and picked up the insect.

"Well, I won't go so far as to demand your life."

And he thought—the pupils in those eyes seemed, somehow, to be slit horizontally.