The Retrograde Staff
The Jeolla Diocese and Gyeongsang Diocese were the first to leave the mountain lodge, followed by the Chungcheong Diocese. They departed separately because my father's voodoo lingered in the Taebaek Mountains area—if too many people hiked at once, they risked getting lost.
"Cult Leader, a word if I may..."
When only the Seoul Diocese—meaning just us—remained, Yun Chang-su called me over. He led me to a small room in the corner of the worship hall and handed me a cup of tea. It had a wonderful aroma, though I couldn't tell what kind it was. I was no expert on tea.
Yun Chang-su sat across from me with slow, deliberate movements, fiddling with his long beard.
"This is... hard to bring up."
"Please, speak freely."
Yun Chang-su wasn't an opportunist like Yeom Man-geun, nor did he have Ha Pan-seok's rebellious streak. Moreover, he was the only living executive who had served the First Cult Leader. If anything, he was like an elder statesman. Facing him didn't feel like cult leader to follower—it inspired genuine respect, person to person. When I urged him to speak comfortably, I truly meant it.
"About distributing the Seoul Diocese's surplus funds to overcome financial hardships."
"Yes."
"I'm truly sorry, but I think it's best if we don't accept it."
I'd have gladly given more if he'd asked. But refusing? That I hadn't expected. I found myself staring at Yun Chang-su's face. Beneath his kind, warm smile lay a resolute will.
"...May I ask why?"
He hesitated, stroking his beard before speaking.
"The Gangwon Diocese has so few followers that the money would mostly go to my personal needs. Better to give it to the Gyeongsang or Chungcheong Dioceses, where there are more mouths to feed."
It was just like him. Logical, too. But I couldn't withhold the funds. Distributing money to the regional dioceses had strong political undertones.
"...Weren't you a teacher once, Executive Yun Chang-su?"
It suddenly hit me—he'd been a teacher.
"Yes, briefly. I taught children for a short time."
"What if you started a night school?"
He looked startled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening.
"A night school...?"
"Many Voodooists can't attend regular school due to circumstances. This would be for them."
Kang Ji-a hadn't gone to school herself—though that was by choice. Still, low education levels were common among Voodooists. Yuk Eun-hyeong from the Gyeongsang Diocese had only middle school, and Yeom Man-geun had dropped out of elementary to start business, illiterate.
"You could teach, and use the funds to run it."
"I'm grateful, but I'm hardly qualified to teach others."
"That's modesty. No one in the Romanica Church—even their high priests—could match your knowledge."
This wasn't flattery. Put any educated Romanica cleric in front of Yun Chang-su, and they'd be speechless. He was profoundly learned.
"Raising Voodooists' knowledge levels resists the Romanica Church in itself. Many benefits."
"Hmm..."
"And it's a waste to use this grand worship hall only for executive meetings."
I persuaded him like this. After much deliberation, he nodded as if resolved.
"Very well... but we'll need more teachers and students."
"I'll arrange that through the other executives."
I'd collected all their contacts that morning. For teachers, Ha Pan-seok—swamped with diocese work but with time—could help. Students? Yuk Eun-hyeong's mercenaries were all educationally disadvantaged dropouts. Plus Yeom Man-geun, Kang Ji-a, and others—demand would overflow.
"Thank you for caring, but I'm sorry again. I should handle it myself."
"It's my proposal; laying the foundation is the least I can do. No need to apologize."
That settled the night school. As I rose to leave, his complex gaze made me sit back down. Something more.
"Cult Leader, do you know about reverse voodoo?"
Reverse voodoo. I'd heard of it—literally performing voodoo in reverse. Ancient Voodoo Cult Leaders had used it to cure poisoning or insanity. Others reversed restoration spells for mass slaughter. Just Legba's tales, no records, so veracity unclear.
"I know of it."
"I heard you're seeking a way to undo zombification."
"Ah, yes. How did you...?"
"Lee Jin-seong mentioned it."
My uncle worried about Jeong Yun-ah despite his grumbling. He'd researched cures everywhere, apparently asking Yun Chang-su too.
Yun Chang-su continued gravely.
"Reverse voodoo could easily undo it."
"Yes, presumably."
I nodded casually. Why bring it up now? No literature or relics survived. Possible in theory, impossible in practice. He knew that.
Unless...
"Did you find a way to use it?"
No other reason. He nodded faintly.
Shock hit, then bubbling excitement deep in my chest. With reverse voodoo, I could restore zombified Jeong Yun-ah. The guilt around Jeong In-ah would fade. Hope dawned.
But Yun Chang-su's smileless face felt ominous.
"Ancient leaders used staves."
"Yes, carved from soul tree branches."
"Correct. Know the name of the third branch's stave?"
I tilted my head, recalling: first for life, second death. Third...
"Resistance."
"Yes. Or retrograde."
Both meant defying the natural order. The Retrograde Staff from the third branch. Chosen leaders defied fate, dying miserably or forging new paths. Legends, anyway.
Key point: it enabled reverse voodoo.
Yun Chang-su blinked slowly.
"That's why... I found its location."
*
"So, what'd you talk about with Yun Chang-su?"
On the drive back, my uncle at the wheel asked. Night cloaked the highway in darkness, but his night vision held strong.
"Just... some info on reverse voodoo."
"Reverse voodoo?"
"Using spells backward. Related to undoing zombification, sorta."
I glossed over it. No point detailing for my spell-ignorant uncle.
He perked up at the zombification link.
"Tell me more. Learned how? Or training needed?"
"Too long to explain."
"C'mon, kid. I'm driving."
I summarized: Reverse voodoo reverses spells, can restore zombies. Requires the Retrograde Staff.
"Retrograde Staff? Where? Exists?"
"Retrograde, not role. And yes."
"Then let's fetch it. Where?"
His face lit up—hope for Jeong Yun-ah.
"Saudi Arabia."
"...Oh. Saudi."
Silence crashed. He drove, I stared out, Kang Ji-a dozed.
Per Yun Chang-su, the Retrograde Staff was exhibited at Saudi's National History Museum. Problems: a museum. And Saudi's national museum.
Saudi-Romanica relations sucked. Islam vs. Romanica—common knowledge. Entry denied for sure.
Bigger issue:
Can't even dream of going until the civil war ends.
Legba tsked softly. Saudi raged in religious civil war: Shia, Sunni, Romanica missionaries. Corpses littered streets, homes bombed to wastelands. Middle East broadly suffered "Arab Winter"—post-Arab Spring chaos.
Steal the staff amid that? Impossible.
"Baron Samedi... lied to me...?"
His "soon find a way" for Jeong Yun-ah irked me. Not quite a lie—he said find, not restore.
"Seon-woo."
Gazing at moonlit ridges, my uncle called.
"Yeah?"
"Seatbelt... on?"
His voice trembled, staring ahead. Sweat soaked his hair, dripping from his chin. I handed him tissues from the back.
"What's wrong?"
"I... uh... Seon-woo. I..."
"I see the Grim Reaper... right now."
"What?"
"You... next to you. Passenger seat."
Not hallucinating—his fear was real. I glanced beside me.
A silk-hatted figure with red eyes smiled at me.
"...Baron Samedi? Why're you here?"
Too abrupt to welcome.
His playful voice resonated in my mind, not ears.
"Only if the situation calls for it..."
"Not the first. Honestly."