Hmm...
“Hmm……”
Seong Yu-da inhaled the bitter aroma of the tea called Witch's Blood, savoring it as he let out a low hum. He was watching the black box footage recorded by the Eastern Holy Knight Order during the incident.
The video was too dark and low-quality to make out individual faces clearly, but the general situation was discernible. A man and woman, intoxicated by black magic, slapping each other's cheeks. The foolish paladins and priests who approached without anti-magic masks and ended up ensnared by the black magic themselves. As time passed, the fight grew more savage. The demonic energy leaking from the black magic circle thickened, and so did the holy servants' hatred toward one another. At the center stood a boy named Do Seon-woo.
He calmly assessed the situation, confirmed the consciousness of the woman serving as the black magic's conduit. He searched for a way to turn the tide. There was none. Then Seong Ha-yeon appeared. Do Seon-woo issued orders to her and shattered a glass vial. The holy servants' rage focused on Do Seon-woo and Seong Ha-yeon. The boy, who had shown unnatural composure for his age until now, faltered. Regaining his calm, he began drawing a Holy Mark.
────!
Miracle Recreation. The wind blew in, whipping up waves; the waves gathered into a vortex. The relentless gusts summoned dragon-like swells that engulfed the holy servants' bodies. In the end, even Do Seon-woo was swept into the storm.
Seong Ha-yeon, who had hesitated, saw this and resolved herself, slicing her palm. The completed Purification Blessing circle dismantled the black magic circle, ending the crisis.
After rewinding the footage several times, Seong Yu-da turned off the screen, nodded with a smile.
“Impressive.”
“……Pardon?”
Seong Ha-yeon, seated across from him, blinked in surprise, responding reflexively. What was impressive? Do Seon-woo's miracle recreation? Or her own Purification Blessing circle…… A faint hope flickered in her heart.
“The boy's name…… Do Seon-woo?”
“……Yes.”
“He possesses skill beyond his years. Remarkable talent.”
Seong Ha-yeon bowed her head. Father has no intention of praising me, after all…… She clenched her fist, hiding the scar on her palm.
Meanwhile, Seong Yu-da replayed the miracle Do Seon-woo had recreated. Though he ultimately lost control and got caught in the storm himself, recreating a miracle of such immense scale was talent of staggering proportions. Comparable—no, surpassing—many active-duty holy servants in pure ability.
“What of the invitation to join the Theological Society?”
His voice was low and measured as he asked. Seong Ha-yeon snapped out of her daze, lifting her head.
“It…… was refused.”
“Why?”
Seong Yu-da sounded genuinely surprised. Seong Ha-yeon had her suspicions. It must be because of what she'd done in the past. From what her friend had told her, she'd hurled abuse at Do Seon-woo whenever she was bored. Just because his gaze creeped her out. But she didn't even remember it, and she'd shown up out of nowhere to invite him without so much as an apology. Of course he'd refuse. She could only imagine how repulsive she must have seemed to him. The thought made her stomach churn.
“He didn't say…… so I'm not entirely sure……”
She trailed off, lowering her head. Seong Yu-da tilted his head slightly.
There were kids like that sometimes. Obsessed with testing and proving their own abilities, they rejected any outside help. They held this strange conviction to become holy servants through their solitary talents, without relying on groups like the Theological Society. Convincing the conviction-bound was no easy task. Once, Seong Yu-da himself had followed someone with unyieldingly strong beliefs. They never followed others; instead, others followed them, drawn by their unique charisma. But none of them met a good end. Not a single one.
Shaking off the memory, Seong Yu-da set down his teacup untouched and rose abruptly.
“It might be best to arrange a personal meeting soon. And……”
His gaze turned worried as he looked at his daughter.
“Be careful when you go out at night.”
“……Yes.”
“You never know when something like that might happen again.”
With a bitter tone, Seong Yu-da entered the study together. Left alone, unwanted memories began surfacing in Seong Ha-yeon's mind. The dry, indifferent stares treating her not as human but as prey. The hunters who hacked off her screaming hair haphazardly, then moved to sever her arm. They were albino hunters, collecting albino body parts for Voodoo rituals. Seong Ha-yeon was a victim of albino hunting.
*
I revised Seong Ha-yeon's proposal based on the gathered data. There wasn't much to add; mostly, I just stripped out her nonsense. Thanks to Legba translating the books' archaic languages into Korean, it didn't take long.
Once finished, I opened a book titled 'List and Information on Active/Imprisoned Satan Cults in Korea'.
This one didn't need Legba's translation—it was already in Korean.
The core forces of Satan cults active in Korea are two: those bearing the names of the Seven Deadly Sins, 'Wrath' and 'Envy'. Of these, 'Wrath' was captured alive in 19□□ and is imprisoned in the Papal underground prison.
I couldn't pinpoint the exact year—the relevant part had been slyly torn out. Not natural wear, but deliberate sabotage. Who could it be? A student would be one of the Seven Holy Mark holders; a teacher……
Come to think of it, could a teacher be a Satanist? Pointless speculation. Moving on.
Wrath's trait is regeneration. During subjugation, his limbs were severed, yet they regenerated in seconds. Decapitation, horizontal or vertical bisection—nothing worked. He self-mutilates periodically, presumed to be a ritual offering flesh and blood to the demon he serves.
I kept reading, but it devolved into endless tales of holy warriors' exploits during his capture—no mention of taxidermy. I skimmed ahead.
*Legion Commander operated in California, USA, absorbing the Satan cult's Pride branch before leaving a note: 'Call me Legion Commander…… Because…… I want a cool nickname too……' Self-proclaimed, but accepted officially due to commanding multiple branches.
The Legion Commander assembles corpses into taxidermy dolls and controls them. Uses perfect taxidermy as a medium for black magic, obsessively fixated on them—delusions of artistry suspected. Infiltrated Korea amid the chaos of the Holy War seven years ago; caused the 'Tower of Corpses' incident in Incheon two years ago, then vanished. Post-incident sweeps of residents failed to identify him.
This guy's the one, Legba said.
I turned the page without responding.
The name 'Envy' ties to the Legion Commander's childhood. Limited intel suggests he loved his birth mother. Jealous of his birth father, he made a demonic pact, skinned and killed him, then stuffed the skin with cotton and sawdust as a gift to console his grieving mother. Rumors of homosexuality lack evidence, as gender remains unknown.
“……”
It was incomprehensible. Loving his mother, jealous enough to murder his father—that much I could grasp with effort. But gifting her his father's taxidermied corpse to cheer her up……?
Not for nothing is it a Satan cult. Expect an alien moral compass.
I nodded faintly at Legba's words and continued. No real leads—just padded prose from a lazy author.
I returned the books to the return shelf and left the Central Library. My thoughts turned to the madwoman who'd been the black magic conduit—Gu Jun-hyeok's mother. The Satanist loved his own mother so much he killed his father for her. If Gu Jun-hyeok was the Satanist, he'd used that beloved mother as a black magic medium. It defied common sense. Or maybe trying to apply common sense to Satanists was the folly.
It's complicated. Why not simplify?
“How much simpler can it get?”
Depends on your perspective.
Legba's vagueness only deepened my confusion. He never gave straight answers on Satanist deductions. Not helpful.
Has he caught whatever ails Baron Samedi……?
I sighed and headed back to class.
*
I polished the revised proposal during morning breaks, emailing it to Yeo Min-seo just before lunch. Afterward, I strolled the walking path with Jeong In-ah and Gu Jun-hyeok.
“If we assume that, there's no end to it. We should stick to the given info.”
“Dude, if we're judging properly, we gotta consider the endgame too, right?”
“Ugh…… You're impossible.”
Gu Jun-hyeok sighed. Jeong In-ah and he had been locked in heated debate since before lunch. The topic: What weapon to grab in a zombie apocalypse? She championed the baseball bat; he, the sharpened bamboo spear. So practical, productive, highbrow.
“Look, say the zombie thing ends. With a bat, you can play baseball after.”
“The premise of it ending is ridiculous!”
“What's so ridiculous?”
As Jeong In-ah pressed, Gu Jun-hyeok sighed again.
“Fine, zombie apocalypse hits. Food? You hunting food with a bat?”
“What about your spear? Spear gonna get food?”
“Spear you can whittle and eat when hungry. You eat the bat.”
“You some kinda panda? What kinda──”
The argument dragged on, voices rising. I fell back, distancing myself. No desire to be lumped in with that childishness.
Though distanced, I eavesdropped meticulously. Observation—and surveillance. I hadn't dropped my suspicions about Gu Jun-hyeok yet.
“Plus, spear's got range.”
“Yeah? How you pulling it out after stabbing? Get bit yanking it, turn zombie yourself.”
“Don't pull—just skewer the next one. Kebab style──”
“──Hey! You even allowed back at school!?”
A bellow from the gym cut through their banter. A male student yelled gleefully in a voice grating through puberty or whatever.
“What the……?”
Jeong In-ah frowned; Gu Jun-hyeok shrugged cluelessly. Mesmerized, they crossed toward the commotion. I followed.
Up close, the ruckus-makers were our class's ex-Bae Seong-hyeon crew.
“Dude, it's been forever. No contact—what you been up to?”
“Skin's even paler now. But you look fed, at least?”
They swarmed someone, asking after him, tossing playful jabs. Reactions varied, but the joy on their faces matched.
At the center, the boy scratched his head sheepishly, flashing a shy smile.
Jeong In-ah stared, face hardening.
“……Bae Seong-hyeon?”
Bae Seong-hyeon—the expelled bully—stood there in immaculate uniform, brazen as ever at Florence.
(To be continued)