Monotonous Hospital Days
The routine at the hospital was monotonous. I'd eat my meals, and occasionally a dedicated healing priestess from the Florence Foundation would come by to bestow blessings and healing on the wounds scattered across my body and my rotting right arm. The stab wound in my gut and the minor cuts elsewhere had healed completely by the second treatment. Scars remained, as scars do, but the speed of recovery was astonishing enough to startle the priestess.
"......Most of your injuries have healed nicely, thank goodness, but your left hand just won't improve."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Everything else is healing at an unnaturally fast rate, but this spot is stubbornly refusing. You'll need consistent treatment for now. You scheduled discharge right away after your stomach wound closed—why not push it back a bit?"
The priestess said. I'd set my discharge for the very day my gut wound healed. The healing priestess, my attending physician, even the hospital director had all objected, but I wouldn't budge.
Lying around in a hospital bed was stifling, and more than that, I had mountains of work piling up outside. First and foremost, I hadn't offered sacrifices for nearly two months. I needed to make offerings to the Loa before they started complaining of hunger.
Next, I had experiments to run with voodoo spells, and I needed to meet Yeom Man-geun and Yun Chang-su about Voodoo Cult operations.
"Pushing it back might be tough."
"Why the rush? Your body's not fully healed yet—your lungs, your hand, all of it."
"I'm just antsy to get out. And at this point, can't I switch to outpatient visits?"
"Aigoo, such a stubborn one......"
The priestess let out a wry chuckle. We'd gotten fairly close over the past few weeks of daily treatments—it would have been weirder if we hadn't. She gazed pityingly at my left hand, wrapped thick in bandages, then smiled faintly and spoke.
"By the way, that kid—is she your little sister? Blood-related?"
"Who?"
"The tiny one who visits every day."
The priestess gestured horizontally in the air, as if drawing a line at kid height. The tiny daily visitor had to be Kang Ji-a.
"Not blood-related. Hmm......"
Kang Ji-a wasn't my sister to begin with. I wasn't sure how to explain it. As I hesitated, the priestess watched me with sparkling, intrigued eyes that felt a bit intrusive.
"Cousin, then? Anyway, you two seem really close. She comes every day to check on you."
"Yeah. We get along."
"It shows. How old is she? Middle schooler?"
Kang Ji-a visited almost daily without fail. Technically, it wasn't visiting—it was reports on how the Voodoo Cult was running. But to outsiders, she probably looked like a devoted little sister doting on me.
"Uh...... around middle school age."
"'Around'? Either she is or she isn't. Anyway, she's so cute. She always toddles along like pat-pat-pat. Feels like she's the only one whose footsteps echo."
The priestess mimed stomping her feet excitedly. She clearly adored Kang Ji-a. The girl's youthful appearance was a boon—it avoided misunderstandings or suspicion. Sometimes she even won people over just by existing.
Knock knock.
Before the priestess could finish gushing, a knock sounded. The door opened, and three clergymen entered—the same ones who'd grilled me right after I regained consciousness.
The priestess scrambled to her feet, bowed to them, gave me a quick goodbye, and hurried out.
"......Sorry to keep bothering you. How's the body holding up?"
The grim-faced clergyman asked. He looked far more haggard than the first time I'd seen him.
"Good. My right arm's almost fully healed."
"That's a relief. You're one tough kid. Aspirant holy warrior?"
"No, paladin aspirant."
"Oh? Could end up as my junior, then. Haha."
The clergyman laughed awkwardly and pulled a document envelope from his coat, handing it to me. He had his subordinates turn off the TV, close the wide-open window, and draw the curtains before continuing.
"Enough chit-chat. Check the papers first."
I skimmed the documents quickly. They were packed with details on Gu Jun-hyeok and the Satanists—abilities, objectives, that sort of thing. Like a research paper.
As I finished reading, the clergyman nodded at the papers.
"Nothing major. The Papal Office is drafting a new manual for Satanist encounters—this is the foundational paper. If anything doesn't match what you saw, point it out?"
"Can a mere student really weigh in on a paper for the Papal Office?"
"The guys who wrote this are holed up in offices, buried in theory. They've never seen black magic up close or fought a real battle—greenhouse priests. Your firsthand account's worth more. Practical, too."
The clergyman grinned. I'd told him I knew Gu Jun-hyeok was a Satanist—no point hiding it, no way to anyway. I'd collapsed on Eden Hill covered head to toe in blood. To explain why I was there and how I got hurt, I had to admit contact with Gu Jun-hyeok.
"......I only saw it, no time to analyze, so I'm not sure. But from what I saw, nothing seems off."
"Fair enough—you were out of it then. Got it."
Of course, I didn't spill everything—like how I subdued Gu Jun-hyeok. I said glowing red-hot blades suddenly flew in mid-fight, slicing him up. The clergymen chalked it up to a miracle from God.
Either way, I was the only one who'd deduced Gu Jun-hyeok was a Satanist and fought him directly. They praised my insight and guts, leading to these consultations. Whether it was genuine advice-seeking or surveillance with advice as cover, who knew.
"By the way, since you've helped so much, we owe you. Someone'll drop by your place soon—part of the 'benefits' we mentioned."
The clergyman whispered with a sly smile.
They'd promised monetary and social rewards for my cooperation: diligently share Satanist intel, and keep quiet about Gu Jun-hyeok being one. The benefits were payoff and hush money.
"Can you send it to school instead? Planning to apply for dorms soon."
"Oh? Sure. Wherever you get it is fine."
My cover ID listed an empty house—under Uncle's name. I could claim it, but it'd be a hassle, so school it was. He agreed without suspicion.
A brief silence fell. In the quiet, the clergyman stared at me, eyes sharp like he was dissecting my face. Our gazes met; he stroked his chin and spoke.
"Paladin track means Central Knight Order's your goal, right?"
"Yes."
"Makes sense. With your skills, you'll get in easy. No student your year matches you, and you've got merit from this incident."
"Thank you."
"No need—it's your talent."
The clergyman smiled kindly, at odds with his rough face, and continued.
"Might end up working together soon. I'm Central-affiliated, after all."
He watched me as he said it. His narrowed, smiling eyes felt menacing. They probed my expression.
He stared long like that, then spoke as if it just occurred to him.
"Off-topic, but...... ever heard Voodoo Cult's clashing with Satanists?"
"Yeah, I've heard."
I kept my face neutral and nodded slowly.
"Right. Rumors everywhere of Voodoo pounding Satanists. Your take?"
"Heretics wiping each other out? Sounds good to me."
"No, that's not the point."
His smile vanished. He glared with a stiff face.
"Satanists are our enemies. And Voodoo's hunting them nationwide."
"Sorry, not sure what you're getting at......"
"Enemy of my enemy is a friend, right? Some radical theologians even argue we should fold Voodoo into Romanica. Bit of a leap, but not entirely wrong."
"......"
"So, what's your view?"
He used loaded words like "작자" (fellows) and "마냥" (utterly) unconsciously. His desired answer was clear. Any pro-Voodoo lean, and his suspicion would deepen. With Voodoo branded heretical, views on such theologians were predictable.
But outright bashing Voodoo wouldn't do. I needed a neutral stance—not defending, not condemning.
"......Depends on why Voodoo's targeting Satanists."
"Hm?"
He raised a brow, intrigued.
"Could be to mend ties with Romanica, or just doctrinal clash."
"Go on."
"Latter means no room for talks. Former? No reason for Romanica to play nice first. 'Mending ties' implies Voodoo won't abandon their faith for absorption."
I wracked my brain for that. Sounded like a devout Romanica-raised student.
Finally, he smiled, satisfied.
"Good point. You sound like a top student."
"Haha...... not really."
"Sharp kid. Here, take this."
He handed me a business card with a grin.
Mun Yo-seop
Heretic Inquisitor
"If trouble from this hits or someone else asks about Satanists, call me right away."
"Ah, yes."
"Even for career advice or whatever—not just official stuff. Anyway, we'll leave. Shouldn't overstay when you need rest."
He left with his two subordinates. Silence lingered in the empty room.
I examined the card he'd left.
I flipped it front to back, reading the letters and numbers, committing them to memory. Even if someone tore or burned it, I'd remember his name and number. Name, phone, workplace—all memorized, then into my wallet.
"Fishing for reactions, the bastard......"
I'd ask Uncle or Kang Ji-a to background him. Mun Yo-seop suspected me. Maybe just for facing a Satanist, or some slip in talk. Thought chats would ease it, but suspicion thickened daily.
Couldn't brush this off. Had to act before it worsened irreversibly.
(To be continued)