The Beast at the Window
The magic beast grooming its feathers suddenly raised its head. Those pale, murky eyes glared at me, as if trying to pierce right through my pupils. I stared back into those white eyes, peering beyond them to Gu Jun-hyeok.
The beast tapped the window a couple times with its massive beak, then cracked its mouth wide open.
"Open up, please!"
"Why should I?"
"Open up! I won't hurt you! Open up! I won't hurt you!"
The beast's voice was sickly sweet yet raspy, birdlike yet thick and viscous. It was anything but pleasant to the ear.
When I didn't open the window, it began pleading even louder.
"Open up! Open up! Open up!"
"......Lower your voice."
"I can't hurt you! Open up!"
Knock knock.
At that moment, a knock came from the front door. The beast finally stopped yelling. Instead, it wedged its beak into the window crack, forcing it open.
I locked the window tight and headed to the door.
"Yes. Who's there?"
- Hey, it's the dorm supervisor. Did you bring a friend inside? You're not supposed to.
"No, not a friend."
- I've been hearing weird noises. You didn't bring a girlfriend, did you?
"No...... I was just watching something. I'll keep the volume down. Sorry."
I glanced at the beast straining to pry open the window from its perch on the sill. If word got out that such a grotesque thing had slipped into Florence—not just into the academy, but trying to break into my room—the school would erupt in chaos. It might even spark baseless suspicions of collusion between me and the Satanists.
- ......That's odd. Mind if I come in for a sec? Or just crack the door. I just need to check.
The supervisor's voice dripped with suspicion. He'd probably slip inside if I opened the door even a little. Never mind the beast on the sill—for now, my room was thick with suspicious purple mist from my recent spell practice.
I kept the door locked as I replied.
"The door...... might be tricky right now."
- Why?
"I just got out of the shower and I'm not dressed. For real."
- You showered? But earlier you said you were watching something.
"Yeah...... the water noise drowned it out, so I turned it up, and it must've leaked outside."
- ......Got it. Just be more careful.
The supervisor sounded begrudging. I pressed my ear to the door. I heard him shuffle down the hall and descend the stairs. Only then did I relax and return to the window.
The beast was still grunting futilely at the unyielding glass. For a taxidermy doll under Gu Jun-hyeok's control, it was acting awfully dim-witted. If it really meant to get in, smashing the window with its beak would've been smarter than this pointless struggling.
"O-pen...... open up, pleeeease....... I can't hurt...... you......"
And it kept repeating the same phrases. Nothing beyond "open up, please" and "I can't hurt you." That last one even sounded awkward, like it hadn't learned proper speech. Maybe Gu Jun-hyeok was dead, and this was just the remnants—a taxidermy gone autonomous, no longer under his command. That would explain the low intelligence.
"......"
No, that defied the natural order. Creation was God's domain. A lowlife like Gu Jun-hyeok couldn't touch it.
Conclusion: He was alive. But for some reason, he'd lost the finesse to control his dolls precisely.
Click.
I unlocked and slid the window open. If I was right, the beast's claim of being harmless was probably true. If I was wrong, I'd likely die or get badly hurt.
But I wasn't wrong.
"I can't hurt you, I can't hurt you......"
As expected, the beast didn't explode or attack. It just flapped its wings timidly and stepped inside. I yanked the curtains shut the moment it entered, then drew the Recreation Spell: Sword of Dawn.
If it tried anything funny, I'd ram the blade straight into its forehead.
"I can't hurt y—urk!"
"What the—!"
Suddenly, the beast started dry-heaving. I aimed the sword at its forehead. Even without Preservation's power, I could nail it from this range.
Splat!
Something spewed from the beast's mouth—a black pouch, mouth tied shut. No clue what was inside.
The beast heaved a few more times, then spread its wings threateningly. I thought it was attacking, but it just launched out the open window into the sky. The gust from its wings whipped the curtains wildly.
Then, silence.
"......"
I eyed the pouch. No idea what it held.
"Ogoun. Check if there's anything explosive inside, just once."
[I'll pass. I'm not a metal detector...]
"Please."
[No iron, but that doesn't guarantee no explosives.]
Ogoun vanished after that. No iron meant no mechanical bombs, at least. No reason to hesitate.
I opened the pouch.
"What, I got spooked for nothing."
Inside: a single sheet of paper, folded many times, and an olive branch. No black magic engravings.
Nothing dangerous, whatever the case.
[You should've been a little scared. Or rather, more cautious—that's the precise term.]
Legba spoke up as I unfolded the paper. I could sense his disapproval. Obvious why—he was scolding me for opening a mysterious pouch from a beast without a second thought.
"You think I'd die from something like this?"
Over-worrying just wasted time.
Legba sighed.
[You could. After all that, you still trust him?]
"I don't trust him, that's why it's a trap."
Assuming Gu Jun-hyeok was alive, he'd be locked up in the Papal underground prison or somewhere similar. He wouldn't send a bomb or black magic just to screw with me. If anything, he'd be praying I stayed safe. He knew I was the Voodoo Cult Leader.
He hadn't snitched to the Romanica Church yet. So he could threaten to expose me unless I obeyed. Or use me to break out.
This letter was probably part of that scheme.
[How can you be sure?]
"If it were me, I'd do exactly that."
I shrugged and fully unfolded the paper.
Sure enough, a letter from Gu Jun-hyeok. The handwriting was horribly crooked but legible. I smoothed out the creases and read.
I'm sending one of my pretty taxidermies to deliver this letter. I figured you'd open the window for me. We're besties, after all.
Can't write much. The longer it takes, the more I forget how to control them. Electricity's melting my brain. It grows back quick, but memories don't.
Wanted you to know I'm alive. There's a whore's rat in the center. Heard practicals are soon—probably targeting then. The whore's out for revenge. I hate the whore.
Let's hit the beach sometime! Bye, bye!
"Heh."
That was it. Ink smudges after the last line suggested more to say, but conditions weren't right. As he said, he'd forgotten how to puppeteer properly.
"A whore's rat......"
I reread it twice. "There's a whore's rat in the center"—and the warnings that followed—nagged at me.
A spy in Romanica's upper echelons? But what was "center" exactly? Central Knights? Holy Warriors? Priests?
And who was the "enemy" they wanted revenge on? Nothing clear.
"Doing this on purpose to fuck with me."
[Seems like it.]
I scanned for hints again, but nothing. Guess or prepare for everything. Guessing was too risky—better cover all bases.
But preparation alone wouldn't cut it. Practical exam issues would delay missionary trips. I needed to handle threats discreetly to keep schedules intact.
No more delays.
"......Yes, it's me. You busy?"
I had preparations to make.
*
Bread, raw fish, and assorted Western dishes adorned the table amid flashy decorations. Wine and whiskey bottles piled at the edges, some already empty.
One man, face flushed redder than the rest, suddenly looked up and raised his voice.
"That bastard Mun Yo-seop. Never on time. Minimum ten minutes late, or up to thirty, an hour if he's really dragging ass."
"Guy has no sense of time."
"Exactly. He's already an hour and a half late!"
"Busy chasing some clueless kid's tail, from what I hear."
It was a gathering of Central Knights inductees from Mun Yo-seop's class—but the organizer himself was MIA. A golden opportunity for them. They could vent gripes they'd never air to his face.
The griping snowballed.
The instigator bowed his head, biting his lip in frustration.
"What does His Grace see in a guy like that......!"
"Whoa, here we go again. Don't cling to the past. Makes you uglier."
"If getting ugly lands me Inquisitor, I'd gladly rot. If I could...... fuck, that dogshit prick!"
His pointless curses at absent Mun Yo-seop drew pitying looks. Everyone knew the rift over the Inquisitor spot.
Years of the same rant at every meetup—it was veering from pitiable to pathetic.
Slide.
The sliding door opened. Someone entered.
The gossips froze, faces taut.
Mun Yo-seop shed his coat, hung it neatly, and plopped into an empty seat.
"Had places to be. Phone calls too."
He scanned the group, smiled at the empty bottles.
"Sorry I'm late—drinks on me. What'd I miss?"
"Nothin'...... just catchin' up on what you've been up to."
The soberest one fielded it.
Mun Yo-seop nodded, poured whiskey, downed it. Winced slightly.
"Too strong. Any wine?"
"......Hey, Mun Yo-seop."
Raw hostility in that voice. The gossip ringleader. Face overheated, veins bulging grotesquely in his whites.
"Don't you think you're too brazen? Two hours late!"
"Apologized already. Paying the tab. Technically one hour thirty-four."
Mun Yo-seop parried coolly.
The man's face flushed purple, then drained white. Lips and eyes narrowed. Veiny gaze bored into him.
Atmosphere turned icy.
"......Apology? We supposed to accept that?"
His voice quivered with rage.
"He's wasted. Yo-seop, bear with it. We'll send him home."
"Let go! You all hate him too!"
"Come on, man......"
Fight imminent. One tried to defuse, but fury had snowballed beyond control.
Mun Yo-seop chuckled mid-pour.
"What more do you want? Confession? Over this?"
"This? You said this?"
"Yeah, this."
Mun Yo-seop grinned.
"Oh yeah, you're at some rural parish now, right? Confess to you then!"
"......"
"Sign of the cross first? Remind me—been ages."
He cackled. Eerie laughter echoed in the silence.
The insulted man's face blanched. Fists trembled, eyes locked unblinking.
He snatched an empty bottle.
No time to stop.
Crash!
The bottle flew menacingly. Mun Yo-seop sidestepped easily. Dodging a drunk's toss was child's play.
Shards glittered on the floor under lights.
Mun Yo-seop calmly poured another, sipped.
"Strong stuff makes him like that. Someone get him home before trouble."
"Thanks. No idea what's with him today......"
"Let go, you fuck! Mun Yo-seop, you dogshit bastard!"
Dragged out, he still jabbed and cursed. Mun Yo-seop ignored, drank more.
No buzz, just bitter tongue. Party ruined—pointless to stay.
He stood, exited. Lit a cigarette.
"Thanks for holding back earlier. Really."
His smoking companion—the teetotaler Central Knight following "asceticism." Odd he smoked, but Mun Yo-seop just nodded.
"What choice? Wasn't mad anyway."
"Your temperament...... not good, just unique."
"Just say good."
Mun Yo-seop grinned.
"Didn't know he hated me that much."
"Nah, not hate. Just......"
"Spare the platitudes. People can hate. I'm easy to loathe."
The man paused mid-drag, head low, conflicted.
"He's good-hearted. Don't hate him too much."
"Nah, his honesty? Refreshing. Getting mad over that'd tire me out. Better than......"
Those who bared raw hate openly? No threat. Watch the sober ones with fake smiles—they hid their true faces. Booze revealed truth; avoiding it screamed deception.
Thus, Mun Yo-seop eyed his ascetic colleague warily.
'Review Central Knights for suspicious elements.'
Do Seon-woo's words. Not random— he suspected something.
Source unknown, but caution never hurt.
"Got worries piling up lately."
Mun Yo-seop baited casually.
The man raised a brow—curious, intrigued.
"Something up?"
"Florence practicals—asked my advice. Issues picking venue and time."
"Hm."
"You know the big incident last time. Faculty's spooked."
Start by narrowing suspects.
(Continued next chapter)