A Horrific Spectacle
It was a horrific sight. Exactly as Mun Yo-seop had described. This was nothing like hunting down beasts or demon species that popped up in the city. The image of the Satanists that Ha Ye-jin had known until now was merely the tip of the iceberg. What lay before her eyes now was the true face of the Satanists, hidden beneath the surface.
Bodies roasting in the flames, scattered entrails, and a naked woman and Ji Hye-seong dancing and singing as if reveling in it all... Everything surpassed imagination.
"Ha Ye-jin, I need your blessing support!"
At that moment, Mun Yo-seop patted the back of Ha Ye-jin, who was vomiting repeatedly from the shock, and spoke. She couldn't properly hear him. She didn't even have the mental presence to register his words.
"H-huh...? What did you just s—"
She barely caught her breath and lifted her head, but Mun Yo-seop was already gone from the spot. He had slipped into the crowd far off, dancing amid those reveling in Satan's feast. His movements were as beautiful as the flickering flames in the plaza's center—no, even more so.
"A bouquet...?"
Mun Yo-seop's steps were light. His motions were fluid and graceful, without a hint of waste, like watching a single dance. He swung the bouquet he held. When it struck the woman's head, red and yellow petals scattered beautifully, like a scene from a movie. Even the blood flowing from her head looked like spring petals drifting in the wind.
Crack!
Mun Yo-seop's bouquet smashed into the woman's head once more. The sound was dull and massive—unbelievable for a bouquet of flowers. That was the first time Ha Ye-jin realized flowers could be weapons.
"Ah, do you know when a Satanist is most beautiful?"
Mun Yo-seop looked down at the woman, who had collapsed but wasn't dead yet, her frail body trembling, and said, "It's right like this—when they've been smashed beyond recognition."
Crack, thud, crunch...
The bouquet relentlessly pounded the woman's face. With each strike, her features crumpled and lost form. The face that had once held deep eyes and a high nose, embodying立体 beauty, was now a flat, mushy plane. The vibrant bouquet of colorful flowers was now uniformly painted red with blood, dulled to monotony.
"Now it's finally worth looking at."
Mun Yo-seop gazed down at the unrecognizable ruin of her face and said dryly. He irritably wiped the blood splattered on his own face and moved toward the next woman.
Mid-stride, Mun Yo-seop turned his head toward Ha Ye-jin. In the backlit shadows of the rippling flames, she couldn't make out his expression. That made it all the more eerie. His face seemed swallowed by the darkness, devoid of any expression.
"Ha Ye-jin! Looks like you didn't hear me—I asked for blessing support earlier!"
"Y-yes...! B-but behind you, behind!"
"What? I can't hear you—"
Crack.
The ominous sound echoing through the plaza cut off Mun Yo-seop's words. While he was giving orders to Ha Ye-jin, one woman had crept up behind him—and then the sound rang out. But it wasn't Mun Yo-seop who fell; it was the woman. Her neck twisted grotesquely as she sprawled on the ground. Dead in one blow, it seemed.
Mun Yo-seop prodded her face with his foot. The sensation at his toe felt less like flesh and more like a mannequin or doll. Come to think of it, all thirteen women had identical faces. They weren't human—something made to look human.
"No need for guilt, then."
Mun Yo-seop muttered as he wiped away the blood. Even if they had been human, he had no intention of feeling guilty—it was just something to say. With a smile tugging at his lips, he charged at the next woman. When one fell, the next. Eliminating thirteen women with no combat ability was child's play for him.
After dispatching them all, only one remained: his comrade and friend, Ji Hye-seong.
"No, my friend. What on earth is that getup? Aren't you ashamed, prancing around at your age?"
"... Mun Yo-seop, I'm not playing. I'm clearing the path for 'Him' to arrive."
"Oh, really? Then how about a bet!"
Mun Yo-seop pulled a single flower from the bouquet and continued, "Whether clearing the path for Him or whatever comes first—or me smashing your skull with this flower."
"You talk too much."
Crunch!Riiip, zzzzt...
Ji Hye-seong casually tore off his right shoulder and ripped the arm free. He tossed the severed arm into the flames blazing at the plaza's center. Engulfed, it charred black and began twisting into a grotesque form. Fingers sprouted from the burned hand. The nails at their tips sharpened razor-keen. The thin, sagging skin of age hardened into scale-like armor upon touching the fire.
Ji Hye-seong picked up the transformed arm and pressed it to his shoulder. Tendrils from the mutated limb reattached it to his body.
Mun Yo-seop watched in admiration. "Did you learn magic tricks too? Attaching and detaching arms like that—"
Zzt.
Mun Yo-seop, who had been taunting leisurely, suddenly felt a sinister aura and stopped, stepping back. It was an odd sensation. Closing the distance any further felt like certain doom. He'd never felt this level of danger against countless demon species, beasts, or Satanists.
Screeeeech—!
In that instant, a deafening roar filled Mun Yo-seop's ears. Ji Hye-seong was swinging his elongated nails horizontally, as if slicing the air itself.
Slash!
A long gash appeared across Mun Yo-seop's chest. An unbelievable torrent of blood poured from it, soaking his clothes dark red in seconds. With bloodshot eyes, he stared at the wound.
"Ah, I missed the mark. This time, I'll aim properly—for your neck."
"... I don't get it. Another magic trick?"
"Black magic, yes."
Ji Hye-seong raised his nails and continued, "You can't dodge my attacks. As long as you're in my sight."
Screeeeech...
His nails began moving horizontally, slowly. Mun Yo-seop rolled his eyes, searching for escape. But in the open plaza, there was no hiding from Ji Hye-seong's gaze. A prickling unease crept over his neck—the unmistakable touch of death. Actual death loomed right before him.
"... Amen."
At that moment, Ha Ye-jin's clear voice echoed softly through the plaza.
Boooom—!
Holy power surged from her body, forming a cloud of light on the cavern ceiling. From it poured red hail—eerie yet crystalline, like the first angel's trumpet plague from Revelation.
Clatter, clack—!
The hail was plentiful but small and weak. It couldn't inflict meaningful damage on Ji Hye-seong. But it could obscure his vision, if only briefly. And that sliver of time was more than enough for Mun Yo-seop. He needed but an instant—and this was overflowing.
Interrupted unexpectedly by Ha Ye-jin, Ji Hye-seong blocked the scattering hail with his grotesque arm and snarled, "Think this parlor trick will work?"
In truth, it did. The red hail and the dust it kicked up forced him to hesitate. Black magic's immense power came with heavy costs, demanding utmost caution per use.
Ji Hye-seong frantically scanned through the hail and dust for Mun Yo-seop. He didn't need a clear view—a silhouette would suffice. Right? No. Left? No. Above? But lifting his head revealed only Ha Ye-jin's light cloud and falling red hail. No sign of Mun Yo-seop.
Where, where is he...
"Looking for me? I'm right behind you!"
Thud.
Mun Yo-seop appeared at Ji Hye-seong's back. He plucked a flower from his bouquet and jammed it into his head. The bloom sank deep. Ji Hye-seong's body pitched forward and collapsed.
He twitched his fingers, trying a belated attack, but they wouldn't move. He couldn't even lift his arm. Yet he still breathed—saved by the Satanists' so-called "chakra."
Squatting, Mun Yo-seop looked down at the fallen man and said, "You thought your eyes could track me? I'm faster than you think."
"Without that damned bitch, you'd be dead already. Your severed head rolling in the dirt."
"True enough. Ha Ye-jin saved my life. If that bothers you, maybe get some reliable allies of your own?"
"... Soon, He will come."
With his dying breath, Ji Hye-seong rasped on, "Before Him, you'll be less than an ant crawling—"
Thud!
His final words went unfinished. Mun Yo-seop had jammed another flower into his head.
"He's coming, huh? Can't wait. Hope it's the bastard I've been waiting for."
Thud, thud.
Mun Yo-seop kept stabbing flowers into Ji Hye-seong's head as he spoke. "Twelve years of atonement are about to bear fruit. Thanks to you, I've found reason to live again! I offer my sincere gratitude!"
Thud, thud, thud.
He relentlessly adorned the head. Soon, it resembled a floral arrangement. Satisfied, Mun Yo-seop stood.
"Who would've thought! You weren't meant to be a Satanist—you should've been a flowerpot! What a waste of talent. I pity people like you."
"..."
Ji Hye-seong said no more. He wasn't breathing. Dead, it seemed.
Mun Yo-seop tossed the remaining flower to the ground limply, straightened his clothes, and approached Ha Ye-jin. Exhausted after her miracle recreation, she sat slumped. Her unfocused eyes on the approaching man made her look like the dead.
"Thanks. You saved me."
"..."
Ha Ye-jin silently scanned him up and down. The chest wound looked deep, and the blood loss was severe. She tried to channel holy power for a healing circle, but he stopped her.
"I'm fine. This is nothing. Can you stand? I'll help if you're struggling."
"... No, I'm okay. It's nothing."
Feigning strength, Ha Ye-jin rose. Her legs wobbled, threatening collapse, but she steadied her mind and walked alone. She refused even his support. She didn't want it.
Limping alongside her out of the cavern, Mun Yo-seop spoke. "Once we're out, contact the Holy Knight Order right away for cleanup."
"Yes, should I make the call?"
"I'd appreciate that."
Smiling, he continued—the same smile he'd worn while killing the thirteen women and Ji Hye-seong. "Those were truly vile creatures. Demonic. Or maybe demons themselves."
Ha Ye-jin stared silently at him. While he fought, her gaze had shifted from his face to the Satanists', then back again. But she couldn't tell who was the heretic inquisitor and who the Satanist.
She said nothing, lips sealed.
*
Seong Ha-yeon had been waiting in front of the dorm for ages for Do Seon-woo. They'd agreed to meet by noon, but even at 12:30, he hadn't shown. She'd called, but no answer.
"He said he'd come, and now..."
She muttered, frowning. The sun was brutally intense today, piercing her parasol. Already irritated by him, the sunlight only worsened it. This time, she really couldn't hold back.
"Ah, sorry I'm a bit late."
His brazen voice reached her grinding teeth. She whipped her head around with a scowl and glared.
"A bit? Is this 'a bit' late? Thirty minutes—"
"Sorry, took time picking clothes."
"..."
Swallowing her anger, Seong Ha-yeon eyed his outfit. Not overdressed, but neatly put-together—unlike his usual uniform or casual wear. It gave a fresh vibe. His build was perfectly average—not scrawny or bulky—and the fit suited him. Objectively, he wasn't bad-looking.
"I'll let it slide this once."
"Thanks."
"... Don't be late next time. Come on, we're short on time now."
"Why short on time?"
"Because you were late."
She led him to the school gate, where her summoned driver waited. She boarded first, then he did. Confirming him inside, the driver pulled away.
Leaning against the window blankly, Seong Ha-yeon decided to ask what had nagged her since last time. "Why does my father want to meet you anyway?"
"Curious."
Do Seon-woo answered without hesitation. Curious? She couldn't fathom what about.
She tilted her head. "Curious about what?"
"This and that. And we'll see him often ahead, so better to get acquainted early."
"... Often ahead?"
Pondering his words slowly, she caught the implication late and flushed in panic. "W-what are you even thinking?!"
"What?"
"No, planning that far into the future already..."
"Doesn't feel that far."
His face was impassive, tone cool and matter-of-fact—but the words weren't. Her cheeks burned. She'd known he was willful, but this bold? We'll see each other often, so let's get acquainted... It was practically a confession! And not that far off? He planned a proper one soon.
With a pout, she mulled how to respond if he asked to date formally. Reject citing school rules? Ask for time? Or...
Click.
"We've arrived, Seong Ha-yeon."
Lost in thought, they'd reached home. The driver opened the door; she nodded thanks and alighted gracefully. Do Seon-woo followed.
She glanced at his face. Ambiguous half-smile. Unfocused eyes. Utterly inscrutable. Well, he always looked like that. Reading his mood from expressions was futile from the start.
At the gate, she rang the bell.
Beeeep—!
The gate swung open, revealing the garden. Surveying the long-unvisited family mansion, Seong Ha-yeon startled at something.
Not the vast garden or ornate exterior—she'd grown up here; no surprise there. What shocked her was her father, Seong Yu-da, emerging from the mansion to greet them in the garden.
He strode across purposefully.
"A bit later than planned."
His first words to her. No warm greeting expected, but she felt a pang of disappointment. She forced a smile. "Sorry, we crossed paths en route..."
"Fine, you're here safe—that's what matters."
Cold as ever, he turned to Do Seon-woo and offered a handshake. "You're Do Seon-woo, right? Pleased to meet you."
"... Yes, Do Seon-woo. An honor."
He accepted courteously. Textbook politeness on the surface. But watching him greet her father, Seong Ha-yeon had to tilt her head.
A strange expression crossed his usually blank face.
"..."
It was clear wariness. Hostility toward the man.
(To be continued next time)