Shadows Invade the Museum
Kim Jin-seo wandered the museum in silence. Even though she was grouped with Kang Dae-man and Yeo Min-seo, there wasn't much to talk about. And even if there had been, she wasn't the type to start a conversation.
She walked quietly until they ran into Ma Yu-hyeon's team: Han Su-ryeon and Seong Ha-yeon. Han Su-ryeon, who had been chatting animatedly with Ma Yu-hyeon, spotted Kim Jin-seo and widened her eyes.
"Oh! Where've you guys been? I was gonna ask if we should just stick together from the start, but we finally meet now."
"Just wandering around. There were a lot of interesting things over there!" Kang Dae-man replied to Han Su-ryeon's question.
Kim Jin-seo glanced at Han Su-ryeon, then shifted her gaze to Ma Yu-hyeon and Seong Ha-yeon. There were clearly supposed to be four in their group, but only three were present. Come to think of it, Do Seon-woo was missing.
She craned her neck looking for him, but he was nowhere in sight.
"...Where's Do Seon-woo?" Kim Jin-seo asked Han Su-ryeon.
But Han Su-ryeon seemed too busy talking with Kang Dae-man to notice. Ma Yu-hyeon, standing beside her, scratched his head and spoke up.
"He said he had to hit the bathroom and dipped out for a bit."
"Ah...."
"Yeo Min-seo, why don't you act like you know me?"
Ma Yu-hyeon's aggressive question toward Yeo Min-seo drowned out Kim Jin-seo's sigh of disappointment, which went unheard by the others. Yeo Min-seo, who had been wearing a sour expression the whole time, furrowed one eyebrow and looked up at him.
"What, do I have to pretend to know you just 'cause we crossed paths once?"
"Obviously."
"Bullshit."
"Lately you've been getting all uppity, Min-seo. Wanna taste my fist?"
"Ah, what the fuck did this asshole eat wrong? Why you picking fights all the time lately?"
Ma Yu-hyeon watched Yeo Min-seo growl with a grin on his face. He seemed to enjoy getting cussed out by her. They bantered sometimes amiably, sometimes viciously.
"Huh?"
Then Han Su-ryeon, deep in conversation with Kang Dae-man, turned her gaze toward Kim Jin-seo. She scanned Kim Jin-seo up and down and suddenly let out an exclamation. Her eyes lingered on the skirt Kim Jin-seo was wearing.
"That skirt's pretty! It's a different style from usual, right? Don't you normally wear them super short?"
"Yeah."
Kim Jin-seo nodded in agreement. Today, she wore a long skirt that reached her ankles. She'd heard that exposing a lot of skin wasn't ideal in Islamic countries, and with the intense sun, the risk of sunburn was high. For someone who usually opted for shorter clothes for mobility, this was a bit of a style change on her part.
"It suits you so well. Being tall means anything looks good on you."
"No, it's not that big a deal...."
"Hmm, not the height? Maybe it's 'cause your face is pretty?"
"...."
Kim Jin-seo clamped her mouth shut at Han Su-ryeon's excessive praise.
The two teams, who had gathered by chance, chatted briefly before splitting off to continue touring the museum. Han Su-ryeon suggested sticking together, but Ma Yu-hyeon argued it would be too cumbersome with such a big group, so they went their separate ways. Han Su-ryeon seemed a bit disappointed to part from Kang Dae-man and kept teasing him until the end.
They were silently touring the museum again when—
Bang—!
Someone roughly flung open the museum doors and stormed in. It was a burly man in black clothes. Dozens more followed behind him, marching in perfect unison.
"What the hell are those guys? Children of the dark or some shit?" Yeo Min-seo spat with a hollow laugh.
*
I followed the staff member's guidance. He said something as we walked, but I couldn't understand it right away. Legba translated for me, and only then did I grasp what the staff was trying to say.
"It's an honor. I'm glad I could help," he says.
"Mm...."
I just nodded without replying. No need for words there. A nod should suffice.
The staff led me to a control room tucked in the corner of the museum's second floor. The dim interior was lit only by the eerie glow of CCTV screens monitoring every corner of the museum.
Through the screens, I could see my group admiring the artifacts. Kim Jin-seo, Kang Dae-man, and Yeo Min-seo's team appeared focused solely on the exhibits, not exchanging a word. Makes sense—those three don't have much to chat about. Yeo Min-seo doesn't get along with Kim Jin-seo or Kang Dae-man.
Meanwhile, Han Su-ryeon, Seong Ha-yeon, and Ma Yu-hyeon's team seemed lively, chatting as they went. Seong Ha-yeon mostly stayed quiet, with Han Su-ryeon and Ma Yu-hyeon carrying the conversation.
The staff pointed to one of the CCTV screens and said something.
"That's where the staff is. He'll shut down the CCTV and security systems there," Legba translated.
I nodded, and the staff inserted a key into a lock beside the screen and turned it. Clunk. A drawer slid open, revealing two levers. He pulled them down. Click. The screen went dark.
Not content with free access to the control room, he could also manipulate the CCTV and safeties at will. Definitely not some random staffer—he must hold a key position overseeing the museum.
The staff said something else, a hint of anxiety on his face.
"Even this won't make it easy to steal the staff. That's what he's saying," Legba conveyed.
"Mm."
I nodded. Shutting down CCTV and security alone wouldn't cut it for stealing the staff. That's why I'd brought Damballa here.
Come to think of it, I should explain to the staff that Damballa would cause a commotion. But how? Language barrier, and it's not something I can demonstrate physically.
Repeat exactly what I say.
Legba spoke then, in the staff's language, slowly and clearly so I could mimic him. I repeated his words verbatim.
The staff replied, Legba translated, and I repeated again. After this exchange, relief finally washed over the staff's face.
I followed him out of the control room. The museum was still peaceful. He glanced back at me and said something.
"He'll guide you to the staff's location. The paths are complicated, it's far in a corner—hard to find alone," Legba said.
I nodded. Perfect—if he'd go that far, even better.
As I walked with his guidance, I asked Legba, "What'd you say back there?"
"A snake will appear and cause a ruckus, but don't panic and hide. It's all planned." That's what I told him. He asked if the museum might collapse; I said it could but not badly, and he won't be held responsible. He thanked me.
Exactly what I wanted to convey. I inwardly admired Legba's wisdom.
The museum's second floor overlooked the first. I leaned on the railing, peering down as I followed the staff. Evening in the museum was quiet, few tourists around. Not many travelers would bother with a museum anyway. Good thing—crowds would've complicated this plan. Too many people meant higher risk of getting caught stealing the staff or injuring bystanders in Damballa's chaos.
Thud—!
That's when it happened. A noise from the entrance halted both me and the staff. I turned. Someone had shoved the doors open aggressively and strode in threateningly. Dozens more followed the lead man in perfect step. All in black clothes—loose, flowing robes like the ones I'd seen at the local temple that morning.
I first thought they were Islamic clerics on a group tour.
"...."
I realized something was wrong when the staff looked at me quizzically. He alternated glances between the black-robed men entering and me, then spoke.
I waited for Legba's translation.
"Are they Voodooists too? Is that your group?"
Of course not. If I'd brought Voodooists, it'd be elites like Kang Ji-a, Yuk Eun-hyeong from the Gyeongsang Diocese, or Yun Chang-su from Gangwon—a small, precise team. Besides, Voodooists don't move so conspicuously.
I shook my head instead of answering. The staff's expression hardened.
I looked down at the black-robed men lining up on the first floor. At least twenty of them. Tourists whispered, staring.
Whoosh.
They donned black hoods in unison. Black metal objects emerged from their loose robes. Guns. Pistols, rifles, even something like a small cannon.
And I spotted the symbol tattooed on the neck of the leading man. Familiar. A goat.
Rat-tat-tat-tat—!
He fired into the ceiling. Warning shots. Lights shattered, windows exploded, glass shards rained down. Tourists huddled, ears covered, trembling.
The man aimed at a screaming staffer's head on the first floor and shouted something. One staffer taken hostage. Pure chaos.
I ducked low, peeking at the scene. Han Su-ryeon, Ma Yu-hyeon, and Seong Ha-yeon's team, out in the open, knelt in surrender. Kim Jin-seo, Kang Dae-man, and Yeo Min-seo's hid behind a pillar. A nasty gash on Kim Jin-seo's arm—probably from the glass.
Time to act. But my head wasn't turning right. Hadn't used Intoxication Spell much lately. Couldn't prioritize: subdue the black-robed men first, or secure the staff now...?
"...."
I set down my bag. Damballa slithered out cautiously. It swayed its head slowly, awaiting orders. I extended a finger.
"Bite."
...Ah, I see.
Crunch! Damballa bit my finger. No pain. Blood poured from the tip.
I drew on the floor with it. Vèvè for Sobo and Ogoun.
Sobo's symbol finished first. Purple glow emanated faintly, pulsing like lightning intermittently.
Lightning blackout engulfs the museum—and nearby buildings.
Kaboom—!! All lights in the museum vanished. Not just here—every building nearby went dark. Pitch black.
Shouts from the black-robed men. Click-clack of guns cocking.
Then, in the darkness, Ogoun's vèvè completed.
Metal mastery detonates intricate machinery—like that pistol.
"Ogoun."
Ogoun's vèvè flared brilliantly in response. The men's yells grew louder. Tourists' screams swelled in tandem. Chaos born of darkness ruled the museum.
I closed my eyes. In total black, it was as good as shut anyway—opening them changed nothing.
"Bade."
Instead, I called Bade. A faint breeze slipped through the broken windows, gently wrapping around everyone in the museum.
I felt the wind's flow, sensing movements through it. Bade's wind was my skin, my touch.
In the wind, I sensed a huddled, trembling tourist rising. A black-robe aimed at him.
Bang!
"Aaaahhh! Aa, aaaah...!"
Silence fell with the gunshot. Then a horrific scream echoed. Not the tourist's—the shooter's.
"Too precise a hunk of metal renders war meaningless." Ogoun, at my request, had detonated the pistol.
"Go, Damballa."
I told the snake on the floor. Damballa slithered off swiftly into somewhere.
I navigated the abyss using wind to feel the terrain. By the time I reached the first floor, nosebleed from overusing powers. Bleeding dulled my thoughts further.
But no Intoxication Spell. Decisions under its influence weren't mine— they were the spell's. Now, I act on my own will.
Rain pattered in the dark, lightning flashed. Sporadic glimmers illuminated the museum's people.
(To be continued)