Ma Yu-hyeon Returns to the Dorm
Ma Yu-hyeon returned to the dorm. He'd originally planned to call some girls over and have fun tonight like usual, but he knew they wouldn't come even if he did—and truth be told, he didn't feel like it anyway. His mind was on what had happened at the museum.
The black-clad intruders who burst in, the sudden downpour and lightning, Han Dae-ho and the black magic, the Purification Blessing. The Crossroads.
He had an excellent memory. He could recall anything he'd seen once as vividly as a photograph. That talent was why he'd aced exams so effortlessly and why he could stuff his head with info that ordinary people didn't know.
Yet for some reason, the scenery from the Crossroads wouldn't come into focus. It felt hazy, like something from a dream rather than reality.
"Ma Yu-hyeon."
Lost in thought, he barely registered Kang Dae-man calling his name as they entered together. Ma Yu-hyeon shot him a sharp glare with those piercing eyes, irritation prickling from how deep he'd been sunk in his head. He rubbed his dry face with a sigh, then forced his expression to soften belatedly.
"...Yeah, what."
"There's a gym on B1. Wanna go work out?"
"You wanna exercise right now?"
"Of course."
Kang Dae-man nodded firmly, his voice full of resolve, though his eyes betrayed a tremor. Ma Yu-hyeon read the mood in them instantly. Kang Dae-man hadn't shaken off the museum shock yet. Exercise was just his escape from the trauma and fear.
"...I'm gonna rest. Go by yourself."
"You've been slacking on workouts lately, Ma Yu-hyeon. Your gains are gonna waste away."
"I'll handle it. But shouldn't you ease up? Dude's getting huge."
Ma Yu-hyeon brushed it off with a teasing jab. Kang Dae-man rummaged through his luggage for straps and a belt, then headed out. Long after he left, Ma Yu-hyeon slipped into his room, locked the door, and flopped onto the bed.
He was exhausted. Had he ever felt this bone-deep fatigue lately? Not even after pulling all-nighters partying for two days straight.
"......"
What happened at the museum could've been handled by Romanica's forces alone. The black magic user was unexpected, but Seong Ha-yeon could've nullified it with her Purification Blessing. Considering Han Dae-ho and Kim Jin-seo's combat prowess, taking down that many foes would've been a breeze.
The bomb vests were a wildcard. But if he'd drawn the Spear, or better yet called its owner, they could've muscled through. Some sacrifices inevitable, sure—drawing the Spear took time.
But Voodoo's arrival—Do Seon-woo's power, really—cleaned it all up. Zero casualties.
What if he hadn't worried about his identity getting exposed and gone all out? What if he'd used his power for offense instead of defense?
"An uncontrollable threat."
Ma Yu-hyeon muttered words his grandfather had once said. Use threats you can control. They might be uncontrollable for others. People fear the uncontrollable. But the world has threats even you can't control. When you meet one, choose: submit or eliminate.
But you must never submit. So eliminate it. Or gain the power to control it.
Voodoo was an uncontrollable threat. Time to choose: submit, eliminate, or seize control.
Submitting was out. Could he gain control? Crush all the 'candidates,' claim their power, ascend as pope... even then, no guarantee he'd fully control Voodoo.
Until now, he'd underestimated them. Their spells and Loa powers were strong, sure, but Romanica had won the Holy War, right?
The Crossroads changed that. Romanica's victory was luck. The cult leader and prophet's clashing wills caused infighting, producing 'defectors' and 'exiles.' They'd exploited Seong Yu-da perfectly. All those stars aligned by sheer fortune.
Raw power matchup under the same conditions? No assured win.
One path left: straightforward force.
Then the locked door creaked open. Clink. The broken handle hit the floor.
Ma Yu-hyeon bolted upright. But before he could fully rise, his body was bound tight. Cold, slimy scales slithered disgustingly over his skin. A forked tongue licked his ear with sticky wetness.
[Little one.]
It was a snake. The massive serpent that had devoured the black-clad man stalking Do Seon-woo, viewed from beyond the divine power circle in the dark. Smaller than at the museum, but still massively threatening.
Ma Yu-hyeon wanted to scream, but no sound came. The tail coiled around his throat. He clawed at the scales with his nails—hard as stone. His nails tore, blood welled.
[Don't get arrogant just because you see more than others.]
"...Guh, hek...!"
[Think we don't know what you see, what you think?]
The tail squeezed harder. His neck bones creaked on the verge of snapping. The voice burrowed into his ear—ecstatically sweet, alluring. Just hearing it made him want to laugh. His flushed red face drained pale. Death loomed.
Yet his pallid lips curved in a smile. He knew he should resist, but the urge melted away. A desire crept in to embrace ecstatic death while listening to that voice.
[We say nothing to the prophet because it's best for both sides.]
[You're in our palm. From the moment you entered the Crossroads.]
Shhh. The snake released his throat and vanished from the room.
"...Ugh, ha...! *Cough*, urk...!"
Air rushed in. Blood finally flowed to his deprived brain. Vision blackened, then flashed white. Stars danced briefly.
Ma Yu-hyeon heaved ragged breaths on the bed, coughing dryly for a while. His mind struggled to clear.
"*Cough*... Hoo."
Only after minutes of hacking did he steady his breathing. Uncontrollable threat. Submit, eliminate, or control.
Couldn't submit, couldn't control—so eliminate. But some threats couldn't even be eliminated.
"What a fucking bitch."
Now he got it. Why his grandfather had been so desperate to eradicate Voodoo. Why he'd seized on a pretext to start the Holy War.
Time to meet the other 'candidates.' Like it or not.
*
The next day, we gathered in the B1 auditorium. Han Dae-ho had summoned us there. He started briefing us on yesterday's events. Shocking as it was, he didn't think we should hide it—and we couldn't anyway, he added.
"The attackers at the museum are believed to be members of an Islamic extremist group. Identities still being confirmed, and..."
Han Dae-ho bowed his head.
"...Of the 47 who assaulted us, 46 are dead. We captured only one."
His explanation filled in details even I didn't know. The 46 deaths appeared as suicides on the surface, but suspicious elements meant the investigation continued. The lone captive showed extreme mental breakdown symptoms, likely tied to the freak weather, Han Dae-ho said.
I realized their deaths linked to Legba.
[I merely offered a choice. Their decision was theirs.]
Legba's voice echoed in my head.
"...So today's schedule is canceled. Papal orders to return. All clergy here, including other priests."
Afterward, Han Dae-ho told us to pack and regather in the auditorium. We'd head to the airport safely with the missionary priests and fly home.
I packed. Reaching under the bed for the staff I'd hidden upon returning last night, my hand grasped nothing. My heart sank—then Damballa's voice.
[It's here, little one.]
The staff materialized in my grip. Softer than when I'd first held it, faintly rough like snake scales. I sensed the Retrograde Staff had merged with Damballa.
Pulling it out, faint scale patterns etched the wood, as expected. Staring, they deepened into real scales. Finally, the staff transformed into Damballa himself, the serpent.
[Feels like reclaiming my lost home. Much more comfortable.]
Damballa slithered up my arm as he spoke. This was possible because the Poteau Mitan was both Legba's ritual staff for inviting people to the Crossroads and the symbol of Loa Damballa and Ayida-Weddo. More than a symbol—it was their union.
[Ahh... I'm tired. I want rest, little one.]
"Sure, go ahead."
I nodded, and he reverted to staff form. I stowed it in my suitcase, packed the rest, and left the dorm.
With the staff, I could perform Reverse Voodoo. It was the only way to heal Jeong In-ah's sister, Jeong Yun-ah. It also freed up other spells and Loa powers. I could make it move as a snake or wield it as a staff—versatile.
Gaining it made this mission hugely rewarding. Yet something felt off, ominous. Han Dae-ho's briefing hadn't mentioned Voodoo at all.
"...You all did great. I've arranged a school break until Monday."
I watched Han Dae-ho closely as he loaded the kids into cars. His tone and face showed subtle fear and wariness. He suspected everyone—me, Ma Yu-hyeon, Han Su-ryeon, the other students, even the accompanying priests. Traitors from Satanists or Voodoo among us, like Kim Jin-seo had suspected last night.
We reached the airport and boarded. No one spoke until takeoff. Everyone brooded or caught up on sleep from travel fatigue.
(To be continued in the next chapter)