The Two Sacred Relics from Bae Jeong-hwan
The sacred relics I'd received from Bae Jeong-hwan numbered two. One was Baal's Maw. When infused with divine power, its entrance would open, allowing all sorts of items to be stored inside through that maw. Baal, the demon of gluttony whose insatiable appetite devoured anything that touched its mouth. True to its infamous reputation, Baal's Maw offered storage space that was nearly infinite. I'd heard the internal volume reached 100 cubic kilometers.
"This'll be handy for moving. Bet it could even fit a fridge."
"Yeah? Then it could fit an elephant too."
"Huh? Why would you put an elephant in there?"
We exchanged this silly banter and just laughed. Maybe because the relics had put us in high spirits, even trivial things were cracking us up.
"You could even carry people around in this thing."
My uncle murmured while staring at Baal's Maw. I nodded. Its potential uses were as endless as its capacity. As long as something wasn't too oversized, you could stash anything inside—items, people, magic beasts. Anything.
Of course, it wasn't without flaws. Every time you put something in or took it out, your arm ended up slathered in some unidentified, saliva-like fluid. Being a sacred relic modeled after Baal's actual maw, it even replicated the drool. The excessive detail was downright gross.
And worst of all, the design was hideous. It looked like enormous human lips—black and murky, covered in hundreds of wrinkles. When infused with divine power, those lips would gape open with a grotesque creeeak, a sight so horrifying you had to avert your eyes.
Still, these were flaws you could overlook for the performance.
"Next up, here. This one."
Just as I was starting to tire of fiddling with Baal's Maw, my uncle pulled out the next relic. A small trumpet, about the size of a palm. It resembled a conch shell. Was this what they called a conch horn? Anyway.
Its name was the Fourth Angel's Trumpet. Infuse it with divine power, and it would sound. Anyone who heard the blast would temporarily lose their vision, plunged into darkness for roughly five to ten minutes.
"Looks intriguing. Give it a try."
"For real? You sure that's okay?"
"Huh? Okay for wha—"
Bwooooo.
Before my uncle could finish, I channeled a trace amount of divine power into the trumpet. A faint sound, barely audible unless you concentrated, echoed through the worship hall.
"Wha—what?"
My uncle whipped his head around in confusion. His eyes were open, but unfocused. He'd clearly lost his sight from the trumpet's blast.
"S-Seon-woo, I can't see."
"Yeah. It's fine. That's normal."
"Normal? What do you mean normal? I can't see!"
"It'll come back soon. Just wait about five minutes."
"Right? It's not permanent blindness? It'll really come back?"
Only then did my uncle let out a sigh of relief.
The Fourth Angel's Trumpet had broad applications too. For instance, during spellcasting. Up until now, I'd needed fainting spells to eliminate witnesses, but with this, no more. Just blind them and cast your spell in the gap.
That's why I'd passed on pricier relics like the Ark's Petrified Wood or Nephilim's Femur and chosen the trumpet instead.
Well now, you've got it all planned out, don't you?
"Of course."
I flashed a light smile, as if it were obvious.
But the most important part was something else. The two relics from Bae Jeong-hwan—Baal's Maw and the Fourth Angel's Trumpet—shared a key trait. They were expensive. Insanely so. The kind of price that stuck in your throat. Sell them, and you could buy a house on Seoul's outskirts, no problem.
And they were all mine. The thought filled me with a sense of security and abundance. Was this the taste of money? I could see why my uncle was so obsessed with it.
Having no money didn't necessarily mean misery. Nor did having it guarantee happiness. But with money, at least you wouldn't be miserable because of lacking it.
"Oh, Uncle. Didn't you say something about the altar before?"
As I mulled over money, it suddenly hit me. My uncle, who'd embezzled Voodoo funds for a stock investment that tanked spectacularly, had marched out of the worship hall with purpose to recoup the loss. What had he said then?
"'I'll go find the altar, so pick up if I call'... Something like that?"
"Yeah, that's right. Actually, I was gonna bring that up today too."
"Huh? What about it? The altar?"
"Wait. He'll be here soon."
My uncle groped the floor with his fingertips as he spoke. He? Who?
Before I could question it, footsteps echoed from the stairs. Then, with a creak, the door swung open.
"Greetings, Cult Leader."
With stiff formality, she strode right toward us.
"Huh?"
A face I'd never seen. My body tensed rigidly. I was in my school uniform, no mask. Yet she'd clocked me as the cult leader instantly. Plus, the worship hall was accessible only to my uncle and me. We triple-locked it outside regular services.
She'd waltzed in without a hitch. Reason enough to be on guard. I immediately surged voodoo magic, ready to draw a spell circle.
"Oh. That's the one I said was coming earlier."
"......Tell me sooner. You scared me."
I halted the spell just before activation, thanks to my uncle's words. Close call.
"I was gonna explain when she got here. Anyway, this is my informant."
"I'm Kang Ji-a. I've been learning a lot from my master."
"Master? Don't embarrass me."
My uncle said that, but his lips were twitching upward—he was pleased. I glanced at Kang Ji-a. She was tiny. Barely scraping 140 cm. Her face looked childish too. From her looks alone, I'd peg her as upper elementary—12 or 13 maybe? Her speech was mature, but her voice screamed kid.
And she was my uncle's informant? Hard to buy. An elementary school kid spy?
As I tilted my head in bewilderment, my uncle spoke up.
"Anyway, about three weeks ago, I gave her the task of finding the altar's location. And she actually did it."
"What? For real? This kid—this person?"
I shot a surprised glance at Kang Ji-a. She kept her head down, lips sealed. Her face was utterly expressionless.
"She's smart. Got a knack for intel gathering. Teach her once, and she figures out ten on her own."
"You're too kind."
"Kind? Nah, she's a genius. A genius."
Lee Jin-seong blinked slowly as he spoke. His vision was returning.
Either way, my uncle was right—Kang Ji-a was a genius. He was no slouch in intel himself, sophisticated enough to fool the Papal Office with fake identities. Even he couldn't find the altar. Yet she'd done it in just three weeks. Talent beyond "genius."
One issue nagged, though.
"But isn't she too young?"
Kang Ji-a was a genius. Her help would make things smoother. Her skills were vital for the Voodoo Cult. But hiring an elementary kid? Still...
"Uncle, you didn't, like, brainwash her from childhood or anything, right?"
"What? Nah, she followed me around begging. Wanted to be a useful informant for the cult. And she's not as young as she looks."
"How old?"
Kang Ji-a, who'd been listening silently with her head bowed, snapped her head up.
"Eighteen."
"Ah, oh? Wait, what?"
"One year older than you, Cult Leader."
"Oh. Uh...... You're my sunbae, then."
A faint flicker of anger crossed her blank face. She'd looked like a total kid, so I'd assumed younger. Turns out she was my senior by a year. Sweat beaded on my forehead from the fluster.
"Ah! You look so youthful. I just assumed.... My mistake."
"......"
Too late for excuses. Now it was clear, unmistakable anger and humiliation on her face. She hated being called "youthful."
A slip-up.
"Anyway, bonding later. Let's finish the altar talk."
My uncle broke the awkward air. His vision freshly restored, he rubbed his eyes as he continued.
"Kang Ji-a found the altar. We'll go retrieve it soon. With you."
"Why me? Just grab it yourself."
"Kid, there's reasons."
My uncle glanced at Kang Ji-a, signaling. She stepped forward.
"The altar's current location is Lazaro Central Mall B5. It's a fake cult's headquarters. They call themselves the 'Voodoo Second Coming Church.' The public knows them as the 'Voodoo Cult.'"
"Pfft."
I couldn't help a disbelieving chuckle.
"Yes. They're illegally using the Voodoo name. And their antics are outrageous. For convenience, I'll refer to them as the Knockoff Voodoo Cult."
Knockoff Voodoo Cult. Nice naming sense.
Kang Ji-a took a steadying breath and continued.
"First, their leader draws followers with flashy fire performances. Especially popular is the 'living sacrifice ritual,' burning people alive and offering their ashes. There are rumors they kidnap passersby and force them to convert."
"Fire? Could you elaborate?"
"From my investigation, he wields it freely, like he controls it. Speculation, but... could it be Loa Powers?"
She asked cautiously. I nodded. As she guessed, the Knockoff Voodoo leader likely wielded Loa Powers. I had a hunch who.
That guy's the one, then.
Legba's chilling voice resonated in my head. His tone angrier than usual.
That guy was obvious. The one who'd refused to possess me during the Holy War and fled. No—betrayed me. Better call him that bastard now.
"There are also reports of the Knockoff leader using voodoo spells. That's why we need you along, Cult Leader."
Kang Ji-a added. If he wielded Loa Powers and spells, my uncle alone couldn't retrieve the altar safely. Uncle was sharp and money-savvy, but spells weren't his forte. I was the safer bet.
I nodded in agreement. She continued.
"We'll schedule retrieval around your convenience. When works best?"
"I'm free anytime."
"Understood. Tomorrow, then."
"Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow's their regular service. Weekend too. Perfect opportunity."
Tomorrow was too soon. No prior plans, but I wasn't mentally prepped. Needed time to steel myself.
"Tomorrow's a bit... How about another day?"
"Fine. See you in two months."
"Two months?"
"Yes. They don't hold services often. It's tomorrow or two months from now."
Choices: tomorrow or two months. Too soon or too late. Both extremes.
I pondered briefly.
"Then tomorrow it is."
Not long. Better too soon than too late. That's what I figured.
"Yes. I'll return here tomorrow at 6 p.m."
"Got it."
With that, Kang Ji-a briskly climbed the stairs and left the underground worship hall. Even her walk screamed elementary kid. Hard to believe she was older than me.
Once she was gone, my uncle spoke up as if remembering something.
"Tomorrow's the weekend, right? No plans?"
"Plans? Nah."
"No friends?"
"I have friends."
"If you had 'em, you'd have plans. You got none."
"What? Do I need plans every weekend? My friends are busy studying; we don't meet much."
"Pfft, yeah, no friends."
He teased. I knew it was a joke, but it irked me anyway. Truth was, I didn't have many friends. Gu Jun-hyeok and Jeong In-ah were about it. Kim Jin-seo was... iffy as a "friend."
Ding!
A cheerful alert pinged through the quiet hall. A text notification. Rare enough to make my heart skip. Probably spam, but I checked anyway, hopeful.
It was from Jeong In-ah. Grateful it wasn't spam, but my mood sank.
"Uncle, I just got plans."
"When? Tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Better skip, right?"
Tomorrow was for raiding a fake cult's lair to reclaim the altar. Prioritizing that over hanging with Jeong In-ah made sense. Decline her invite.
Yet my heart tugged toward her. I wanted to goof off with friends, laugh without a care, clear my head. Come to think of it, since enrolling at Florence, I hadn't properly hung out once.
Reason and emotion warred in my mind.
"Why? Go have fun. Come here by 6."
"Oh. Yeah, that works."
My uncle's wise words ended the war peacefully.
(To be continued in the next chapter)