What's That Ring? Got a Girlfriend?
"What's that ring? You get a girlfriend or something?"
"Nah? It's my dad's ashes in a ring."
"......What the hell. Why make a ring out of your dad's—no, Lord Father's ashes?"
"That's how we do it in Voodoo."
I tilted my head back and gazed up at the sky. It was a night bathed in brilliant moonlight. The breeze felt cool. Come to think of it, winter was right around the corner. I let out a sigh, and white breath puffed from my mouth.
"We preserve death itself as an object."
"So you're saying your dad's soul is trapped in that ring?"
"No. Dad's soul is off wandering the 'unseen world' right now."
"......What the hell are you talking about? I can't wrap my head around Voodoo. Not that I want to."
The guy in front of me stretched lazily. He looked about 17 or 18—19 at most. Roughly my age, anyway. His face felt oddly familiar somehow. I smiled and spoke up.
"Gotta pass it down to my kid someday."
"Kid? You even planning to get married?"
"Marriage...... Who knows."
I glanced down at the ring on my left pinky. The ash gem embedded in the center sparkled under the moonlight. For a moment, it felt like a gaze was peering out from beyond the gem. I stared back at it, and the gaze stared back at me. Our eyes met.
"It'll work out somehow."
Crack.
In that instant, a fracture spiderwebbed across the gem. Darkness leaked from the cracks. The darkness became fissures, the fissures birthed more darkness, and that darkness fractured anew. The world shattered into dozens, hundreds, thousands of pieces. Eventually, it crumbled to dust and vanished. Behind the scattered remnants of the world, an endless abyss welcomed me.
*
"Gah! Urk......!"
I snapped my eyes open. My head throbbed like it was splitting apart. My heart pounded with a dry, ragged rhythm. Nausea churned in my gut. I slammed my forehead against the floor and dry-heaved for what felt like forever. Tears streamed from my eyes against my will, trickling down my cheeks to soak the ground.
"Ha, haa. Hoo......"
What happened? You just collapsed out of nowhere, and now you're dry-heaving upon waking.
"Legba. That was a hallucination? No, not a hallucination spell. What the fuck is this......"
Calm down first and regulate your breathing. It's hyperventilating.
A black orb floated lazily before my eyes. Dizziness washed over me. Following Legba's advice, I steadied my mind and controlled my breaths. The black orb obstructing my vision slowly dissipated, and my sight finally normalized.
"Hoo......"
Once I'd regained my senses, I wiped the sweat beading on my forehead. Not just my forehead—my whole body was drenched in cold sweat. But I didn't even have the strength to wipe it off. A thick lethargy permeated every inch of me; I could barely twitch a finger.
"Legba."
I barely managed to call out to him.
Drink some water before you speak. You've sweated buckets. You might dehydrate.
"Later. How long was I out?"
Hard to say. It was so brief—about two seconds.
Two seconds. I couldn't help but let out an incredulous chuckle. But that wasn't the point. The chill in my fingertips from the blowing wind. The radiant moonlight. The breath drifting lazily across the night sky before scattering. Even the crisp, smoky scent unique to autumn. Every sensation I'd felt lingered vividly in my body.
"Not a hallucination type."
The ash gem in the ring had cracked from the aftermath of Father's spell, and mist from that fissure had seeped out, stealing my consciousness. And then I dreamed. A dream as if peeking into someone else's memory—ethereal yet crystal clear.
"'Memory Implantation.'"
Simply put, it was most likely a memory implantation spell, one of the illusion types. I'd glimpsed Father's memories through that spell. Father must have embedded it in the ring. Probably designed to activate once I wore it.
"......Haha."
The fact that I—who shrugged off high-grade spells—succumbed to a mere wisp of mist made sense if it was Father's doing. Father was a master of spells and Voodoo magic, the kind Legba called a "monster of spells." No matter how strong my spell resistance, I couldn't resist Father's. Conversely, no one but Father could pierce my resistance.
Muttering to yourself and laughing. You're no different from a madman. What the hell did you see?
"I think I saw Father's memories."
Do Myeong-jun? You saw that bastard's memories?
My father's name was Do Myeong-jun. I nodded.
"The ring had a memory implantation spell on it."
Memory implantation...... You mean he sealed it into an object. That man was even more twisted than I thought.
Memory implantation was classified as an illusion spell, but it had no rank. Not low, mid, high, or top-grade. Rankless. It was a spell only Father could use, so ranking it was pointless. Hence, rankless. Father had classified the spells in the first place, but that's beside the point.
What mattered right now wasn't that.
"Why."
I was thinking about "that man" beyond Father's memories. The man who seemed like Father's closest friend. Jet-black hair like the void, skin pale as a corpse. Seong Yu-da. Beyond Father's memories, Father's friend was unmistakably Seong Yu-da.
Former heretic inquisitor, cardinal, Seong Ha-yeon's father. A foe too vile for "enemy"—the bastard I called my nemesis for lack of a better word.
"If they were friends, that fucking bastard......"
Then Seong Yu-da was the one who'd personally doused his friend—my father—in oil, set him ablaze, and burned him alive. I'd known he was a mass murderer responsible for slaughtering tens of thousands of Voodooists, but I hadn't realized he was a backstabbing traitor who'd kill his own friend with his own hands. I'd thought he was just a dog, but peeling back the layers revealed a specific breed of utter scum.
"Ha."
I sighed deeply and hauled myself up. The world spun for a moment. Dehydration and psychological strain had triggered the vertigo. I braced my left hand against the wall and barely made it out of the room.
Kang Ji-a startled at the sight of me and took a step back.
"Cult Leader. Are you finished?"
"Not yet. Uh, where's the fridge? Need some water."
"Oh, I'll get it. Let me bring it to you."
Kang Ji-a scurried to the fridge on quick feet and returned with a glass of water. I took it and chugged it down. Only then did I feel alive again. The vertigo plaguing me finally subsided.
"Thanks."
"No problem. ......You've been at it for quite a while. It's already been an hour."
I handed her the empty glass, and she said something out of left field. Her face looked utterly perplexed for some reason. It was the first time I'd seen such a clear expression from Kang Ji-a. Puzzled, I cocked my head.
"It takes time."
"Ah, of course. Some rituals do drag on depending on the person, but aren't you pushing too hard? It might strain your stamina......"
"An hour isn't that long. I'm fine."
Voodoo rituals usually lasted half a day, sometimes up to three. An hour was lightning fast. Kang Ji-a wore a complicated mix of emotions, her expression awkward as she replied.
"Your stamina is impressively good."
It sounded like praise, but also not. An ambiguous tone.
"......Yeah, been working out lately. Anyway, heading back in."
I slipped back into the room, leaving Kang Ji-a staring at me with that awkward look. The room was thick with undissipated mist. The air hung heavy and murky. Even breathing was a chore. Still, I pushed through the fog, crossing to the bed.
It probably wasn't a great idea. Perched on the bed's edge, I peered down at the ring on my finger. The gem was cracked from the spell Father had left behind. He'd sealed the spell into this ring—specifically, the central gem. Made from Grandfather's ashes, apparently. Seemed easier to embed spells in than other objects.
......Then.
Couldn't I seal a spell into this ring too? Like Father did. If I could embed my own spell, I could cast without drawing a spell circle. Maybe even in CCTV-riddled downtowns or Florence Academy. If it worked, it'd be a huge boost for the upcoming Charity Holy Mark reselection exam.
No—if it succeeded, snagging the Charity Holy Mark would be a breeze.
But the odds of success are slim. Compared to your father, you're sorely lacking in skill.
"I know."
But only if it succeeded. As Legba said, I fell far short of Father. Slim chances.
"Still gotta try."
I wasn't about to give up without attempting it. I channeled Voodoo magic.
*
"Ha-yeon."
Seong Yu-da fixed Seong Ha-yeon with a sharp, icy gaze. She stood before him, hands demurely clasped, head bowed low. At a glance, they looked less like father and daughter and more like lord and vassal. The atmosphere was that vertical and rigid.
"Your practical exam scores were quite low."
"......"
"The first exam...... midterms, was it? Anyway, make up for it with theory. Don't get too down."
Seong Yu-da spoke as if bestowing a favor. He probably meant it as comfort, but to Seong Ha-yeon, it rang hollow. More like, "Your practicals were a mess, so absolutely ace the theory—."
Her already heavy shoulders sank further, as if her body might collapse into the floor.
"Understood."
Amid the crushing pressure, Seong Ha-yeon managed a reply. She turned to retreat to her room.
"Ha-yeon. What department are you aiming for?"
But Seong Yu-da's next question halted her. Seong Ha-yeon forced a neutral expression and turned back.
"Priest track."
"Priest. Priest...... Yes, better to go with what suits you."
Seong Yu-da stroked his brow. He didn't seem pleased. Seong Ha-yeon nodded without replying. She tried to force a smile, but her face wouldn't cooperate.
"How's school life?"
Another question from Seong Yu-da. Seong Ha-yeon gave rote, evasive answers. Still, his questions kept coming. How are your friendships? Your teachers? Your studies? Where for the upcoming commission training?...... All cookie-cutter, banal queries.
Seong Ha-yeon responded with equally banal answers. Finally, the barrage ended. She bowed and started for her room again.
"......Ha-yeon. Seems there's a first-year at Florence with the Purifying Blood."
But Seong Yu-da snagged her ankle once more. Seong Ha-yeon froze and swallowed hard. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead. Steadying her trembling heart, she forced out words.
"Is there?"
"Half in Charity Class. Name's Do Seon-woo, they say. Ring any bells?"
"No. Don't know anyone by that name."
Seong Ha-yeon lied. She was the type whose lies showed. But Seong Yu-da didn't notice. He hadn't looked at her once since summoning her to his room. Not a single glance.
"If you don't know him, get friendly now. Befriend Do Seon-woo. It'll make things easier later."
Seong Yu-da said it like it was obvious—like she had to. For the Purification Clan, bonding with a Purifying Blood bearer was natural, with no room for negotiation or defiance.
After all, the clan had to marry one someday.
"......Yes."
Seong Ha-yeon nodded reluctantly. Her mouth tasted of blood. She'd bitten her lip hard enough to draw it without realizing. No pain registered.
"And your room had too many novels and comics—useless books."
"......"
"Don't get too absorbed in that nonsense. You're at the age to study harder than anyone. Don't waste energy elsewhere."
Seong Yu-da rose abruptly and strode toward her. Seong Ha-yeon flinched preemptively, bowing her head. Fear made her shoulders quiver.
"Remember you're of the Purification Clan."
Seong Yu-da loomed over his trembling daughter. His gaze held not a shred of affection.
"......Yes, I understand."
Seong Ha-yeon's voice teetered on the edge of tears.
(To be continued in the next chapter)