Time Flows, and the Weekend Draws to a Close
Time had slipped by, and the weekend was already nearing its end. On Sunday evening, I sat in place, ceaselessly drawing spell circles on the ring.
[Burning with passion is fine, but don't set your own body ablaze too.]
Legba finally spoke up in a worried tone, but I didn't respond and just kept silently drawing the spell circles.
Over the past two days, I hadn't stepped outside even once. I'd barely slept and hadn't eaten properly. Every moment was dedicated to drawing one more spell circle, researching how to engrave spells into the ring. Of course, it wasn't just that—I was also steadily working toward the "realm of internalization" Legba had mentioned before. But there were still no results.
Whether engraving spells into the ring or reaching the realm of internalization, it was all failure after failure. At first, I was disheartened, but now I'd grown so accustomed to failing that it barely fazed me. It felt like I was approaching enlightenment instead of internalization.
Knock knock.
A knock came from outside the door. Without waiting for a reply, it swung open.
"Cult Leader, it's time for dinner."
"I'll skip—"
"Cult Leader."
I had no appetite anyway, and even the time to eat felt precious, so I started to refuse. But Kang Ji-a cut me off with an icy stare. It was the first time she'd interrupted me like that, so I swallowed nervously, tensing up.
She stared silently for a moment before speaking again.
"You need to eat."
"...Shall I?"
With her putting it that way, I had no choice. I gave an awkward smile and stood, heading outside.
On the table where Uncle left my morning coffee and books every day, a proper meal was laid out.
"You made all this by yourself?"
"Yes."
Kang Ji-a answered matter-of-factly, without a hint of pride or boasting. It seemed like no big deal to her.
I sat and started eating. The soup, side dishes, rice—everything was incredibly delicious, without a single flaw. It was the kind of taste that forcibly dragged my wandering appetite back by the hair.
"You could've been a chef, Sis."
"It's not that great."
Kang Ji-a, sitting across from me, picked at her rice as she replied. Her small frame matched her small appetite.
Her food was too good to leave any behind, and I polished it all off in no time. As soon as I finished, she started clearing the table, so I quickly stood to help.
She pursed her lips, looking somewhat uncomfortable.
"Ah, I'll handle it. You should just rest, Cult Leader."
"Let's do it together. It's not hard."
"Pardon?"
While she tilted her head in confusion, I cleared all the plates to the sink and started washing.
I was good at housework. Cooking, dishes, laundry—you name it. Not that I enjoyed it; I just had to be. I'd been living alone for the past seven years.
"Uh, um... Could you just go rest inside?"
As I washed, Kang Ji-a fidgeted behind me, asking awkwardly. She seemed unaccustomed to accepting help.
But I felt the same. Her taking over all the chores in my place felt just as uncomfortable and unfamiliar to me. If anything, it was like she was stealing my jobs.
"..."
I ignored her plea and finished up silently. Only then did she resign herself and quietly help beside me.
The clatter of plates, running water, and scrubbing sounds echoed softly in the silence.
"Why do you help us, Sis?"
It was sudden, but not a thoughtless question. I'd wondered about it for a while.
With her skills, she could easily disguise her identity, attend school, or live a normal life. So why help us?
Kang Ji-a answered without a moment's hesitation.
"I received a favor long ago. From you, Cult Leader."
"Ah, from my father?"
"No. From you, Cult Leader."
"Me?"
It was news to me. I had no memory of doing her any significant favor. Hell, I didn't even remember meeting her as a kid.
I racked my brain, going back as far as I could. Nothing about Kang Ji-a.
"Sorry, I really don't remember."
I apologized with an embarrassed smile. Her face remained expressionless as always. No emotions showed, and I couldn't guess her feelings.
As she rinsed the last plate's suds, she spoke.
"It's fine. It's normal that you don't remember."
"Normal not to remember? ...What on earth did I do?"
Bam!
While I pondered her cryptic words, someone kicked the door open. Naturally, it was Uncle Lee Jin-seong, arms loaded with bags.
I wondered what he'd bought so much of—he never splurged on anything but essentials.
"I'm back. You two doing okay?"
Uncle greeted us casually and set down the heavy baskets with a thud.
"Welcome back, Master."
"Yeah, yeah. Eating and doing dishes, huh?"
He eyed us lined up at the sink in rubber gloves. His face was flushed, voice higher-pitched than usual. He seemed in an unusually good mood, though I had no idea why.
Kang Ji-a nodded slightly.
"Yes. I prepared the meal for the Cult Leader."
"What? You can cook too? Makes sense—living alone hones those skills."
Uncle's eyes widened in surprise. I panicked and shook my head.
"No, Sis made the food. Why are you lying all of a sudden?"
"Huh? Then what? Sis cooked, and you did dishes?"
"No. The Cult Leader prepared the meal and did the dishes. I did nothing."
Uncle looked back and forth between us in confusion. She kept lying stone-faced. I couldn't fathom what her game was.
"Sis really made it."
"Whatever, I don't care who cooked. Wasn't me eating it. Anyway, here."
Uncle brushed it off and handed me a shopping bag stuffed with odds and ends. They looked like junk at a glance, but I knew their value as offerings.
"Offerings?"
"Yeah. Splurged a bit with the assets confiscated from Han Su-yeop, that bastard."
I rummaged through the bag. No top-grade items, but mostly mid-to-high-grade stuff—plenty good.
So that's where he'd been the past two days, scrounging these up without even coming home.
"Grabbed what I could in a short time, so quality's not the best."
"No, this is plenty."
"Good, then. Hey, Ji-a. Bring Han Su-yeop over. Time for coffee."
Uncle sat at the table, opened a book, and directed her. She bowed and hurried off toward the chapel somewhere.
I took the offerings to the storeroom. The altar was right where it always was.
"Bosu."
Just before placing them, I called Bosu. No response.
"Bosu. Come out."
I called again.
[Bo, Bosu. Responds to the prophet's call.]
Finally, he answered. I held up the "Basan Bison Hoof." Top-grade was "Basan Bull Horn," but the hoof was still immensely valuable.
I could hear Bosu gulping and smacking his lips in my head.
[Hrm! If offered that, Bosu would be most happy.]
"Bosu."
I lowered my voice. His power was versatile, one I used often, so discipline was key. If he went on strike when I needed him most, it'd be a disaster.
"No more strikes from now on."
[No strikes...? But if prophet doesn't offer, Bosu must strike!]
"This Basan Bison Hoof would keep you going strong for a month, right?"
[A month! Not sure about a month, but at least a fortnight!]
"Then average it: three weeks. No strikes for the next three weeks, absolutely."
Bosu groaned in thought.
[Three weeks too long!]
"Should I just toss it, then?"
I slammed the hoof down and pretended to stomp it. Bosu freaked out.
[No! Fine, three weeks. Bosu no strike for three weeks!]
"Good."
With his firm agreement, I picked up the hoof and placed it on the altar. It turned to ash and vanished—offering accepted.
But Bosu didn't sound pleased. He whined like he'd lost.
"What's wrong? I gave you an offering."
[Not happy at all. Evil prophet! Worse than Yi Se-hwa!]
"High praise. Thanks."
Yi Se-hwa—my mother's name. As former prophet, she'd been called an "evil prophet" by the Loa often. To me, who admired her perfect control over them, Bosu's words were the ultimate compliment.
He grumbled on, but I ignored him. I offered the rest of Uncle's gifts to the Loa and left the storeroom.
"Ah, Cult Leader."
Kang Ji-a was right there as I opened the door, arms full of blankets and pillows. Getting ready for bed, apparently.
For some reason, she always slept in the storeroom.
"Why do you always sleep in the storeroom, Sis?"
"I've been used to it since I was little."
She said it like it was obvious. Whatever her childhood was like, if she preferred it, I wouldn't interfere. Some people like floors over beds; maybe storerooms over bedrooms. World's full of all kinds.
I shrugged it off and went to my room. It was thick with incense smoke—traces of my ring experiments.
[How long do you plan to keep this up? Success looks impossible.]
Legba scolded as I sat on the bed to draw more circles. I checked my phone: 9:03 p.m. Too early for bed.
"Till 1 a.m."
[1 a.m.... Fine. Just till then.]
"Yep~ Straight to bed at 1."
I kept at it: drawing circles, trying to infuse the leaking voodoo mist into the ring's gem. Occasionally casting on myself to pursue internalization.
1 a.m. passed, but I didn't stop. The fruitless effort dragged on till 3 a.m.
[I said 1 a.m. You ignoring all my advice?]
"One last time. Real last. For real."
[That's the 17th 'last.']
"...You counted every one?"
[You kept dragging with 'last' so much, I had nothing better to do.]
"Okay, then this is the last 'last.' Real final one."
That night, I pulled an all-nighter—almost, anyway.
*
It was "almost" an all-nighter. I managed two hours: tossing for 30 minutes, sleeping the rest. My head spun and ears rang from sleep deprivation, but it wasn't the sinking-mud heaviness of before.
The tumultuous March was over; April loomed. The breeze was warm enough to call spring, and the dew-kissed grass greener than ever.
Maybe because my reduced-sleep efforts last night bore tiny fruit. The passing scenery looked especially beautiful. Mood lifted too.
[Seriously, so little sleep and you're this chipper? Second freak I've seen like you.]
"Who's first?"
[Your father, obviously.]
I bantered idly with Legba in the empty alley.
Florence came into view, along with students trudging in, heads down.
Among them, I spotted Kim Jin-seo walking especially listlessly. She saw me too. Our eyes met.
But she didn't greet or acknowledge—just whipped her head away.
Her expression was colder, more curt than usual. I'd sensed it since last Friday: she seemed mad at me.
I approached first.
"You went home early last week—"
Thud thud!
Before I finished, she bolted like fleeing. I barely glimpsed her face—pure panic.
I'd planned a casual check-in about her early dismissal. Ruined in seconds.
...Kim Jin-seo was deliberately avoiding me.
No clue why.
...What did I do wrong?
I racked my brain—no mistakes came to mind.
By then, she'd vanished into the distance.
[Your haggard face scared her off. Should've slept when I said.]
"..."
I ignored Legba's nonsense. I mulled her avoidance a while longer, then gave up—no answers coming. Headed to class.
"Do Seon-woo, your nose...! Huh? You're fine...? Why're you fine?"
Jeong In-ah greeted me the moment I entered. I fiddled with my nose and smiled.
"Hospital treated it well. Wasn't that bad anyway."
"For real? Good. Looked shattered from all the blood..."
"Thought so too, but nope."
I lied smoothly. Truth was, my nose was shattered, as she said. But I'd fixed it perfectly with near-miraculous restoration voodoo.
"Oh, hey! You see the poster at the main building? Yeo Min-seo—"
Jeong In-ah explained excitedly. Disciplinary committee for Yeo Min-seo's outburst: 15 days' campus service.
A bit surprising, but her punishment wasn't my business. No big reaction.
While we talked, Gu Jun-hyeok sat staring blankly at me.
He was usually late—oddly early today.
"You're early today."
"...Huh? Oh. Yeah. Early today."
His reply was hesitant. Whole vibe different—face plainly flustered.
...Bit of a stretch, maybe, but like Kim Jin-seo's panic.
Why were they acting up today? No idea.
*
Kim Jin-seo, fleeing Do Seon-woo, ducked into her usual secluded smoking alley.
She slid down against the wall, hugging her knees.
"Ugh."
Regret laced her groan. When he spoke, instinct screamed run.
How weird must she have looked to him? She recalled her panicked, sloppy escape—face burning with shame.
Embarrassing. Mortifying.
'What's with the ring...'
Mid-regret, she looked up. She'd glimpsed it, but a new ring adorned Do Seon-woo's left pinky today.
Left ring finger rings meant couples. That's all she knew.
Other fingers? No clue. Ignorance bred anxiety.
Pat, pat.
She stood abruptly, brushing off dust, and headed straight to Charity Class.
If she didn't know, ask. Gu Jun-hyeok was right. Silence only deepened misunderstandings—nothing improved.
That night his house burned; he was at Jeong In-ah's for a reason. She'd missed tons of school—maybe delivering notes.
...Delivering notes at midnight? Already over then?)
"..."
She shook her head to clear it. No dice. Thoughts snowballed.
Soon, Charity Class door.
"Haa."
She sighed deeply. Heard he'd left early Friday with a broken nose—hope treatment went well. Ring was pretty—what'd it mean? Why Jeong In-ah's house?
Pretend concern, ask casually. No trembling, no panic—just natural.
No reason not to be. Him at her place? Irrelevant to her. Pure curiosity coming here. Not like she cared about him or her classmate.
Creak.
She peeked cautiously inside. Gu Jun-hyeok first, Jeong In-ah beside him, and ahead—
Do Seon-woo chatting with Jeong In-ah, beaming brightly.
Bang!
Kim Jin-seo unwittingly kicked the back door and stormed to her own class. Door might've splintered— not her problem.
(To be continued)