The Taoist Association (Part 1)
A week had passed since my identity was revealed to the world. During that week, the world stayed strangely quiet, as if every major yokai outbreak up until now had been nothing more than coincidence. Yokai still appeared from time to time, but they were all small fry below rank five. Since the Yokai Hunter Office staff could handle anything below rank five on their own, it didn’t cause any real trouble.
With an entire week of peace, the public burst into celebration. Most people didn’t really understand what a Spiritual Beast was, but ever since I showed up the yokai had vanished without a trace. So they decided it was all thanks to me—the fox spirit Miho—and began praising my name.
…Okay, “praising my name” sounds a little too dramatic. It’s more accurate to say I’d simply become familiar and endearing to humans. Beautiful looks, fluffy tails, and a voluptuous figure—I had everything it took to set internet communities ablaze. Fanfics and fan art related to me were bound to explode.
That’s right. Without even realizing it, I had become a meme. My memes had spread so far that someone had even created a dedicated wiki page collecting nothing but “Miho-related memes.”
Some might ask if it wasn’t shameless to rip me off so blatantly, but since I had no copyright to speak of, what could anyone do about it?
Watching me become the talk of the town, seventh-grade civil servant Kim Myung-ho thought to himself: I liked her first. I knew about her first. I was her fan first! It felt like the song you alone treasured suddenly climbing the charts and playing in every café. He couldn’t decide if the feeling was good or bad.
Of course, as a hardcore Miho fanatic, he had already claimed the top moderator spots in both the Miho Gallery and Miho Channel. No matter what, I can’t yield those positions.
Today, while managing the Miho Gallery and Miho Channel and handling yokai detection duties, Kim Myung-ho received a visitor.
“Myung-ho.”
“Yes, Lady Miho!”
“I’m going to use your computer for a bit.”
“Of course!”
Kim Myung-ho gave up his seat without thinking, only to realize his terrible mistake moments later. Miho had discovered the Miho Gallery and Miho Channel. And he was still logged in.
“…What is all this? Miho fanfics? Miho fan art? Miho memes…?”
“Th-that, um, well, you see…”
“You’re the head mod, Myung-ho?”
“…I’m so sorryyyyy!”
If Miho had been an ordinary fox yokai who didn’t understand internet memes, he might have been able to lie his way out. Unfortunately, she was a suspiciously internet-savvy yokai. Once she learned that he ran both the Miho Channel and Miho Gallery, he was convinced she would start hating him.
However, Miho turned out to be far cooler than he expected.
“Just manage it properly so no lewd pictures get posted.”
“…Huh? Oh, uh, y-yes ma’am!”
In truth, whether people wrote fanfics, drew fan art, or even made dirty pictures, none of it mattered to Miho. She wasn’t a social creature. Humans feel shame because they are social animals. Yokai like her are not. From the perspective of a yokai detached from society, there was no reason to feel embarrassed even if her pictures were floating around the internet.
Regardless, Miho sat down at Kim Myung-ho’s PC and typed something into the search bar.
How to get to the Taoist Association
“…It’s suspiciously quiet, isn’t it?”
“It really is.”
“Do you have any guesses?”
“None at all.”
“Sigh… The silence only makes me more anxious.”
In Director Lee Han-ul’s office, I sipped my warm coffee while chatting with him. The topic was the recent trends in yokai appearances. A week had passed since the Seoul incident, yet not a single goblin had shown up—not even one yokai above rank four.
It made the grand decision to reveal my identity to the public feel utterly pointless. Of course, peace was a good thing. If the yokai who had received the fake qualification for ascension and the goblins stayed hidden like this, nothing would be better. But there was no way that would happen.
This brief peace felt exactly like the calm before a storm. Director Lee Han-ul seemed to share my thoughts.
“Do you think this is the intention of those goblin creatures?”
“Probably. I’d say so.”
Waking the yokai who received the qualification for ascension would be their intention, and not waking them would also be their intention.
“…It really feels like we’re just playing in the palm of their hands.”
“We are playing in the palm of their hands. We don’t hold the initiative.”
I didn’t know what kind of tricks they were using, but apparently goblins were beings that couldn’t be tracked unless they revealed themselves first. When I asked Sangun how they had tracked and captured goblins in the past, he answered:
It was possible to track them in the past.
When I asked why, he said he couldn’t tell me because of that damned “reverse heaven conduct” or whatever it was. It would be nice if there were a “See more…” button. Why had it been possible in the past but impossible in the modern era?
Had the goblins also grown and evolved like humans? …It wasn’t entirely impossible, but it felt like a completely groundless theory. There were two real possibilities.
First, in the past the “King of Goblins” had revealed himself on the surface, making tracking possible. Second, in the past the “Prince’s Divine Scripture” had existed, making tracking possible.
In the end, everything circled back to the Prince’s Divine Scripture. It was the clue to all of this and the root of every evil.
“Are you planning to make a move soon?”
“Yes.”
“You’re heading to the Taoist Association, then.”
“That’s right. I can’t put it off any longer.”
For the past week I had stayed at the Yokai Hunter Office just in case yokai suddenly appeared. I couldn’t be certain, but judging from the current trends, it didn’t seem like we needed to worry about an immediate yokai or goblin outbreak.
What I needed most right now was information. I had to visit the Taoist Association to learn exactly what kind of beings goblins were. Furthermore, I needed to find out whether they possessed any information regarding the Prince’s Divine Scripture.
…Of course, I wasn’t expecting much. Even if they had data on goblins, it was unlikely they would have anything on the Prince’s Divine Scripture. According to Mangtae Grandfather, that book had been specially created by Dueoksini—the King of Goblins and a god—solely for the benefit of “yokai.” There was no way humans would possess information about it.
With that in mind, I intended to head for the Taoist Association today. I wasn’t going with Lee Ha-neul. If a yokai appeared the moment we were together, as if they had been waiting for it, what would we do?
I had my emergency contact network. Check. Emergency cola. Check. Emergency dog treats. Check. Perfect.
So.
“Director, do you know the way to the Taoist Association? Could you take me there?”
Even searching online hadn’t given me any results.
“I don’t know.”
“…Pardon?”
“I don’t know how to reach the Taoist Association either.”
“If you don’t want to take me, just give me the address and I’ll figure out the train myself.”
“…Lady Miho. The location of the Taoist Association’s main headquarters has not yet been disclosed to the public.”
“Does that make any sense? It’s a group of Taoist masters that’s been around for over five hundred years.”
The director’s explanation followed. True to the headquarters of Taoist practitioners, the main building was hidden by illusion spells. Only the Taoist masters belonging to the association knew the location of those illusions and how to break through them. Therefore, outsiders could never enter the main headquarters no matter what—except for those who had been invited.
“But I was invited by Hojun… well, as a yokai.”
“Please correct that to Spiritual Beast, Lady Miho. From now on, when introducing yourself to others, you must always say you are a Spiritual Beast, not a yokai.”
“…Anyway.”
“Here. Take this.”
The director handed me a single thin sheet of hanji paper.
“What is it?”
“Lord Hojun told me to give it to you. I believe it’s something like an access pass for entering the Taoist Association…”
“…This is an access pass?”
“What does it say? I can’t see anything written on it.”
“…It’s nothing. I’ll be back, Director.”
“Yes. Please take care.”
I turned away from the director, let out a deep sigh, and read the hanji once more.
Location: Gyeonggi Yusa Yukgapshin Dorip Park, Bench 132-B
Time: Between 11:00 PM and 11:05 PM
Incantation: Woof woof, arf arf, bark bark ×3
Bark three times using three different cries. Only then shall the path to the Taoist Association open.
…Hojun, you crazy bastard. He clearly mixed in this humiliating incantation on purpose just to mess with me. As expected, something must have happened that night when we drank.