The Cursed Diary and the First Talisman

Did I find a secret manual?

Whoosh!

My vision was dyed pure white.

It was dust. An immense amount of ancient, accumulated dust erupted in all directions. The books that had been piled precariously high lost their balance and came tumbling down in a massive landslide.

"Cough, cough!"

I reflexively shielded my face. Through the hazy cloud of dust, books rolled to my feet, scattering in a chaotic mess.

"...Ah."

For a moment, I felt as if I had been possessed by something. Or was it just my imagination? I wondered if I had been hit by some kind of curse, but I felt perfectly fine.

I opened my palm. I clenched and unclenched my fingers. Everything was normal.

"...What. Just my imagination, I guess."

It seemed to be nothing. Brushing off the dust, I lifted the book in my hand.

A leather cover. Its corners were rounded and worn, as if it had passed through many hands over a long time.

In the very center of the cover, characters were engraved. I wiped the dust away with my sleeve.

This was... an apprentice's log? A diary?

Because my mother had forced Hanja workbooks on me as a kid, telling me I had to study Chinese characters, I could barely manage to decipher it. Well, I had forgotten most of it by now, though.

An apprentice's diary.

There was nothing else on the cover besides those four characters. No author, no publisher, not even a common promotional band. Just characters deeply stamped into the weathered leather.

It seemed to be a diary written by someone while they were learning a trade.

Hmm. A diary, huh.

Knowing it was someone else's diary made me suddenly want to read it even more.

I carefully turned to the first page.

"...?"

It was blank.

I turned to the next page. Also blank.

I turned another.

"..."

Flutter.

Holding the edge of the pages with my thumb, I flipped through to the very end.

From start to finish, there wasn't a single word. Only page after page of yellowed, aged paper. Forget words—there wasn't even a single dot.

What? Did they give up on writing it?

The worn leather corners clearly suggested someone had carried it around constantly. Yet the inside was completely blank.

Or perhaps the book itself had some other use.

Hmm. Maybe I should ask the old owner.

With that idle thought, I was tucking the book under my arm.

Time to pay and get out of here.

But as I turned my head—

"...!"

My heart leaped into my throat.

He was right in front of me.

I didn't know when he had approached, but the scrawny old man, whom I had assumed was dozing off, was standing right before my nose.

Holy crap, you scared me...

I hadn't sensed his presence at all.

But the old man's expression was bizarre.

Behind his reading glasses, his eyes were bulging as if they were about to pop out.

His mouth, still holding the long pipe, was wide open, his jaw seemingly on the verge of dislocating.

He stood frozen in that exact pose, staring at me without a single twitch.

"..."

"..."

What was this? Why was he acting like that?

Ah. It suddenly clicked.

The pile of books that had just collapsed.

I quickly apologized.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I was pulling a book out and... the dust just..."

Even though they were piled up messily to begin with, I had still rummaged through someone else's shop and knocked their things over.

"..."

But the old man merely kept his mouth agape, his gaze darting back and forth between the pile of books and me.

What was he looking at? The books? Or me?

He glanced at the book in my hand, then slowly scanned me from head to toe.

Well, looking at myself, I could see why.

My face was wrapped halfway in black cloth, and I was wearing a loose black T-shirt, crouching in the corner of a Secondhand Bookstore rummaging through a pile of clearance books.

I looked incredibly suspicious. I couldn't even complain if I were suspected of being a thief.

Did he think I came here to swipe a book without paying?

"...Um, I do have money."

"H-How did you...?"

The old man's voice came out cracked and trembling.

Huh?

"...Do you mean this?"

I tapped the book tucked under my arm.

At that, the old man flinched violently and took a step back, as if I were waving a live bomb in his face.

"Young man! T-That is a cursed object...!"

Cursed?

Huh? I didn't feel anything.

The old man pulled the pipe from his mouth and pointed a trembling hand at the book, unleashing a torrent of words.

According to the owner's explanation, a dreadful curse was laid upon the book.

A very long time ago, a mad sorcerer had stopped by this Secondhand Bookstore and secretly slipped that book into the stacks. And he hadn't just left it there; he had bound it with a powerful barrier and a vicious curse.

Since then, no one could lay a finger on that book, let alone the pile of books surrounding it.

"...There wasn't just one or two who tried to pull that thing out."

The old man swallowed hard.

"A perfectly fine fellow had his shop completely ruined that very day and ended up on the streets. Another fell gravely ill after three days and was bedridden. And another was minding his own business, walking down the street, when he got struck by a freak car accident... In short, I've never seen anyone who touched that thing meet a good end!"

...Wait.

If it's that dangerous, you should have put up a fence or at least a warning sign. Are you trying to kill the whole neighborhood?

As I silently judged him, the tension on the old man's face suddenly vanished, replaced by a bright beam as he burst into hearty laughter.

"Bwahaha! So I just left it there. I figured sooner or later, some fearless idiot like you would show up and yank it out!"

Ah. So that was why the bookstore was exceptionally filthy.

Since he couldn't touch it, he couldn't clean it either.

Ah... is that why the other corner is like that too?

I instinctively pointed to the opposite corner of the shop. Books were piled up there in a chaotic mess as well, leaving no room to step.

"Ah... so that corner over there is also like that because of a curse? Because of the danger...?"

"Huh? No, not that one."

"..."

"I just didn't clean that spot."

"..."

Ah.

...He was just lazy.

I began to suspect that this book hadn't been left there because of some grand, terrifying curse, but simply because he couldn't be bothered to clean it up.

Well, whatever.

A cursed book, huh.

According to the old man, just touching it should have sent a violent shock through my entire body, making it impossible to even pull out.

But I was completely fine.

In fact, strangely enough, I didn't want to let go of it.

Cursed or not, the leather cover was sturdy and high-quality. If worst came to worst, I could just use it as a notebook later. That was my plan.

More importantly, it was time to pay.

I placed the book on top of the other books I had selected and set them on the counter.

"How much for all of these?"

The old man stared down at the books on the counter for a long time.

Then, he slowly spoke.

"...Fifty million won."

...Excuse me?

Holy shit. Is everything in the supernatural world this expensive?

He said a single bell was five million won, but five crappy theory books cost fifty million won?

As my expression froze—

"Pfft. Bwahahaha! It's a joke, a joke! Look at your face!"

The old man suddenly burst into hysterical laughter. He slapped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his knee with the hand holding his pipe, laughing so hard that tears welled in his eyes.

"I won't take it, I won't take it. It feels like a ten-year-old clog in my chest has finally cleared out. Thanks to you, I can finally do some deep cleaning after all these years."

"Then the price of the other books..."

"Aiyoo, I said I'm not taking it! Take those too! Go on, get out of here!"

As I awkwardly gathered the pile of books, the price tag on the back cover of the introductory talisman book caught my eye.

...Three point eight million won?

For this? This cheap, magazine-like thing?

I peeked at the theory books underneath. Every single one of them had a string of zeros attached. The thinnest one was over two million won.

...If I add all of these up, it easily goes over ten million won.

Even if fifty million won was a joke, these weren't things I should be taking for free.

"Shoo, shoo! I have to clean!"

The old man waved his hands, pushing me toward the door.

He seemed incredibly excited, already pulling out a broom from somewhere and humming a tune.

With a pile of books worth millions of won in my arms, I was practically swept out of the Secondhand Bookstore.

The moment I arrived at Dohyun's Workshop, I collapsed onto my bed.

"Whew..."

I had gotten lost in the alleys again on the way back. It was a path I had definitely taken before, but I had to circle the same alley three times before finally finding the main road.

There had to be some kind of path-blocking spell cast on the alleys in this neighborhood.

No, actually, maybe there really was. This was a neighborhood dealing with spells and barriers, so it wouldn't be surprising if they could do something like that.

...I seriously considered it for a moment.

Well, probably not. I was just terrible with directions.

Anyway.

Lying on the bed, I lifted the Suppressor hanging around my neck.

...I feel like this thing is partly to blame.

Perhaps because of its effect ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of blocking spiritual power, wearing it made me feel strangely drained of physical energy.

I pulled the pouch off my neck.

Swoosh—

Instantly, my body felt as light as a feather.

I could feel something warm rising from my lower abdomen and circulating through my body.

The fatigue accumulated from wandering the alleys vanished in an instant.

It felt as if something that belonged inside me had finally returned to its rightful place.

"Wow."

I clenched and unclenched my hand. The sensation in my fingertips was incredibly sharp and alive.

It was a lightness that could never be explained by the poor stamina of someone who had done nothing but play games in his room for ten years.

So this is it.

So this is what spiritual power feels like.

Staring blankly at the ceiling, I pushed myself up. This was no time to be lying around.

"Ah... so that's basically how it works."

Spreading the books from the Secondhand Bookstore across my desk, I quickly skimmed through the necessary parts.

It was a process of translating the concepts from the game into the terminology of the real-world spiritual society.

What I used to call mana was called spiritual power here.

What I called a mana circuit was a spell circuit.

The attributes of spells were governed by the Yin-Yang and Five Elements, which were further divided into Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water.

The general framework was quite similar to the game. Only the names were different.

And finally.

The book with the highly untrustworthy title: You Can Do It Too! From Today, I Am the Talisman King.

When I opened it, sure enough, it was filled with exaggerated illustrations like a cheap magazine.

But still.

...This one is actually the easiest to understand.

The other books were packed with dense text that didn't register in my brain at all, but this one at least had pictures.

The shape and flow of the spell circuits engraved on the talismans were drawn as diagrams, albeit crudely.

As expected, talismans in this world weren't made by carving circuits.

They were made by drawing characters and patterns on Yellow Talisman Paper using Cinnabar or blood.

...How does it even work without a physical circuit?

It was a bit puzzling.

Well, I'd find out once I tried it.

At least I had grasped the big picture of this world's system.

"Shall I give it a try?"

Now that I had the theory down, it was time for practice. No matter what it is, you learn better by doing it with your hands than just looking at it.

I brought out a stack of Yellow Talisman Paper, Cinnabar, and a fine brush from the materials room.

Setting them all on the desk, I actually looked like a proper talisman maker.

"Ahem."

I lightly warmed up my wrist.

What I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was going to make today was the most basic Exam Pass Talisman.

I opened the introductory diagram proudly displayed on the very first page of Chapter 1 of You Can Do It Too! From Today, I Am the Talisman King.

There was nothing complicated about it.

A single circle. A few short patterns inside. And finally, a single Hanja character in the center.

It seemed to be a structure where drawing the circle locked the spiritual power inside, and then that spiritual power flowed along the patterns.

I lightly dipped the tip of the fine brush into the Cinnabar.

I focused my spiritual power into my fingertips.

I could feel the red liquid swirling at the tip of the brush. Infusing my spiritual power into that flow felt strangely satisfying.

Slide—

I drew a circle on the paper.

Next, the inner patterns.

And finally, the large Hanja character in the center.

The moment I lifted the brush from the paper—

Hummm—

The talisman vibrated faintly. Just a tiny bit.

"Oh."

Look at that. It actually reacted.

I felt a sudden surge of dopamine in my chest. It had a different kind of thrill compared to carving circuits into metal.

This was easier than I thought.

"...Huh?"

But something was off.

I had clearly drawn everything according to the diagram, and the talisman had reacted. But it felt empty.

It was as if I had crafted a perfectly beautiful vessel, but the inside was completely hollow.

I tried channeling spiritual power into it.

It seemed to seep into the circle for a moment, but then it slipped through my fingertips and scattered into the air.

The energy couldn't be contained.

"...Did I do it right?"

I held the talisman up to the light.

The red writing was perfectly fine, but I couldn't feel anything from it. It just looked like a dead drawing.

If this was the case, I didn't see how it was any different from just writing Hanja on a piece of paper.

I flipped through the Talisman King book again.

The 'how-to-draw' section was detailed to the point of being overly kind. How to draw the circle, the order of the patterns, where to place the Hanja.

But that was it.

An explanation of the fundamental principles, like why the spiritual power was leaking or how to trap it inside, was nowhere to be found.

The other theory books were the same. Perhaps because they were old books, the explanations weren't friendly at all, and worst of all, half the book was written in Hanja, making it a chore to read.

Why did they have to write all the terms in Hanja for no reason?

Setting the brush down, I leaned back in my chair and sighed.

Then, my eyes casually drifted to the weathered leather book pushed to the side of the desk.

The Apprentice's Diary.

"...Huh?"

My gaze froze.

"..."

When I had flipped through it at the bookstore earlier, the pages were definitely blank.

But now, in the middle of the yellowed first page...

I could see characters clearly written in black ink.

"...What?"

I rubbed my eyes and looked again.

It was definitely there.

On top of the yellowed paper, clear black ink marks were deeply embedded.

It had definitely been a blank page.

"...How is this happening?"