Chapter 60
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Monster Tale Specialist Office: Mangnyang Stray Cat (9)
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“Long time no see.”
The Director grinned, and Seongho bowed his head as he spoke.
“Thank you for that time.”
His anger had somewhat subsided.
“No need to thank me. I was just fulfilling a request from your father. That man was half out of his mind, but his determination was something else.”
Seongho looked puzzled by the Director’s words and asked back.
“Pardon? My father... made a request? What do you mean?”
“In other words, it wasn’t a coincidence that you ended up here.”
The Director said with a smile. Taeju, who had no idea what had happened between them in the past, just blinked.
“Now, you remember me saying we’d meet again, right? Doesn’t that prove this isn’t just some simple scam?”
“I owe you a great debt from before. But this is the first I’m hearing of that.”
Seongho spoke with a noticeably calmer tone than last time. Whether he believed in ghosts or not was no longer the issue.
In a place like this, meeting a person like this couldn’t just be dismissed as mere coincidence.
Calling his one and only benefactor a con artist was neither rational nor moral.
However, there was one thing he needed to clarify.
“My father made a request?”
“Exactly as it sounds. Your father asked me for one thing. It wasn’t an official request since it didn’t go through the office, but I’m the boss here! If I decide to take it, rules be damned.”
Taeju wanted to butt in since it was news to him too, but the atmosphere wasn’t right for it.
“My father wasn’t in his right mind back then... What kind of request was it?”
Seongho implied there was no way it was true, and even if it was, a request from someone not in their right mind meant nothing. But the Director shook his head.
“It’s not wrong to say he wasn’t in his right mind, but even dementia patients have moments of clarity.”
The Director looked straight at Seongho as he said this.
“At the moment he made the request to me, your father was perfectly lucid. Believe it or not, that’s up to you. But just for that instant, when he arrived at the shrine, he snapped out of it—and that’s when he met me.”
It was an unverifiable claim. And at the same time, the kind of claim a son would want to believe.
There were so many questions he wanted to ask.
What emotions had his father felt then? Why had he gone all the way there? How had he even gotten there? They were all mysteries he’d buried deep in his heart long ago.
But those weren’t the questions he needed to ask right now. Seongho steadied himself a bit and asked.
“...Let’s say that’s true. So, what exactly did my father request from you?”
Seongho asked, his edge dulled.
“At first, he asked if I could remove what was attached to him. He knew the cause of his sudden decline. As you might guess, it was the mangnyang clinging to him.”
“And what did you do?”
“I could’ve removed it, but peeling it off wouldn’t cure the dementia. Plus, when he heard the mangnyang would just latch onto someone else, your father canceled that wish.”
Seongho nodded, thinking it sounded just like his father.
“Then he asked if he could hold onto it until the end.”
Seongho stopped nodding and stared at the Director with hollow eyes.
He had a hunch.
After his father returned from going missing, he kept shutting himself in his room. He’d come out briefly, only to go right back in.
Seongho had thought it was a relief that his father wasn’t going outside.
“Was that why he kept going into his room?”
“Yeah. Your father thought he had to lock himself away. The mangnyang wanted to go out. That inexplicable repetitive behavior was their disagreement.”
In the process, he’d torn up the whole house, so fearing his father might get hurt, Seongho had padded every corner with sponges.
After hearing this, Seongho asked.
“Did my father know something bad was attached to him?”
“He knew. He didn’t know it was a mangnyang or what it did, of course.”
No one would be unaware if something bad was clinging to them.
“Why didn’t he say anything...?”
Seongho swallowed the rest. The Director spoke first.
“Did anything that man said even make sense?”
“Pardon?”
“One of the mangnyang’s nastiest tricks is making anything the host says sound like the ravings of a senile old man. That’s why your father never outright asked for help.”
Seongho stared at the Director after hearing this.
“So the mangnyang can just live as it pleases without harmonizing with humans like others do. Even if it’s blatant, science can dismiss it. It only attaches to people already expected to babble nonsense. Oh, that was meant for Taeju. Eh, you’re listening anyway, so whatever.”
He’d veered off topic midway. The Director scratched the back of his head.
“Was that the end of the request?”
Seongho asked heavily. The Director nodded casually.
“That was it. He also seemed to want to see the place where he used to live before, so I took him around. It didn’t look the same anymore, of course. Just call it granting an old man’s wish—a little walk. That part was on the house.”
“...What did my father say when he saw it?”
“Nothing special. He just circled the building once and looked inside. I’m telling you in advance: up to that point, your father was still lucid. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to go check it out once this is over.”
Seongho wanted to ask more but hesitated on where to start. He wanted to hear what his father had done while lucid—even if it might be a lie. But before he could ask, someone else chimed in.
“Director, hold on. You accepted it?”
Taeju couldn’t hold back anymore and interrupted. Seongho didn’t look pleased, but Taeju ignored it.
“Yeah. He decided to hold onto the mangnyang so it couldn’t go to anyone else.”
Taeju was shocked by the sudden revelation.
“Then that form was...”
It meant the deceased had clung back to the mangnyang in reverse, preventing it from freely changing shape.
“It was his choice. But it won’t last long. Compared to the mangnyang’s history, that man’s life was ridiculously short. The reasons it worked anyway: first, mangnyang forms aren’t fixed; second, his will was insanely strong.”
Taeju—and everyone else—had thought it was just the mangnyang taking that form to bewitch Siwoo.
But that wasn’t true.
The mangnyang hadn’t taken that form to bewitch Siwoo; it had tried to bewitch Siwoo because of that form.
“The mangnyang had no other options.”
Who could have predicted something like this?
“Can a person’s will really do that...?”
“He was someone with exceptional willpower in life. Strong enough that even after death, people remember him that way.”
That was the Director’s assessment of why it was possible.
Finally, Taeju understood so much. Sure, there were still unknowns, but they were minor compared to what he’d just learned.
“I’ve been unusually chatty this time. But there were things you’d never figure out without me stepping in. Let’s call this a one-time exception.”
The Director chuckled as he said it.
“Oh, and no need to pay that guy. I already got the fee from your father ages ago.”
Both men were taken aback by the Director’s words. But leaving just that, he vanished again. He’d seemed like he had more to say, then just went upstairs alone.
The awkward atmosphere left the two standing blankly until Taeju spoke first.
“...Let’s talk this over again.”
“...Yeah.”
* * *
Fortunately, the conversation went smoothly.
Seongho’s first question was about the failure.
Taeju explained his misjudgment and the circumstances. He apologized again for his immature investigation and overlooking that Siwoo was still a child.
“Got it. So, next time it’ll succeed?”
Seongho asked with suspicious eyes. Taeju answered cautiously.
“There’s a high probability. But we need to re-investigate and check those points I mentioned before.”
Seongho nodded at Taeju’s words.
“Honestly, if you’d just said it was possible, I wouldn’t have believed you.”
Seongho said. Taeju’s expression softened a bit. It seemed he’d get another chance, as hoped.
“But this time, I need to be there when the mangnyang appears.”
Seongho demanded something Taeju couldn’t easily allow.
“That’s not a good idea. The mangnyang’s form could be a huge shock to your son—and especially to you. It might cause new problems.”
Taeju refused politely, but Seongho shook his head.
“I still need to see it.”
Taeju half-understood Seongho’s feelings.
As Siwoo’s father, he wanted to witness it firsthand.
But as the son of the deceased, Taeju didn’t want him seeing that form.
What to do? Taeju sighed softly.
“We’ll investigate first to make sure there are no other issues.”
“No, I insist on being there.”
“It’s hard to promise right now. We still have a lot to learn. Let’s talk about other things first.”
Taeju changed the subject. Seongho still looked displeased.
“But I’ll make you one promise.”
“A promise?”
“Yes. If I think it’s okay, I’ll let you face it exactly as you want, no question.”
Seongho closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.
“Understood. Let’s start with that then.”
As soon as Seongho spoke, Taeju began the essential questions.
“How was the relationship between Siwoo and his grandfather?”
Taeju had wondered if that maturity was something Siwoo truly wanted.
“Their relationship? Was there something else?”
Seongho asked, puzzled.
“That’s why I’m asking—what else happened?”
“Well, Siwoo spent the most time with my father in his final years.”
Taking care of a grandfather with dementia must have been tough, yet never complaining—maybe some kind of good child complex.
“Did something happen during that?”
Taeju mentioned Siwoo apologizing and saying he was sorry.
At first, Seongho said nothing came to mind, but then he recalled something.
“Oh, I did scold him badly once over something with Grandpa. Is that...?”
“What happened?”
Seongho sighed deeply before answering Taeju’s question.
“There was a rake in the house once.”
“A rake?”
Taeju guessed it was something the grandfather used for gardening.
“Yeah. Like a small hoe for the garden. It was in the shed—I think Dad must’ve brought it. But it was dangerous, so I yelled at the kid.”
“Siwoo must’ve felt really wronged.”
“Yeah. Looking back, it wasn’t his fault.”
“And after that, it never appeared in the house again?”
“Right. Scratches kept appearing around the house, so he probably couldn’t stop Dad from bringing it, but would put it back—over and over.”
Taeju pondered the word “scratches.” Seongho added they were especially around doors.
“Can I see those?”
Taeju thought it might be important.
“The scratches?”
But Seongho’s reply disappointed him.
“I already cleaned them all up. The rake is still there, though.”
Taeju settled for asking to see the rake.
“Got it. So, do you have a plan for catching the mangnyang this time?”
Seongho wanted to hear about plans to capture the mangnyang or protect his son.
Taeju answered carefully.
“We already prepared a means to catch it before.”
“A means?”
Taeju explained they knew mangnyang was weak to light and how they’d use it to capture it.
“So there’s a plan.”
“Hmm, but the details aren’t refined yet. It wasn’t that crucial before.”
At first, neither Taeju nor Sia thought they absolutely had to capture the mangnyang.
“We figured just driving it away would solve it.”
That assumption led to this mess.
“The old method has a high chance of failing to capture it. If our prior judgment was right, it would’ve been fine—just chase it off.”
But the premise had changed, so the goals had to shift.
“Now we’ve concluded we must capture the mangnyang completely. It’ll keep showing up otherwise.”
Siwoo wasn’t the mangnyang’s primary prey, but his mental state now made him vulnerable, plus some grudge.
“So we need to significantly reinforce the previous plan.”
“Not just drive it away, but eliminate it entirely.”
“Yes. Otherwise, the request to ‘prevent the mangnyang from reattaching to your son’ won’t be fulfilled.”
That was Seongho’s request.
“Simply repelling it would just bring the problem back—mangnyang or something else.”
“So my son will keep having issues, mangnyang or not.”
Seongho said in a somewhat depressed voice. He’d thought catching the mangnyang would fix everything, but no.
“I overlooked it until now too.”
Taeju said, hoping to comfort him.
“Siwoo’s just a middle schooler. It’s normal to have some issues at that age. The mangnyang just made it extreme. Puberty’s like that, right?”
“Yeah. He’s still young.”
Seongho thought so too.
Maybe he’d burdened a child with too much. Feeling like everything was his fault weighed on him, but he didn’t show it.
“How’s my son doing now?”
“He seems to have pulled himself together. How about having him stay here tonight? This place is relatively safe from weird stuff.”
“Let’s do that.”
Seongho needed time to think alone. After a bit more talk, he headed out. Summer was near, but the night breeze was still chilly.