Chapter 63
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Monster Tale Specialist Office: Mangnyang Cat (12)
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“Ugh— Sis, how much longer until Woli gets out of school?”
The two had been doing heavy labor for hours now. This was exactly when they wished Woli were around, but they couldn’t just abandon their work because she wasn’t.
“Setting up the same device on the first floor again is killing me.”
Taeju said as he plopped down on the stairs.
On the first floor, Siwoo was lost in thought by himself, so the two decided to take a break on the stairs for a moment.
“Should we call the school? Tell them to let her leave early?”
“She’d probably love that, but nah. She still needs to study.”
“I doubt she’s studying right now, though.”
Taeju nodded with a laugh, as if agreeing.
“Yeah, right? It’d be nice if we could’ve caught it in one go.”
Half self-deprecating, half joking, Taeju said.
“Why’s that my fault?”
Sia shot back with a grin of her own.
“Well, mine’s bigger, I guess. Though, I talked like I knew all about regret and guilt, but am I even in a position to say that?”
In truth, everything Taeju did left him with regrets, and he had an enormous amount of guilt weighing on him.
“That’s the kind of advice that comes from someone who’s been through it. What help could someone give who’s never felt any guilt or regret in life?”
“That actually makes sense.”
If Sia was right, it wasn’t entirely useless advice. It was somewhat comforting.
“And honestly, is there anyone who’s never felt regret or guilt?”
That was true too. Taeju started to nod, then a thought struck him.
“Probably. Wait, what about the Director?”
The sudden question popped into Taeju’s mind. Maybe the Director didn’t have any such regrets. It seemed plausible.
But Sia shook her head.
“Dunno. I’ve wondered if someone who knows that much carries even more regrets and guilt.”
She said it without full conviction, though. It made sense either way—whether he had them or not. That made it even harder to know.
“Well, unless he tells us himself, we’ll never know.”
Sia wrapped up the conversation.
“Anyway, enough of that. Let’s talk Mangnyang a bit. Nothing missing, right?”
“Yeah. Prep’s perfect. No issues this time.”
Taeju said worriedly. He felt confident, but after getting burned badly last time, he was still anxious.
“Yeah. If we mess up again, I’ll shut down the business.”
Sia said with a show of confidence.
“Oh no, who’s gonna jinx us now?”
Sia lightly punched Taeju’s shoulder at his joke.
“Hey, Kang. Less chit-chat, more moving.”
The two giggled as they bantered.
For Sia to declare it like that, she must have done a ton of research. And she felt the responsibility just as much. She didn’t show it, but it was obvious.
“As you command. Let’s haul this stuff. Still plenty left.”
* * *
The bell jingled. Seongho was used to the sound by now after hearing it so many times. He must have come straight from work to the office.
“Hello—?”
No answer.
Having arrived a bit earlier than scheduled, Seongho hesitated about whether to go in.
The place didn’t look like a cafe anymore. The floor was covered in lines and strings, with eerie tools scattered everywhere.
“This is…”
Seongho let out an involuntary gasp of admiration at the setup he’d never seen before.
“Wow, the vibe’s totally different.”
He couldn’t adapt to the changed atmosphere. Before, it had been a cozy spot for people. Now, it was the opposite. It felt like stepping into the center of a spiderweb.
“Like a space that rejects people.”
“Not one that rejects people, but one that welcomes non-people. The feeling ends up similar, though.”
Seongho looked toward the voice. It was Sia.
Taeju was chatting with Siwoo in the corner, and two unfamiliar female students were whispering to each other.
“What’s the difference?”
Seongho asked Sia as she approached slowly.
“A space that pushes people away has something visibly dangerous or painful. Like blades everywhere, or a room where torment is on display.”
For example, a torture chamber or an old prison. Depending on the person, sensitive types couldn’t stay long. They literally felt repelled.
“But a space that welcomes non-people doesn’t push people away directly. You just instinctively know this is a place bad things would like to haunt.”
Classic examples: abandoned houses or derelict hospitals. Nothing overtly dangerous, but still unsettling.
Seongho nodded as if he got it.
“So this place is set up to summon ghosts.”
“Anyway, chit-chat’s over.”
The conversation cut off abruptly. Seongho found it intriguing and a bit disappointing.
“Everything’s ready.”
Sia turned away after saying that. Seongho looked around, but nothing seemed different from before.
Actually, there was one difference.
“I don’t see my son.”
It struck him as odd that her son was missing when she said prep was done. Last time, he’d been in the center.
“Oh, I deliberately put him somewhere out of sight for now. Better if he doesn’t risk himself directly this time. He has his own role. So the guest has to take the center. It’s not dangerous.”
“Huh?”
Seongho was caught off guard by the unexpected turn.
“But when I give the signal, close your eyes immediately. Something you shouldn’t see might appear.”
Seongho couldn’t help tensing up at her words. No matter how he heard it, it sounded ominous.
“Last time, you said not to come because you might see something you shouldn’t.”
It wasn’t that he absolutely didn’t want to. If it was dangerous, better him than his son. But this was too sudden.
“True. But didn’t we promise? I’d let you participate directly.”
He had made that promise with Taeju.
“…I thought I was just observing.”
Sia nodded readily.
“This seemed better this time. Honestly, we failed to control it last time.”
Her words only heightened Seongho’s anxiety.
“We’ve prepped more this time, so it’ll be fine.”
“You know that doesn’t reassure me at all, right?”
Sia shrugged at Seongho.
No other choice. Having come this far, Seongho decided to follow their lead. Whether it killed him or fed him, he had to trust them.
“Let’s do it. What’s the worst that can happen—die?”
His son had bounced back in a day, so it couldn’t be that bad.
A little uneasy, but he could handle it. With that resolve, Seongho steeled himself.
* * *
Seongho sat tensely in the chair at the center.
No candelabras this time—there were electric lights. But the windows were all covered, and even the entrance was sealed.
“Hold this for a bit.”
Sia handed him incense.
“What’s this?”
As Seongho asked, Sia gave him a lighter.
“Incense. For summoning Mangnyang. From the moment you light it, no talking. And don’t get up from your seat.”
Seongho asked if that was all.
“Ignore whatever Mangnyang says. That’s your only job.”
Seongho nodded that he understood. Sia told him to light it when ready, and after calming himself, he did.
Just like before, the incense smoke spread. It swirled around Seongho before filling the room. Soon, the air changed. Heavy and decadent. Not bad, but not good either, Seongho thought.
Time dragged on, and Seongho waited anxiously. He regretted not asking how long it would take when the atmosphere shifted.
“It showed up fast.”
One of the female students said. But Seongho saw nothing.
A voice came, though.
“Doing the same thing again.”
Seongho jolted. It was his father’s voice. But he remembered not to speak no matter what, so he just stared wide-eyed.
Soon, a bizarre creature appeared. His father’s face on a beast’s body. No wonder his son lost it a bit after seeing that, Seongho thought.
He held his breath and watched.
“It’s talking this time.”
Sia asked.
Last time, it hadn’t said a proper word. The only sounds were calling names and screams.
“Hmph, what can a talentless shaman hack do? Greenhorn.”
Mangnyang mocked Sia.
“That cuts deep.”
Sia gave a wry smile. No need to rise to that kind of bait.
“You’re talking, so I’ll ask. Why’d you come?”
By acknowledging it could talk, she was opening dialogue—even if just for mockery.
And as expected, Mangnyang said,
“Why? To laugh at you idiots, obviously.”
“Laugh at us? That can’t be the only reason.”
At Sia’s point, Mangnyang cackled.
“Stating the obvious and acting smart. Of course there’s more.”
Mangnyang freely twisted its expression. The old man’s face made it grotesque. Sia asked upon seeing it.
“You look better than last time. Something good happen?”
“Tch, don’t you think? Last time I was weak. Now I’m better. Shouldn’t have stuck to that old fart. Damn it.”
Mangnyang spat curses with every word. Sia didn’t flinch.
“What did that old man do to you?”
“Stuck for fun, and he clung like crazy. Couldn’t change out of this form for a while. What a pain.”
Just as the Director said. Sia asked as if hearing it for the first time.
“Hmm, couldn’t you just peel him off?”
“The geezer was stronger than he looked. But old man strength’s still nothing.”
Mangnyang still spoke in the old man’s voice. Sia was sure he was still attached. The plan would work.
“Pfft, so you couldn’t beat one old man? Some Mangnyang you are.”
Sia mocked back. Mangnyang’s face hardened, displeased.
“You’ve annoyed me this much, so that old man’s family won’t go unscathed. You too.”
A declaration. But Sia ignored it and said her piece.
“Hmm, sure. Do whatever. But I have one question.”
Sia asked. Mangnyang answered leisurely.
“What, last question before you die?”
“Why target the grandson first, not the son?”
Mangnyang’s—Grandpa Siwoo’s—face stiffened instantly.
“Because he interfered with what I wanted.”
Seongho didn’t get it, but Sia nodded as if she did.
“That again. Not praiseworthy since that wasn’t the intent.”
Sia muttered.
“Curiosity satisfied? You idiot, did you think this could hold me?”
Mangnyang kept mocking Sia.
“Hmm, I thought it could.”
“With this?”
Mangnyang rolled laughing.
“It’s barely different from last time. You tried tricking me, but it’s obvious!”
Mangnyang bragged as if seeing through Sia’s barriers. It wasn’t wrong. The barriers were stronger, but useless against it.
“You’re the biggest idiot!”, Mangnyang ranted. But Sia just stared calmly.
“Hmm, I knew ritual barriers wouldn’t work, obviously.”
Sia smiled faintly. Only then did Mangnyang sense something off.
“What?”
Shamans stuck to traditional ways. Mangnyang had seen them amp up barriers plenty to catch it, so it relaxed at Sia’s.
Mocking and slipping away from stronger barriers—that experience. But this time, it was poison.
“No ritual prep could catch you.”
“Then why talk all cryptic and shit, scaring me.”
Mangnyang had relaxed and mocked, but Sia’s expression didn’t change. As it approached step by step, it stopped at her next words.
“So I prepped this.”
The moment Mangnyang looked puzzled, Sia snapped her fingers. Light burst from everywhere.
No rituals or tricks.
Pure light everywhere—no shadows, no dark corners. No barriers for Mangnyang to slip into. If it lived on light-shadow borders, remove those borders from the space.
No place to move, no place to flee.
“I’ve got no qualms using other methods. Why not use something this good? How’s science taste, you freak!”
Sia, now wearing sunglasses, mocked Mangnyang.