14. Transcendence (1)
Nobody knew the full story of the incident. All that remained was the objective fact that on the very day I hunted down that mass of flesh, high-ranking officials from the Elf Management Bureau and the Hunter Association had gathered in one place for some purpose, only to end up committing suicide.
Though the exact locations differed, they all shared one spatial commonality: they were discovered inside damp, dark containers situated in remote mountain valleys in the dead of night. Those containers bore clear traces of what looked like dangerous ritualistic acts, and the air was thick with mana so dense that ordinary people could barely breathe.
"Something's off, right?"
Baek Seol-yeon, who had been explaining the details of the incident, spoke up. It was obviously strange. Even if you chalked it up to some destitute outcasts or hopeless vagrants pulling off the deed, there were still too many unresolved questions. But for people in high positions with heavy responsibilities—folks who held critical roles—to band together for something like this? It was an inexplicable aberration.
In fact, their surviving family members were reportedly wailing in front of government buildings, begging for their fathers, mothers, siblings to be brought back to life.
"...What the hell?"
It was like something out of a mystery novel. The most plausible view was that someone had intervened, but who in the world could orchestrate something like this? Magic might be a product of miracles, but it wasn't omnipotent. You could kill with magic, sure, but hypnotizing people like some shady app from the dark web? Impossible.
Spirit arts, with their vast variety and scope, might pull it off, but on Earth, the spirits' power wasn't strong enough to affect living humans that way.
"They get drugged or something?"
I asked Baek Seol-yeon. No matter how I thought about it, the only way to make sane people commit such absurd acts was drugs. It might be impossible on a sober mind, but if they were blackout drunk, high as a kite, or otherwise mentally compromised, spirit arts could potentially work.
But her response shattered my speculation entirely.
"No evidence at all. No alcohol or drugs in the autopsies. Aside from them, there were no traces of anyone else at the scenes, their phones, offices—nothing."
She added something else.
"And this isn't the first time. It was a while ago, but the former Director—no, the one before last now. There was a similar incident back when he was in charge, though not with this many suicides."
Baek Seol-yeon's previous position wasn't low by any means. But it wasn't so exalted that she'd leap straight to Director either. The sudden turn of events seemed tangled in a web of complex reasons, but one stood out above all: fear.
They must have gone through internal meetings and votes, of course, but fear had played a huge role. Fear that this could happen again. That hesitation had kept people from stepping up, and it was probably that fear that propelled Baek Seol-yeon into the Director's chair.
In any case, the reluctant new Director of the Elf Management Bureau had personally tracked down every elf living in Incheon right after the incident, while also striving to uncover the truth behind the mass suicide of the higher-ups.
And after much searching, she'd located someone who had been involved in a previous high-level mass suicide event but hadn't taken their own life.
However, she hit an unexpected roadblock.
"They refused to meet anyone but a mage. And not just any mage—a spatial magic user."
The survivor insisted only a mage could see them. Even after barely managing to reach their apartment door, she couldn't even have a conversation and had to leave empty-handed.
"Who is it?"
She smirked at my question and pulled out her phone, opening Nutube and navigating to a channel. It was one she was subscribed to—a channel I could never have imagined someone like Baek Seol-yeon following.
"...What's this?"
The channel name was bizarre right off the bat. A small channel with about 500 subscribers called Doom and Transcendence. It had various videos, but the titles mostly followed the same vein as the channel name—messy, without proper spacing.
The creepy thumbnails, cover image, and the frantic ravings of some disheveled shut-in in the videos led me to one conclusion.
"Just a doomsayer. A severe case."
Baek Seol-yeon grimaced at my assessment. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. Then she revealed the unexpected identity of that shut-in.
"It's the Elf Management Bureau's inaugural Vice Director. He was a university professor once—and my mentor."
Han Myung-hun, inaugural Vice Director of the Elf Management Bureau. That had been one of the titles this raving madman once held.
"The Bureau's first batch of executives were a total mess. Back then, humanity knew nothing about elves, gates, or magic. They were basically exiled there. Most lost motivation and just pushed papers, but one person worked with real passion. That was Vice Director Han Myung-hun."
Baek Seol-yeon heaped praise on him. The way her expression brightened as she recounted his deeds made it clear he'd once been a capable talent who positively influenced her.
From her story, Han Myung-hun had essentially been a parachute appointment. Unlike others in key roles who at least had comparable positions elsewhere, he hadn't even been a civil servant. He was just an ordinary family man in his late thirties working at a factory for a photocopying subcontracting company.
But in the early days of the gate crisis, he'd accidentally gotten sucked into a gate and survived. With so few survivors back then, he'd rocketed straight to Vice Director.
From that point, he'd realized his position could vanish in an instant and tackled his duties with his innate diligence and pioneering spirit.
"No one worked as hard as him. Nobody wanted to enter gates, but he went in and out repeatedly. Who'd want to? Half the people who went in died back then."
He had military escorts, sure, but he actively dove into gates. He brought back records of what he'd seen and felt inside, and he was the one who built the welfare system for elves. In Korea, he became a leading figure on gates and elves, elevating himself from a small factory job to university professor.
Even those who initially criticized him as a parachute hire shut up after seeing his achievements.
"..."
And now, this was his current state. A shut-in who didn't even work, forcing his delusions of impending doom on others via videos. For a man who'd once achieved greatness and helped lay the foundation for Korea's status as a hunter powerhouse, it was pathetically unbelievable.
"We're here."
As I was engrossed in one of the channel's videos, Baek Seol-yeon pulled the car to a stop. We'd arrived at an old villa complex midway up a mountain, without even an underground parking lot.
We climbed the stairs of the shabbiest building and stopped in front of Room 304. The door was plastered with talismans and yellow ritual strings. A single A4 sheet boldly declared "Spatial Mage Only," scrawled in crooked, uneven handwriting like a child's.
Knock knock—The doorbell was broken, so she rapped on the door. I sensed movement inside, but no response. The door stayed shut.
Baek Seol-yeon spoke up soon after.
"Vice Director Han Myung-hun. It's Baek Seol-yeon."
She deliberately didn't mention me—probably due to some lingering attachment deep in her heart. But whatever was beyond the door ignored her sentiments, responding only with a bizarre noise.
"Kwaaaack!"
It was an inhuman screech, impossible to parse as a normal person's reply. She hesitated at the doorknob for a moment before stepping aside for me.
Vmmm—Unlike her, I didn't speak. She'd said the freak inside wanted a spatial mage. So I'd make him feel it.
I released a tiny amount of spatial mana from my body, sending it through the door into the space beyond.
Bang! The door that hadn't budged for Baek Seol-yeon's pleas flew open. The interior finally came into view.
"..."
Baek Seol-yeon looked a bit dejected at the sight but quickly pulled herself together and entered Room 304 with me.
"Hieeuaaa! Haaack!"
Han Myung-hun's appearance was beyond pitiable— "pathetic" didn't even cover it. He didn't look like someone who'd once held a high office. His white beard had grown long and tangled, untrimmed for years. A stretched-out tank top hung off his neck. These details only amplified his haggardness.
The old man stood awkwardly in the entryway, staring at me with bloodshot eyes.
"Uwaaa! Gwaaack!"
Pointing at me with a cracked-nailed finger, he bellowed. We stepped inside and closed the door. The old apartment felt suffocatingly full with just the three of us.
Rustle—Trash piled everywhere made it hard to move. The fluorescent light was long broken, leaving the blinking monitor glow as the room's only illumination.
"..."
Baek Seol-yeon stared at her former mentor in silence, her eyes filled with complex emotions. Ignoring his disciple's feelings, Han Myung-hun kept screaming at me.
"Gwaaaack! Keeeaaack!"
Like someone who'd seen something they shouldn't, he raced around the room shrieking. Then he stopped, rummaging through the scattered junk.
The madman pulled out a tattered, yellowed notebook covered in random scribbles and approached me.
"Keehook. Hoo haa kack."
He extended it toward me as if desperate to hand it over. I carefully took the notebook from him.
Slide—It was so damaged it was impossible to tell what had been written. There were traces of writing, but illegible amid the bizarre doodles, drawings, and chaotic lines slashing through everything.
Baek Seol-yeon glanced at the notebook, then quietly started cleaning up her mentor's apartment.
"..."
As I flipped through it, pondering what any of this meant, one thing dawned on me.
"Hold on."
The notebook was stained with blood, saliva, and feces in many places. Han Myung-hun was likely the source. Disgusting, but not the issue.
"Spatial... mana."
Baek Seol-yeon whipped her head around at my words. I revealed the truth—why he'd become this lunatic, and why he sought a spatial mage.
"This notebook is steeped in dense spatial mana. And it's... Vice Director Han Myung-hun's."
Vice Director Han Myung-hun. Or perhaps now, Han Myung-hun the spatial mage. He'd embedded his life's pursuit into this notebook in his own way. At the end of his life, sacrificing even himself, he was searching for someone who could read what he'd created.