The Mage's Nest
He set aside the memories of conquest for now and rose from his seat with resolve, heading to the next room.
Unlike the sparse living space with just a computer and bed, this was a blank canvas for his true future.
The air still faintly carried the scent of charred flesh, a reminder of the villa's dark past.
One wall held a sturdy workbench he'd just assembled and storage bins for parts, while in the corner a secondhand mini-fridge hummed lowly and steadily.
This would be his true sanctuary from now on: the Magic Workshop.
When Jinwoo opened the fridge door, a bizarre, fishy stench—like a rotten butcher shop mixed with damp soil—wafted out alongside an unnaturally frigid blast.
Inside were portions of the horrific creatures he'd hunted in nightmares so far, neatly sorted into ziplock bags.
Skinwalker hides tanned to an eerily human texture. Beside them, a long clump of Jang-san-beom fur, snow-white and silk-smooth yet radiating an ominous aura that seemed to steal one's voice just by looking.
And in small glass vials, their blood had congealed into a dark-red, jelly-like mass.
These weren't mere corpse scraps. They were precious components infused with potent magic, unobtainable anywhere in the world.
Gazing at the evidence of his hunt against those vile beings, a gloomy arrogance swelled in his chest.
From the grimoire at his waist, it seemed to read his thoughts, speaking in a low voice that resonated through the entire room.
[But more immediate and dangerous threats exist: your fellow kin. You're not the only one walking the path of magic. They prowl like wolves, ever sniffing out new territories or vulnerable kin. An unprepared workshop like this is practically an invitation to pillage everything. And don't forget governments and corporations. As your fame grows, those self-proclaimed hyenas will swarm, drawn by the scent of your power. They can't wield magic, which makes them all the more brute and relentless in seizing it. They have the mass and numbers to overwhelm you. Before you can chant a single spell, they could crush your nest under waves of steel and gunpowder. Thus, first erect a defensive barrier over this entire space to block physical and magical intrusions, perfectly concealing your presence. With your power, my knowledge, and those materials, it can be completed in days.]
"I know."
Jinwoo replied as he closed the fridge door. His voice held no impatience—only the calm anticipation of a man finally executing a long-awaited plan.
At the grimoire's question, Jinwoo gazed at his reflection in the window. Faded T-shirt and sweatpants from the semi-basement. The image of a powerless youth discarded and forgotten by society. He refused to remain that way.
"First, proper mage's attire. Something to erase this wretched shell entirely, ensuring no one dares belittle me. A deep, black robe that cloaks me like shadow."
He glanced back at the fridge. The material was already decided. Skinwalker hide, capable of stealing others' forms, would perfectly conceal his identity.
"And... a face befitting my name. As the world calls me the Crow Mage, a crow mask to instill terror. That shall be my true visage."
Finally, he grasped the grimoire at his waist.
"Lastly, as you said. A staff to unite us, unleashing my true power. No longer stolen from others, but a symbol forged solely for me. The scepter to throne my empire."
Jihyuk's mad post of praise on the Mystery Gallery had initially filled him with electric triumph. Mockers apologized and marveled; overnight, he became the community's hero. But the glory was fleeting.
His careless words drew sharks to blood: all manner of predators.
First came the view-hungry NewTubers. Somehow procuring his address, they live-streamed 24/7 from his doorstep, bellowing, "Viewers! The miracle girl Kim Sea is right inside!"
Endless doorbells and camera lenses through windows triggered Sea's panic attacks.
Mainstream media soon joined. Branded vans clogged the alley; reporters mobbed Sea en route to school, thrusting mics forward.
"Kim Sea! What horrors did you endure in the nightmare?" "Did the savior really wear a wizard hat? Tell us more!" "The public has a right to know!"
Sea collapsing in tears under flashbulbs aired nationwide that evening. Jihyuk raged to block them, only met with, "Her brother! More on the hero who saved her? Any way to contact him?"
His post was no longer thanks—it was coordinates screaming "prey here." Home became prison; windows, eyes of watchers. Sea barricaded indoors.
Worse, unseen eyes lurked beyond press and streamers.
For days, the same black sedan parked nearby. Middle-aged men in hiking gear prowled—obviously not locals. National Intelligence Service agents.
The government cared nothing for protecting the siblings. Their sole aim: "Crow." Any chance he might recontact them or check on his save. They baited hooks with the pair. Agents tapped comms 24/7, eyeing chances to plant bugs.
Jihyuk finally realized his blunder. Pure gratitude to the savior had turned his sister into spectacle and state bait—a horrific mistake.
Nights, trembling with guilt before her bedroom door as she slept.
His feelings toward the Crow Mage twisted from reverence to resentment and tangled dread.
He'd saved her—yet thrust her into deeper hell.
Nightly, he slumped before her door, regretting that post in futile whispers, tears silent as he sank into his hell.
Sea’s hell was deeper, more insidious. The Amnesia Imprint erased her rape memories, but not the body's sensations or soul's scars. She couldn't fathom her anxiety, revulsion at men's gazes, self-loathing as "dirty." Mind blanked, body remembered all.
And nightly, the Dream Demon's Whisper activated without fail.
As sleep claimed her, she returned to that dark, decadent room. In dreams, the "savior" in deep mage hat and white mask appeared.
But he wasn't fearsome here. He alone quelled her anxieties and terrors.
Declaring a "purification rite" needed, he caressed her tenderly. Where his cold touch grazed—like that fateful day—irresistible heat surged through her.
He whispered endlessly in her ear.
"This is true salvation." "You were born for me." "Your body is mine."
The voice seeped into her subconscious like curse and sweet gospel. In dreams, she relived losing purity's pain—only for it to transmute into ecstasy scorching every nerve. Embraced, accepting him, she climaxed repeatedly.
"Ahh...♡ Savior... more...♡"
Unashamed, she spread her legs, craving him.
Awakening was the torment. Heart pounding, sweat-soaked, slick heat between thighs. Revulsion and shame crashed, yet deep within, dream's afterglow thirsted. Loathing herself, she huddled under covers, sobbing muffled.
Her body betrayed her will, nightly chasing unknown pleasure.
One night, after nightmare sobs, Jihyuk entered quietly.
"Sea-ya, scary dream again? It's okay, bro's here."
To soothe, he sat on the bed, stroking her back gently.
Her body stiffened like snake-bit. Affection from any man but Jinwoo—her branded taboos forbade it.
Brother's warmth felt not comfort, but repulsive, creepy violation.
"Don't touch me!"
Sea shrieked sharply, flinging his hand like vermin. Eyes filled with terror and inexplicable disgust.
Jihyuk froze, hurt. His comforting touch now her object of hate.
From then, an invisible chasm yawned between siblings. Under one roof, isolated in private hells, unable to grasp each other's pain.