The Runaway

Honestly, he wasn't in the best of moods. Whatever the excuse — a man had declared he meant to test him, and that was all there was to it.

Kang Hyeong-seok let out a sigh with his head tipped against the passenger seat, while Shin Yo-sep drove the SUV on in silence.

Fine. Drive your heart out. Let's just see where you take me. Whether we end up at a ruin, an abandoned house, or a bona fide haunted one. Anywhere at all — go on, then. Drive.

With a soft huff, Kang Hyeong-seok checked his wristwatch and let his gaze drift over the scenery beyond the window.

It was a weekday morning, so neither cars nor people crowded the streets. For a man whose job came with constant field calls, the view itself was nothing unfamiliar — but because the situation was, it all landed strangely, like something he was seeing for the first time.

"Think of it as a drive."

"It's work."

At Kang Hyeong-seok's flat reply, the corner of Shin Yo-sep's mouth rose for a moment, then settled back down.

"Fair enough. It is work."

A business meeting with a client — looked at that way, there was nothing about this situation to complain about. Kang Hyeong-seok breathed out until his cheeks bulged, and a quiet resolve gathered strength in his eyes. Plenty of the clients he sat down with loved hiking. With those, he'd smile and hand over even his weekends, climbing trails right alongside them; if a client liked his drink, he'd fill the man's glass without a flicker of complaint. Riding along with Shin Yo-sep was no different.

Grrrm. After a long stretch of driving, the car began to slow in front of a building.

"A cathedral?"

"An orphanage."

The building looked, at a glance, like a small cathedral. Shin Yo-sep parked and got out, and Kang Hyeong-seok followed him down.

"Father Ignatius! What brings you here?"

A nun whose hair was hidden completely beneath her veil came hurrying out to greet him, breathless and flustered.

"I've come to see the children. And… that form of address, if you don't mind…"

The nun glanced at Kang Hyeong-seok standing beside him, nodded with a stiff face, and asked, "Is it because of the boy?"

Asked outright, Shin Yo-sep admitted that it was, and the nun — seeming to grasp the rough shape of things — quietly withdrew.

With the orphanage quiet again, Kang Hyeong-seok turned his eyes on him. "That's your baptismal name?"

"Mind your own business."

There was, unmistakably, a story behind this one. Face darkened, Shin Yo-sep walked on ahead, and Kang Hyeong-seok followed a half-step behind.

Inside, the orphanage carried an unfamiliar smell. He couldn't tell whether it was the scent that clung to religious facilities or simply the smell of children.

The first and second floors were full of children, who came bounding up to Shin Yo-sep in delight — then retreated to a careful distance the moment they spotted Kang Hyeong-seok.

"Looks like the kids like you."

Kang Hyeong-seok said it while watching the children peeking out from behind doors and stair railings, and Shin Yo-sep answered with a snort.

"They'd better. Do you have any idea how much of my donation money comes into this place?"

Kang Hyeong-seok studied the profile beside him for a moment, then took his eyes off it. They'd traded enough words by now that he could tell — the difference between when this man meant what he said, and when he didn't.

Their footsteps carried them to the end of the third-floor corridor. Standing before the most out-of-the-way door in the building, Shin Yo-sep drew his car keys from his pocket — then opened the door with the small key hanging from the ring. In that instant, a smell both familiar and foreign, and thoroughly unwelcome, stabbed deep into his nose.

Whrrrrr. Seeing the air purifier chugging away in the corner of the room, Kang Hyeong-seok bit down on his lower lip.

"…What do you people call it?"

At the voice drifting over from beside him, Kang Hyeong-seok looked at the bed set in the middle of the narrow room — at the boy lying on it — and spoke. "Ghost stench."

"We call it Malodor. And no — it's not a good sign."

Evil ghosts, and demons. Undeniably different kinds of being — yet they seemed to have their similarities. And undeniably, they seemed to have their differences too.

Looking at the red warning light on the air purifier, Kang Hyeong-seok pressed his lips into a hard line, while Shin Yo-sep swept a sweat-damp fringe of hair back from the boy's forehead. "He's a Bumaja — a demon, hiding behind a screen of earthbound ghosts. Not the one I'm looking for, but it'll be much the same thing."

It was an explanation he could follow, so Kang Hyeong-seok nodded.

They do say wicked things gather where wicked things are.

The earthbound ghosts were proof enough. Among the possessed, it was rarer than you'd think for a single spirit to be the whole of it. Once even one stray ghost settled into a body, the others came swarming after it like flies — which was how some patients ended up hosting more than fifty at once.

Just then, Shin Yo-sep shifted only his eyes toward him and drew a long, heavy breath.

"Show me what you can do."

That wasn't what he truly wanted to say. If it had been, his eyes wouldn't have looked so heavy, so damp.

Kang Hyeong-seok opened the pouch of ritual implements, taking the contents out one by one — and putting them right back.

"Why?"

"You use only what you need." He meant to use only what sat familiar in his hand. The pouch was stuffed with every manner of sacred gear, but all Kang Hyeong-seok drew from it was a single Sinjangkal.

"Don't you use the bells a lot?"

"I've got one I always use."

Kang Hyeong-seok laid the Sinjangkal across the bed and swung his bag around to his front. An uncomprehending look settled over Shin Yo-sep's face and tracked his every movement, but he said nothing, only watched as a pencil case came out of the bag. Inside that pencil case was the Mudang Bang-ul — the sacred shaman bells.

Ziiiip. He drew back the zipper and lifted the bells out — and the puzzlement on Shin Yo-sep's face hardened into something else. Their paths were different, but they were men who had walked similar lives. That was why, with not a word of explanation, Yosep could still tell: the shaman bells in Kang Hyeong-seok's hand were no ordinary object.

Charararang! The instant the bells rang out, Shin Yo-sep took an unbidden step back from the bed.

And then—

Whrrrrrr! The drone pouring from the air purifier swelled louder still. At the same time the stench curdled into something fouler; Shin Yo-sep wrinkled the bridge of his nose, and Kang Hyeong-seok held his breath and looked down at the boy. This was, in the end, a connection born of work. But there was no mistaking it: here was someone in desperate need of help.

Charang! Chararang! Shaking the bells to scour the air around them clean with numinous force, Kang Hyeong-seok raised the Sinjangkal. The blade ran about the length of a forearm. With it he cut steady arcs over the chest and around the head of the boy lying there — and Shin Yo-sep watched the whole procession as though determined to let not a single pass escape him.

It was a scripture steeped in its own peculiar cadence — the rite of expulsion that drives out wicked spirits, the first step toward casting out the stray ghosts clinging to the outermost layer.

Charang! Chang! Swish! Swish! Wielding the shaman bells and the Divine General Blade in turn, Kang Hyeong-seok read the boy's complexion.

A twitch. The boy's eyelids shuddered. The reaction was beginning. The earthbound ghosts entrenched inside his body were convulsing like a nest of worms brought to a boil, and the thickening ghost stench and Malodor were deadening his sense of smell by the second.

And then — the shaman bells rang out on their own.

CHARARARARANG!

Ringing with all their force, the bells drove back the energy as it soured toward poison. The air purifier went on howling at its ceiling reading of 600 — but the number was falling fast. The moment it sagged to 400, an image came crashing over Kang Hyeong-seok's sight.

Shin Yo-sep…? And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a boy. Sallow as his complexion was, the boy was conscious, lying in the bed with Shin Yo-sep's hand clasped tight in his.

Everything around them matched the present exactly — so exactly that, had Shin Yo-sep not been wearing a cassock, he could have mistaken the past for the here and now.

"Father, I'm so scared."

"It's all right. What's there to be scared of?"

Kang Hyeong-seok looked toward where the real Shin Yo-sep stood. Then he let his gaze drift back to the man holding the boy's hand.

"You've got nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. I'll make it better — I'll make it all better, I promise. You don't have to worry about a single thing."

It was a voice that made the chest go hollow just to hear it. A Shin Yo-sep without one grain of falsehood — and, at the same time, the true face of who Shin Yo-sep really was.

So this was the kind of man you were. People who could show that kind of feeling for someone else were not common.

Kang Hyeong-seok was watching him in silence when, all at once—

"Cut the bullshit, you runaway bastard."

The boy's gaze had turned fearsomely wild in a blink, and he hauled on Shin Yo-sep's arm. Despite the gulf in their builds, it was the boy who had hold of him — and glaring up at Shin Yo-sep, he peeled his mouth into a torn, widening grin. "Where do you get off playing priest? You're the one who ran because he was scared of us — the bastard who got his own teacher killed."

The person had changed. There was no other way to put it. Forehead pressed to forehead with Shin Yo-sep, the boy poured out a killing intent and a mockery that belonged to nothing human.

Shin Yo-sep, eyes blown wide, thrashed to break free — and the boy seized him roughly once more, bloodshot eyes blazing.

"You're next. Your seat in hell is already made up for you, and the brimstone's heating it even now. You're going to die, fall into hell, and suffer there for all eternity."

Wham! Shin Yo-sep flung the boy off and tore loose.

"Hah—! Hah—! Hah—!" His breath came in ragged heaves, his eyes pitching wild with terror.

It was the sight of a communion fully made — and because of that, he could feel what sight alone could not show him. How utterly vile was the thing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enthroned inside the boy. How scalding, too, was the fear and confusion drowning Shin Yo-sep.

"Ehehe… hehehehehe… hahahaha! Hwahahahahaha!"

The boy laughed until his throat tore, and his eyes went steadily redder until beads of blood gathered at their corners. Then, along the boy's lash line, scarlet tears traced long lines and dropped.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

For all his mirth, the eyes weeping blood were brimming with agony.

Shin Yo-sep dragged in rough gulps of air, then twisted the door handle. He left the boy behind in that room and stumbled outside, sank down against the door as though collapsing, and buried his face in both palms.

The vision ended there.

Charararang! The bells rang out once more, and his awareness and five senses rushed back to the present.

Shin Yo-sep stood frozen, apparently with no idea what had just happened. Watching him, Kang Hyeong-seok felt his own palms grow damp. He had known the man carried a story of his own. He simply hadn't known it weighed this much.

Chararang! Shaking the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bells again, Kang Hyeong-seok looked down at the boy's chest.

The rite of expulsion was taking hold. The earthbound ghosts shielding the demon were trying, wracked with pain, to flee the boy's body — and yet something stronger than all of them had them in its grip. That binding had to be severed.

Shwooosh! Sweeping the Sinjangkal in one great arc to strip away the tainted energy, Kang Hyeong-seok turned his gaze on Shin Yo-sep.

"Now I'm going to cast the ghosts out. Your part is the important one. So pull yourself together."

A strong plea was woven into Kang Hyeong-seok's voice, and Shin Yo-sep's eyes turned toward him. His pupils were trembling, ever so slightly — but he gave a slow nod.