Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Yu Eun-ha
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Shrine Maiden.
In subculture circles, it’s a profession that shows up pretty often, but they’re hard to spot in real life. For starters, there basically aren’t any in Korea—you have to head to Japan just to catch a glimpse of that hairstyle. And even then, the ones who appear in public aren’t genuine shrine maidens; they’re just cosplayers.
The essence of a shrine maiden differs quite a bit from Korean shamans or clergy. Shamans carry the image of devoutly serving gods and driving out evil, whereas shrine maidens deliver oracles and proclaim them, or liven up divine festivals with songs and dances, among other things. They handle a wide range of roles.
Of course, Korea doesn’t have tons of real shamans either, but you could still spot one or two roadside without much trouble. Shrine maidens, though, are confined to shrines, so running into one isn’t easy.
And that was the full extent of Ian’s knowledge about shrine maidens.
He hadn’t gone out of his way to research them, but more than that, being a foreign custom, he hadn’t paid it much mind.
How could you expect to see shrine maidens in Korea when they’re rare even in Japan?
Spending time digging into shrine maidens would’ve been far less useful than gathering intel on shamans.
“Um? Customer? Customer?”
“Ah.”
He’d sunk too deep into his thoughts. Ian shook off the distraction upon seeing Miko gazing up at him, head tilted.
“That the bike?”
He pointed at the outline of something shrouded in cloth and asked. Miko beamed.
“Yes! Brand new, thirty million won just for the base price! Add another twenty million for autonomous driving and all the bells and whistles! A grand total of fifty million won motorcycle!”
“Payment confirmed?”
“Of course. Thanks for the clean transaction! The Cartel loves customers like you, Wizard!”
Clank.
Miko swung her prosthetic arm and whipped the cloth off the bike.
Beneath the flapping fabric, a sleek black motorcycle gleamed into view. Ian let out an involuntary gasp of admiration and ran his hand along its body.
“Ah, you touched it? No refunds now!”
Miko teased. Ian chuckled back and gave the bike a quick once-over.
Luckily, no flaws anywhere. It fired up smoothly, exhaust was whisper-quiet, and it came loaded with autonomous driving AI. Not a single scratch on the frame.
Clear sign of meticulous care. Ian tapped the fuel tank with his finger and grinned in satisfaction.
Sure, fifty million won was a hefty sum, but no regrets.
Money was something you could always make more of. He earned to spend, so no point hesitating on outlays. Everyone knew Cartel goods ran pricey as standard—better to calibrate his spending habits early.
Of course, that was all nonsense; he was simply thrilled to score a fresh new bike.
Ian glanced down at the idling machine—engine purring softly despite being on—then turned to Miko.
“Papers? Let’s get them done.”
“Right here. Pen included!”
Miko fished a stack of documents and a ballpoint from her pocket and passed them over.
His mood buoyed by the new ride, Ian still read every line carefully before signing.
It didn’t take long. Miko took the papers with a polite nod, leaned against the wall, and scanned for issues.
All good. She nodded and flashed a bright smile.
“Perfect! That bike’s yours now! Ride it however you like!”
“License plate?”
“Oh, right—for here. All registered, so no cop trouble. Insurance is Cartel-backed, steep monthly premium, but nothing you can’t handle, Wizard.”
The policy he’d just inked was from the Cartel’s own insurer. Covered front-end repairs free, hospital bills, and more—so the fees were no joke.
But as Miko said, hardly a burden. He could cover it with change to spare.
“Anything else I should know?”
“Hm... Nope! Just cruise freely! Oh—one thing! Don’t crash and mess up that face! Total waste!”
Ian burst out laughing at Miko’s effortless flattery and chit-chat. He took the bundled papers from her and swung onto the seat.
Kick the stand up, and the bike auto-balanced itself. Top-shelf AI. Money well spent.
“Then, that’s Cartel employee Miko signing off! Honored to serve—come back anytime!”
Miko bowed deeply as he prepared to roll out.
Pausing just before throttle, Ian eyed her green locks and murmured.
“Personal question. Why’s a Japanese shrine maiden slinging for the Cartel in Korea?”
“......Huh? Way too abrupt desu wa.”
“......Skip it if you’d rather.”
Ian turned away at the absurd lilt, but Miko straightened and replied offhand.
“Nothing to it. Arm got blasted off on shrine maiden duty, so I figured time to quit—ditched the gods and joined the Cartel.”
“......Right.”
“Yeah. No big deal. Why hide it?”
Miko shrugged, her prosthetic clanking.
“No regrets. Pay’s better, stability’s off the charts. Sure, run into the occasional ‘problem customer’ and might get killed, but that’s life.”
“Shrine maiden skills no good for handling that?”
“Told you—ditched it all. Just scraps of divine power and spirit sight left. Not much I can do.”
“Can’t use barriers or talismans like before,” Miko added, then grinned at him with her pink eyes.
“Curious about shrine maidens?”
“......Kinda.”
“Nope, can’t spill. Outsiders get divine smackdown. Took my powers but left the curse—my god’s a real jerk, huh?”
Ian cracked a wry smile at her banter.
One arm gone forever, bound by eternal silence curse—yet not a trace of sorrow in her tone or face. If anything, she radiated relief.
If he ditched his mage identity, went back to normal life lugging permanent maiming and a curse... Could he pull off her vibe? Doubtful. He’d probably crumble.
Pointless what-if. Ian planned to stick with mage life till the end.
He exchanged goodbyes with Miko and piloted the bike out of the logistics center. No helmet or gear yet, no enchantments—bit nerve-wracking—but the rushing wind lifted his spirits plenty.
‘Mountain Grandmother mentioned... this one.’
Ian switched to auto-pilot, pulled his phone to confirm the address.
Not too far. He gripped the bars again and voiced the destination.
[Destination confirmed. Route set. Initiating semi-autonomous for safety.]
Vroooom!
The bike surged toward his goal.
*
A forsaken backwoods mountain, shunned by hikers. Amid snowdrifts not yet thawed, a woman in a black hood stood solitary.
Her face was a total blank—not even an outline. Mask, shades, hat—it was impossible to peg her gender. Outfit screamed “body dump” suspect.
[Just billboard you’re a mage already.]
Lemegeton couldn’t hold back a jab. She wiped steam off her shades with a cloth and shot back.
“Does this scream mage? I’m just your average gal.”
[I’ve said it a million times: to grasp ‘average,’ get out and mingle. Ditch the community. Try SNS.]
“Who runs the community without me? And I’m outside now, like Solomon said. Quit nagging.”
[I meant make friends at least... Sigh, fine. Not your babysitter. Suit yourself.]
“How many times you said that now?”
[You know, so change.]
Yu Eun-ha ignored him, grabbed a stick, and scratched patterns into the dirt.
No kid’s doodle—these were wards to shield her from threats. Catholic spells: weak offense, stellar defense.
“Thou blessed by God’s grace, harm not this one—begone whence thou came and seek mercy.”
Blood droplets, pulverized bone, bread crumb atop the circle. Chant complete, ingredients melted into the pattern, vanishing.
Duplicates ringed her spot. Enough to subdue a snap aggressor with ease.
Not mere volume—prime quality too.
Lemegeton rated her magical prowess sky-high, personality aside.
No fluke picking her as master over Clock Tower elites on earth’s far side.
He just never dreamed she’d be a hardcore agoraphobe shut-in.
Fix that a tad—no, overhaul it... hell, total personality transplant, and she’d be unmatched. God’s equity was bullshit.
[Haa... Back in my day, bratty mages got legs stove first...]
Yu Eun-ha blew off cranky Lemegeton, scooped snow, chucked it at a tree.
That’s when a motorcycle growl echoed nearby.
No roar, but it boomed clear in the empty wilds.
[Came.]
“....”
Eun-ha checked herself over amid Lemegeton’s mutter.
Mask? Solid.
Shades? Check.
Hat? Decent.
Face? Invisible.
Flawless. She nodded approval, yanked her parka hood low, and peered toward the noise.
Moments later, a black bike crested into view.
Rumbling up the path sat a guy in black turtleneck and coat.
The man from weeks back, strolling the riverbank.
‘Was legit.’
His post claiming workouts at that familiar spot had pinged her suspicions—never figured it true. Fate? Coincidence?
[Eun-ha.]
Mid-thought, Lemegeton cut in gravely.
[Run.]
Out of left field. Eun-ha blinked, tilting her head.
“...? Pardon?”
[Run away.]
Lemegeton barked sharp.
[That psycho’s packing two otherworld grimoires...!]