A Cursed Detective and a Broken Sister
I wondered what kind of grudge this detective had earned…
Using resentful spirits to deliver killing curses was a specialty of Chinese shamans.
Was it a Taoist lineage? A mudang? Or perhaps the curse of a Special ClassJangcheonsa—a Celestial Master of the highest rank in the Quanzhen sect?
Japanese shamanism mostly involved shikigami-type techniques that directly commanded and manipulated ghosts, like the Lust Ghost that had possessed Choi Sujin.
By comparison, Chinese shamanism was far more varied.
Besides corpse manipulation and Gu Poison techniques, there were countless curses that weaponized resentful spirits to deliver death.
Detective Nam Gyuho was clearly fated to die at the hands of a rather powerful resentful spirit.
…None of which had anything to do with me.
“I’m in charge of the Cambodian missing persons cases,” he said.
“I see.”
The resentful spirit hovering above Nam Gyuho’s head tilted its head curiously.
The insolent thing stared straight through me.
I pretended not to notice and asked the detective, “Have you found any trace of my mother?”
Nam Gyuho’s expression hardened as he slowly shook his head.
“Your younger sister was lucky. She was discovered by another Korean in a Cambodian market and rescued. The one piece of good news I can offer is that a special task force has just been established to handle the recent surge in disappearances from Cambodia.”
“……”
A special task force meant a dedicated investigation unit.
It had only been created three months after Woo Minjung went missing—a classic case of shutting the barn door after the horse had bolted.
With the number of missing Koreans in Cambodia rising sharply and elections approaching, public pressure had finally forced the authorities to act.
“Are you the detective personally handling my mother’s case?”
“Yes, that’s correct. Cooperation from local authorities has been difficult, so our own investigation is proceeding slowly. However, we’ve uncovered evidence that a criminal syndicate has relocated its operations from Cambodia to Dubai, and we’re monitoring that angle closely.”
I nodded.
The South Korean police were doing what the Cambodian police wouldn’t.
Whether it was for votes or genuine concern, the fact that they were moving at all deserved praise.
“Please keep up the good work.”
Yet my request would probably echo in vain.
This detective was going to die soon because of that killing curse.
……Should I save him?
“By any chance, Detective, have you ever crossed a Chinese person?”
Nam Gyuho’s eyes sparkled.
His gaze toward me grew heavier.
He looked like he wanted to say something, then let out a small chuckle and shook his head.
“I’m afraid that’s part of an ongoing investigation, so I can’t disclose it.”
As expected, he had definitely earned the grudge of a Chinese shaman.
“Did it happen while you were looking for my mother?”
He shrugged lightly and gave a small nod.
If this detective died… rescuing my stepmother would become much more difficult.
It was then that he changed the subject.
“On another note, there’s something I wanted to ask about the tattoo that was carved into Miss Kang Minah’s abdomen.”
“A tattoo?”
“Ah, it’s gone now. A Special Class shaman healed her and the scar disappeared. But I took a photo before that happened. Let me show you.”
Nam Gyuho held out a picture of Minah’s stomach.
There, right above her uterus, were cruel characters brutally carved with a blade.
The scabbed blood had formed clear, unmistakable letters.
[10 billion won. If you don’t contact me, she dies.]
A chill ran down my spine.
I had stopped contacting my stepmother for about ten days, and this was the message they had sent using Minah.
It was a warning directed at me.
I steadied my breathing and put on an expression of complete ignorance.
“What do you think this message means?”
I turned the question back on Nam Gyuho.
A flash of disappointment crossed his face.
He had clearly been convinced the message was connected to me.
“So even you don’t know… Is there anything that comes to mind? It looks like a message meant for someone specific.”
“I really… have no idea.”
It was then that the filthy thing hiding behind Nam Gyuho’s head slowly poked itself out.
As if it had been holding its breath for a long time and could finally emerge.
Eyes without eyelids, unblinking white sclera stained yellow, drifted right in front of my face.
What an insolent bastard.
‘You can see me!!’
The resentful spirit snarled at me.
I was dumbfounded.
A mere first-grade resentful spirit dared to challenge me?
And it had even come close enough for me to touch.
Nam Gyuho remained completely unaware.
I lightly waved my hand as if shooing away a fly.
Whoosh.
At the same time, a small explosion sounded—pop!—and the first-grade resentful spirit was annihilated.
I hadn’t needed a talisman, hand seals, or incantations to perform an exorcism.
Just a touch of my hand and it was over.
With that, the killing curse that had been strangling Nam Gyuho was also dispelled.
“Ugh…”
Nam Gyuho rubbed his temple from the light impact.
“Ah??”
“Your head feels much lighter now, doesn’t it?”
“Huh? How did you know? I’ve been suffering from constant headaches lately.”
“This hospital must have good feng shui.”
I pressed my lips together.
I had no desire to reveal my abilities.
Nam Gyuho gave a light shrug and bowed to me.
“If anything comes to mind about that ‘10 billion won’ message, please contact me.”
I examined the business card he handed me on both sides before slipping it into my wallet.
This man…
There was a reason he was so easily exposed to killing curses.
He had an afflicted constitution—a ghost gate that was wide open, the kind that naturally attracted spirits.
“Yes, I’ll call if I remember anything.”
After parting ways with Detective Nam Gyuho, I helped my sister into a wheelchair.
Minah didn’t utter a single word. She simply stared off into the distance.
The discharge process was completed quickly.
The attending physician, who had stepped out for a smoke, once again gave me instructions.
“Even if the patient exhibits strange behavior, don’t try to stop her. Just observe. It’s part of the process of regaining her memories.”
“Understood. Thank you for everything.”
I bowed to the doctor and pushed the wheelchair toward the elevator.
“Why would anyone go to Cambodia and end up like that? Tsk.”
The doctor’s quiet mutter reached my ears, but I ignored it.
I felt the same way.
I didn’t know how much property my father had left in Cambodia, but we hadn’t recovered a single cent, and this was the result.
Wheelchair, car, wheelchair again.
Moving someone in a wheelchair was more difficult than I had expected.
Our house had stairs that were impossible to navigate with one.
“Does walking hurt?”
I asked Minah, but of course there was no reply.
Her pupils were completely unfocused. Her eyes were slightly rolled upward, so I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me or at the sky.
A soft sigh escaped me.
172 centimeters of slender height.
A near-perfect figure and graceful dance lines. She had been on the verge of debuting as an idol.
I wasn’t sure about her singing, but if she had debuted, her dancing alone would have easily placed her at the top among domestic idols.
Yet that same girl had been found in Cambodia as a broken wreck—legs shattered, Achilles tendons severed—begging on the streets.
“Life really is… fleeting.”
She used to speak rudely, with zero manners.
Whenever she talked to me, every sentence was laced with curses.
That foul-mouthed brat was now sitting blankly in a wheelchair, staring ahead.
All she wore was a loose patient gown.
I knelt in front of her, opened the wheelchair’s armrest, then leaned in and slid one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees.
“Mmph.”
I lifted her in one smooth motion.
As her body rose into the air, the gown slipped open, exposing her large breasts.
The soft, heavy weight of them pressed directly against my arm and chest.
She showed no reaction, but her body was very much alive.
When I took the first step up the stairs while holding her, my palm resting on her thigh felt a strange sensation.
A warm, wet liquid was flowing from between her thighs, soaking the back of my hand.
“Aigoo…”
Minah’s body, trained as a fucktoy in Cambodia, was far too sensitive.
Her eyes remained dazed, staring into empty space.
But the moment my hand touched her, her body instinctively began leaking love juices.
Her body started trembling faintly in my arms.
Her nose twitched. Was she smelling me?
The warm fluid running down her thighs grew hotter.
The amount increased.
Drip, drip, drip…
The love juice flowing like a spring from inside her thighs soaked my hand, leaving a sticky sensation clinging to my skin.
So a woman’s arousal fluid was viscous like semen too…
Simply being held by a man had sent her body into heat.
A perfectly broken fucktoy, remodeled in Cambodia.
I held her more firmly and continued up the stairs.
I was carrying a woman who was dripping with arousal and releasing pheromones in a princess carry.
On top of that, she had an exquisite face, was my stepsister, and was now fully a woman.
And she had returned from Cambodia after being remade into a cock sleeve.
Anyone who didn’t get hard would not be human.
I had to arch my hips backward so my erect cock wouldn’t press against her.
Because of that, her head lolled weakly against my shoulder.
Hot breath brushed against my neck.
“Minah… are you coming back to your senses?”
Her expression was still completely blank.
But her body was clearly reacting.
I could feel her heart racing beneath the soft, heavy breast pressed against my arm.
Her supple, weighty breasts deformed against my chest.
The liquid flowing between her legs began dripping onto the floor, forming small puddles.
Her body temperature felt far hotter than room temperature.
Ah… I’m so fucking turned on.
Shit.
The memory of Minah’s warm hand touching my cock back in the hospital room flashed through my mind.
Should I call that nurse possessed by the Lust Ghost and fuck her brains out?
I had saved her number.
Her name was Choi Sujin, right?
Her pussy hadn’t been bad.
I barely managed to regain my composure as I carried Minah into her bedroom.
I moved slowly toward the bed. One step. Then another.
She was completely limp in my arms, her legs dangling so her toes dragged along the floor.
When I finally laid her down on the bed, Minah slowly closed her eyes.
Gurgle…
The sound coming from her stomach broke the silence.
It was a sign of hunger.
— Her mind is unstable and her consciousness is barely holding on, so make sure to feed her porridge and don’t forget her medicine.
The doctor’s instructions came back to me.
“I’ll make some porridge, so stay put.”
I left the room and headed to the kitchen.
Cooking was one of my confident hobbies.
There was some abalone in the fridge that I had prepared for a diet meal.
I scooped rice cooked with premium Sindongjin grains into a pot and added a little water.
Using a wooden spatula, I stirred slowly, scraping the bottom.
I took my time so it wouldn’t stick.
When it came to a gentle boil, I added the abalone cut into easy-to-eat pieces.
A drop of sesame oil. A rich aroma bloomed instantly.
On top, a handful of finely chopped green onions, a pinch of toasted sesame seeds, and a drizzle of salty Japanese soy sauce I had imported.
The moment I took a spoonful and tasted it—
It was hot, soft, and melted smoothly down the throat.
“Perfect. This is top tier.”
I was carrying the abalone porridge back to her room on a tray when I had to stop in the hallway.
Through the slightly open door came the faint creak of bedsprings and labored breathing.
Creak. Creak.
“Haa… haa… haa…”
I held my breath and peered through the gap.
The patient gown now lay on the floor like shed skin.
Minah was completely naked.
One knee raised in an M-shape, she had shoved her right hand deep between her soaked thighs.
Squelch. Squelch. Slurp.
“Haa… mmm… hng…!”
The sound of her fingers mercilessly grinding her sensitive clit and roughly stirring inside her pussy filled the room.
Her eyes were tightly shut, beads of sweat forming on her skin. Her breasts heaved violently up and down as if they would burst.
She couldn’t forget my touch from the hospital. The moment she was left alone, instinct had taken over again.
Her secret valley glistened, completely drenched in her fluids.
Watching the overwhelmingly lewd sight, I gripped the tray so tightly my knuckles turned white.
“Fuck. This bitch… masturbating again?”
The doctor’s words echoed in my head once more.
— Even if she shows strange behavior, don’t interfere. Just watch.
Squelch squelch squelch.
The wet slapping of leather filled with liquid echoed through my sister’s room.
I quietly entered with the porridge, keeping my footsteps as silent as possible.
Her hand was now pressing harder and wider against her pubic mound.
Her discarded gown lay on the floor beneath the bed.
Completely naked, one knee raised, she slowly and carefully caressed her crotch.
Her fingers dug into her swollen clit and plump outer lips.
Her breathing had clearly grown heavier.
Her chest rose and fell irregularly.
Her eyes remained closed.
But the sweat on her forehead and nose glistened, and her lips trembled faintly.
She was masturbating purely by instinct.
Following the doctor’s advice, I didn’t stop her and simply watched quietly.
This was what the doctor had told me to do.
Chapter 1. My sister returned from Cambodia. The end.