“Christ, at my age I nearly shit myself.”
Lee Youngshin flicked the water from his hands and let out a long whistle of relief. If he’d been even a little later, it would have been a disaster. Having fought one savage battle and emerged from the restroom victorious, he wore a deeply satisfied smile.
At last, peace.
Only then did the smell of rest-stop food reach him.
If you emptied yourself out, it was only proper to fill back up again.
“I wonder what our little master likes.”
Humming the now-overfamiliar melody of Ponyo, Lee Youngshin loitered near the snack counter. Since he was at a rest stop anyway, he figured he might as well bring back something light to eat. After standing there for quite a while, wavering between the options, he finally bought a cup of buttered baby potatoes and two sausage skewers and headed back to the car.
He could see the little master through the window. With his head hanging so low, Youngshin assumed he must have fallen asleep. He reached for the driver’s-side handle without thinking, then muttered, “Oops,” and pressed his palm flat against the car. The door opened easily.
“Little master, I’m back. You waited for me, right?”
Sliding into the driver’s seat, he shook the bag of food. The enclosed car quickly filled with the warm, appetizing smell. The little master, who had been sitting with his head bowed, slowly lifted it.
Still rummaging through the potatoes, Youngshin speared the fattest one he could find with a plastic fork and held it out to Mesan.
“Ta-da. If you stop at a rest area, you have to get the little pota—”
He froze.
“L-Little master! What’s wrong?!”
The instant he saw that face soaked in tears, Lee Youngshin panicked so badly he nearly dropped the potato. He hastily set it down. He reached to wipe the tears away, but the little master flinched from his hand and whipped his head aside. Looking stricken, Youngshin asked,
“Little master, why are you crying? Hm? What happened?”
“Hic...”
“Were you scared because you were all alone? Hm?”
“N-no... it’s nothing...”
Mesan answered in a trembling voice.
“What do you mean it’s nothing? Tell me, hm?”
“I-I’m just not feeling well, so p-please don’t worry about me. Hic.”
Youngshin’s face turned grave at once.
“You’re not feeling well? Where does it hurt?”
“It’s just... my h-head hurts, and I feel d-dizzy.”
“Your head? Why would your head suddenly—”
“The mountain...”
Sniffling, Mesan answered in a tiny voice.
“I think it’s because I’m far away from the mountain...”
“The mountain?”
Youngshin echoed him, as though asking what on earth he meant.
“If I stay away from the mountain too long, my strength gets weaker...”
At some point, something in Lee Youngshin’s gaze sharpened. It was something he had already learned in the course of his investigation.
But he had only been away from the mountain for half a day.
“What do you mean by that? Tell me exactly.”
Mesan said weakly,
“And if I run out of the mountain’s spiritual force... I die.”
Die?
Youngshin started. That part he hadn’t known.
“So I have to take in the mountain’s spiritual force ahead of time and store it up, but t-today I didn’t know I’d be coming this far, so I didn’t think about it, and I only gathered as much as I usually do, and now that I’m this far from the mountain...”
Mesan could not finish. Even speaking seemed to cost him too much. His eyes fluttered heavily.
Lee Youngshin’s brows twitched with an odd expression.
Then Mesan suddenly gave a small cry and clutched his head.
“Little master, are you okay?!”
Youngshin shouted in alarm.
Mesan’s eyelids trembled.
“M-Mr. Youngshin... if my strength runs out b-before I can even see my lord in S-Seoul...”
That thin little voice sounded unbearably frail, as though he were leaving his final words behind before death.
Listening in silence, Lee Youngshin felt genuine fear seize him. He cut off Mesan’s words before they could become a last testament.
“That won’t happen. Don’t worry.”
As he spoke, he started the car with calm hands.
“We just need to get to the nearest mountain first, little master.”
*****
“I’ll give you time, so think it over.”
With those words, Yoon Taehee left the wrecked bookstore behind.
Jaegyeom stayed rooted to the spot, watching that solid back recede into the distance.
If he could have, he would have butchered him where he stood.
Unfortunately, there were far too many eyes around. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, the sight of a bookstore in shambles seemed to be irresistible entertainment. As time passed, more and more people kept peering inside.
The helplessness sinking into his bones was so crushing that Jaegyeom could not move for a long time after Taehee had gone.
He had thought there was nothing left to lose.
For the first time in a very long while, Jaegyeom felt truly miserable.
He had thought this was the bottom.
There had still been farther to fall.
When he finally left the bookstore, he moved like a balloon that had gone completely flat.
He wanted to protect Jeongju’s life.
He wanted Jeongju to keep living, forever if possible, as nothing more than a “normal celebrity.”
Yoon Taehee seemed to think Jeongju was merely gifted.
That much was fortunate.
And in itself, a kind of misfortune.
Not the worst outcome.
Just something close to second-worst.
More than enough to ruin Jeongju’s life.
“Believe me when I tell you to be careful. That world is full of Naja.”
“If they find out a celebrity is gifted, they’ll try to use him one way or another.”
“I may not look like much, but my rank’s pretty high. If it were me, I could protect him.”
The fact that Yoon Taehee, of all people, claimed he could protect Jeongju would have been laughable if it hadn’t been so obscene.
What Taehee meant was clear enough.
He meant he could pull strings inside the Office of Narye.
From within.
That was a realm entirely outside Jaegyeom’s reach.
What Jaegyeom himself could do was not protect Jeongju.
At best, he could keep himself from destroying him.
And even that, only if he became a Naja himself.
If I became a Naja...?
On the bus ride home, Jaegyeom got carsick for the first time in his life.
His head swam.
After getting off the bus, he walked with his head bowed low, dragging his feet. Once he passed the little shop where he and Mesan had bought ice cream together, the pavement ended abruptly. He kept climbing the uneven mountain path, and then, all at once, he looked up.
“......”
His steps stopped dead.
At the far end of the mountain path stood a gate he knew all too well.
At that moment, something strange ran down his spine.
The orange gate was standing wide open.
Whenever Mesan went wandering down the slope, he climbed over the wall.
That gate should not have been open.
The only people who could open a gate with a barrier set on it were the one who had cast it—Jaegyeom—and Jeongju.
His pace quickened.
By the time he neared the gate, he was almost running.
Bursting into the yard, Jaegyeom hurriedly swept his gaze across it.
There was no sign of anyone there. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
His eyes moving restlessly, he yanked the front door open at once.
The premonition whispering please no was unbearable.
“Mesan!”
That was when he stepped inside without even taking off his shoes—
and recoiled at the sight before him.
The house was a wreck.
It looked as if thieves had torn through it. Everything had been overturned. Furniture and household things lay strewn everywhere in chaos.
“What the...?”
The strength drained out of his entire body.
It felt # Nоvеlight # as though his blood were surging backward through him.
Someone had come in.
Into this house.
Someone he had never invited.
His legs trembling, Jaegyeom barely managed to make it as far as the living room before dropping to his knees on the floor.
When he lowered his eyes, he saw them—
countless shoe prints left behind across the floor.
There was no way to tell whose they were.
But one thing was certain.
They were not Mesan’s.
Barefoot again. After everything I told you.
“......”
His head bowed as if in silent mourning, and he could not finish the thought.
For a very long time, Jaegyeom remained kneeling exactly like that.
At last, he raised his head.
His face was expressionless, as though nothing at all had happened.
Today had been one long day of shock.
And now, in the middle of that ruined day, came the calmest moment of all.
Naja.
Teacher.
Enemy.
Betrayal.
Threats.
Yoon Taehee.
Jeongju.
None of it stirred any thought in him anymore.
None of it mattered.
He did not want to think about anything now.
His mind was simply clear.
Every thought inside it had gone razor-sharp.
Sunset bled in through the living-room window.
Jaegyeom rose slowly to his feet.
“Where are you...?”
Ghostly force flashed through his eyes like lightning.
*****
After leaving the bookstore in ruins, Yoon Taehee looked down at his phone and crooked one eyebrow.
His face remained blank, but the hand scrolling the screen carried a distinct air of annoyance.
He had wondered who could possibly be calling him with such feverish devotion. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
The answer was almost spectacular.
The call log was packed solid with a single name.
Lee Youngshin.
Lee Youngshin.
Lee Youngshin.
Lee Youngshin.
There were dozens of missed calls, one every three minutes.
What on earth had happened?
He was staring at the screen with mild indifference when the phone began vibrating again.
Taehee, standing there in the street, raised it obediently to his ear.
“Hey, Yoon Taehee—!”
The instant the call connected, a scream sharp enough to make the back of his head ring came blasting through the speaker.
Taehee reflexively turned his head and pulled the phone away before murmuring in a flat voice,
“Youngshin, you’re blowing out my eardrum.”
Lee Youngshin wailed miserably.
“Why weren’t you answering your phone?!”
“I was busy.”
Taehee answered lightly.
“You—where are you right now? Huh?!”
“Me? Let’s see, where am I...”
Compared with Youngshin, who sounded so agitated he could hardly string his words together, Taehee remained maddeningly calm. He glanced around at his surroundings with an unbothered face, then answered with deliberate helpfulness.
“Out on the street.”
“......”
Youngshin went silent for a second.
Then he made a series of strange, choking noises and broke into sniffling. He was saying something in machine-gun bursts, but the words were so scrambled they were almost impossible to follow.
“Youngshin, slow down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“It’s bad— hngh— it’s really bad— the little master— something’s wrong—”
Lee Youngshin was often sloppy in everyday life, but he was still a chief Naja, and when it came to work he was a professional.
He had been laying plans to bring in the ginseng child for days.
But judging by how thoroughly he had lost his composure, something had clearly gone wrong.
“H-help me, Chief Yoon. I’m— I’m at...”
“What do you mean, something’s wrong with the little master?”
At the trembling voice, Yoon Taehee asked quietly.
“He won’t move...”
Taehee’s eyes narrowed.