1440 - Chapter 50

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 50
By now, even the man’s handwriting—once crooked and uneven—had settled into neat, measured strokes. Recognizing his quick aptitude for learning, Yeon-su caught himself about to reach over and ruffle that round head of his, and only just managed to bite his hand instead. With his head bowed, the soft curve of his cheek tilted slightly downward was almost unbearably endearing.
Before he lost his composure entirely and buried his hands in that hair, Yeon-su hurried from the room. As he climbed the stairs toward the Spirit Hall on the second floor, he asked:
“An apology? What could possibly be wrong that you’d say something like that? What is it?”
The moment Yeon-su closed the door behind him and stepped into the Spirit Hall, Sang-hyeong—who had been hesitating until then—continued.
“Remember that doctor who helped us with the death certificate before? Kim Tae-gon?”
“Yes, I remember. …Oh.”
The instant he conjured up the man’s name and face, Yeon-su’s vision went black. As if a dark cloth had been thrown over his eyes, everything was suffocatingly opaque—a profound darkness where he couldn’t see even an inch ahead.
This was the Vision of the Dead. A sight where nothing is visible, where the dead move only toward the sound of the mourning wails that call to them.
Sang-hyeong, realizing through the phone that Yeon-su had sensed Kim Tae-gon’s death, let out a long sigh on the other end of the line.
Pulled back to reality, Yeon-su pressed his feet firmly down against the floor, verifying that he was standing solid in the waking world. It was a ritual of grounding.
“But…sir. This person’s energy isn’t right. This wasn’t a natural death, was it?”
When he’d glimpsed the dead man’s vision just now, there had been something strange mixed in among the mourners’ cries.
A small, delighted chuckle. And a strange, slick sensation wrapping around the cheek.
“Right. I’m about to head to the funeral hall now, and I was hoping you’d come with me, young master.”
For Sang-hyeong to ask this of him meant there was definitely something amiss with Kim Tae-gon’s death. Yeon-su pressed his palms repeatedly against the goosebumps rising on his skin, trying to smooth them away.
The energy Yeon-su had read was equally unsettling. This had been a man he’d shared a brief but intense connection with. The abnormality of his death was something even a distance away could not conceal.
“Yes. I’ll prepare and come right away. Send me the address.”
“Thank you, thank you so much, young master!”
Sang-hyeong bowed repeatedly over the phone and hurried to end the call. Yeon-su confirmed the address from the text that came through immediately after, then gathered his ritual implements.
Usually, a Rite for the Dead required only the bell and the fan, but today his Long Sword kept drawing his eye. He felt certain he needed to bring it along.
As always, he gathered the Shaman’s Fan and the Long Sword, and this time also retrieved the Bell. Adding the Talismanic Paper and Mirror Cinnabar to the bundle, he soon had quite an armful.
Coming down to the first floor with all of it, he found the man waiting for him at the base of the stairs.
48
By now, the man moved freely throughout the Separate Quarters, and when Yeon-su was away, he would even prepare simple meals for himself. Watching him grow increasingly human these days had become Yeon-su’s one small joy.
The man looked at Yeon-su’s tightly bundled load and asked:
“Where are you going?”
“To the funeral hall of someone I know. He wasn’t one destined for a short life, but it appears he fell to a Sudden Violent Death, so I should go and examine the matter.”
“Your wound? You’re saying you, who were not in good health mere days ago, are going to the funeral of one who died from Sudden Violent Death?”
“I’m fully recovered now. You of all people should know that best, shouldn’t you?”
It was a pointed remark—how could he not see that Yeon-su was healed, when he could read energy? But rather than answer, the man reached up and began to feel along Yeon-su’s body.
He traced across his ribcage front and back, his fingers lingering over the ribs beneath the external oblique muscles.
“Mm…”
Those slender hands slipped beneath his suit jacket, fingers working across his shirt, and though Yeon-su knew there was no ill intent behind it, he felt something stir nonetheless.
This wouldn’t do. Yeon-su struggled to collect himself, forcing a proper smile.
“I’ll be back shortly, so please don’t worry too much.”
The man’s expression remained distinctly unsatisfied. It struck Yeon-su as remarkable that he could make such faces now.
Unaware of the way Yeon-su was looking at him, the man held onto his jacket for a long time before finally releasing him.
“Yes. I pray you return safely.”
Then he placed his hand over the Long Sword at Yeon-su’s waist. With luminous fingertips, he spent a long time stroking from the hilt to the very end of the scabbard. Urging caution once more, he squeezed Yeon-su’s hand firmly.
Yeon-su drew that hand to him and brushed his lips against each knuckle. It still wasn’t enough—childish thoughts of not wanting to leave filled his mind. With difficulty, he finally took his leave from the man and stepped out of the Separate Quarters.
The address Sang-hyeong had sent led him to Hongcheon’s largest university hospital. The Hongcheon University Hospital where Kim Tae-gon had worked was now home to his funeral hall.
Getting out of the car and adjusting his clothes, Yeon-su debated whether to bring his ritual implements, then settled on tucking only a single Amulet for clarifying the spiritual sight into his jacket pocket.
As he locked the car door, his phone rang—Sang-hyeong calling.
“Hey, young master. Did you arrive?”
“Yes, just now. I’m about to go in. Where are you?”
“Traffic’s holding me up, I’m afraid. I’m pushing as hard as I can.”
“Don’t push—take your time getting here. I’ll go in and come back out.”
Yeon-su ended the call and entered the funeral hall building. He made his way through the basement halls of the hospital to the innermost funeral chamber—the Funeral Hall.
He didn’t even need to check the nameplate. The wreaths sent by Kim Tae-gon’s colleagues lined the way like signposts.
The brief time they’d met, he’d formed the impression of a genuinely cheerful man, and it seemed that held true in his professional life as well—wreaths bearing sincere words of condolence stretched endlessly before him.
Though the Funeral Hall was spacious, there were so many visitors that shoes were packed thick even outside the entrance. Yeon-su too had to leave his at the threshold before entering.
He signed the guest book, offered his condolences, bowed to the deceased, paid his respects to the chief mourners, then stood discreetly for only as long as decorum demanded before slipping back outside. He couldn’t even manage a spoonful of the oxtail soup.
As Yeon-su emerged from the Funeral Hall, Sang-hyeong arrived. Spotting him, Yeon-su gave a subtle nod toward the entrance, silently telling him to go ahead. Then he slipped down the corridor and settled onto a bench positioned well away from the hall.
“Ugh…”
Yeon-su’s already pale face had gone even paler. As he exhaled the breath he’d been holding to calm his unsettled stomach, Sang-hyeong emerged from the hall, having finished his condolences in record time, and came to sit beside him.
“Young master. How is it? Do you sense anything?”
At that, Yeon-su’s brow furrowed deeply, as if tasting something bitter, and he opened his mouth.
“…A fish-like stench. So thick and cloying I could barely breathe. And the corpse itself—it’s not right, is it?”
It was phrased as a question, but spoken with absolute certainty. Sang-hyeong shuddered visibly and nodded.
“Right. That’s exactly why I called you here. I haven’t introduced you to the bereaved family yet.”
“I see.”
“Then let’s go in together. There’s something you need to look at.”
“Ah…….”
Yeon-su brushed the wrinkles from his trousers and stood. His stomach turned at the thought of it.
At least a water ghost is better than a mountain ghost, he told himself, and called to mind the last image he’d seen of Kim Tae-gon.
The face of a middle-aged man who’d been summoned in the dead of night and yet had laughed mischievously, saying he’d never expected his life to contain such an event.
Yeon-su pressed his tongue against the bitter taste in his mouth and followed Sang-hyeong.
The Chief Mourner—the eldest of the bereaved family, the one bearing responsibility for the funeral—had been waiting for them as if he’d known they would come. He led both Sang-hyeong and Yeon-su toward the Mortuary Room.
As they walked deeper into the Mortuary Room, the stench grew sharper. It was no mere fishy smell. This was the reek of rotting water.
The thought that the deceased had met his end at the Reservoir flashed across his mind. In that moment, a fragmentary vision materialized before his eyes.
The red siren of an ambulance.
The frantic movements of paramedics.
A young man coughing up water, consciousness returning in gasps.
And for reasons he couldn’t fathom, Kim Tae-gon standing beside him.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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