An Office Worker Is Good At Exorcism - Chapter 237

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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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Chapter 236
Part 3. The Jangsan Tiger (3)
Vrooooom.
Friday afternoon arrived.
Kang Hyung-seok, now on the highway, reached for the tumbler wedged in the cup holder and took a sip of coffee.
This wasn’t a business trip.
I’d taken a half-day off, and when Gwak Young-ho asked where I was going somewhere nice, I’d said yes—but unfortunately, the reality was far different.
‘Busan, huh….’
It wasn’t a place I visited often.
It was too far, and I had no relatives or friends in the region.
It even felt like the far edge of the country you could drive to.
The navigation showed hundreds of kilometers remaining.
Kang Hyung-seok drove in a daze before letting out a deep sigh.
Grrrroooom.
With cruise control engaged, racing down the highway gave me the sensation of being completely detached from the world.
Tap, tap, tap.
Lost in thought, I tapped my index finger against the steering wheel and pulled up Kim Jae-sik from my contacts to call him.
Ring, ring, ring.
(Hey, Hyung-seok!)
Kim Jae-sik, my former professor and a folklorist, answered with warmth in his voice, and a subtle smile spread across my lips.
“Hello, Professor.”
(What’s the occasion? Taking a vacation?)
“Not a vacation. I have some business, so I’m heading to Busan for a bit.”
(Busan? My, you’re going far.)
“Yes, that’s how it turned out.”
(But is it company business? Or something else?)
Kim Jae-sik’s intuition was always sharp and keen.
I smiled bitterly, but kept it from showing in my voice as I answered.
“A Shaman I know asked me to go.”
(Then why didn’t you go together!)
“No, they said it would be better to go alone. And since I didn’t know what it was about, I felt awkward calling you, Professor.”
(What’s going on then?)
Kang Hyung-seok closed his lips for a moment, then opened them again.
“Dogs are dying in a remote village in Busan, apparently.”
(Dogs…? In Busan?)
“Yes.”
(That is strange. Do you have any suspicions?)
Perhaps it was because he was a folklorist.
Or perhaps he sensed something.
The warmth in Kim Jae-sik’s voice faded, replaced by the academic curiosity characteristic of a professor.
“It doesn’t seem to be the work of a human. It doesn’t feel like a simple vengeful spirit either.”
(It does remind me somewhat of that Imoogi incident from before.)
“Yes. But this time, I can’t even begin to guess what it might be.”
Perhaps Kim Jae-sik would know something about it.
That was when Kang Hyung-seok harbored such hope.
(In Busan, if it’s something famous among life-threatening entities…)
“Hold on a moment, Professor.”
Kang Hyung-seok, detecting the faint playfulness in his voice, was about to laugh and stop him, but Kim Jae-sik continued.
(The Jangsan Tiger, obviously.)
“Oh, Professor.”
(Hehehehe.)
A laugh mixing equal parts apology and jest spilled from the Bluetooth speaker.
The Jangsan Tiger.
A creature said to have been discovered on Jangsan Mountain in Busan—entirely white-furred and capable of mimicking human voices.
“But the Jangsan Tiger doesn’t exist.”
(Why not? There are eyewitness accounts and recorded footage, aren’t there?)
A low rumble echoed through.
They were discussing a yokai.
Yet the atmosphere didn’t grow heavy, remaining grounded in reality—perhaps because of the nature of the Jangsan Tiger itself.
“You know as well as I do, Professor. It all turned out to be a hoax.”
(I know, I know.)
The video supposedly showing the Jangsan Tiger had once spread across the internet.
However, not a single folklore professor took the footage seriously, and the provisional conclusion was that it had actually captured a hiker in white clothing.
(It does give off a vaguely traditional yokai feeling, but there’s not a single mention of the Jangsan Tiger in any historical texts.)
“Exactly. Its origins came from an internet post.”
(From the perspective of a yokai born in modern times, it’s quite interesting, but for people like us to take it seriously would be rather difficult.)
A yokai without roots, a mere oddity.
That was the position the Jangsan Tiger held in folklore studies.
To put it bluntly, it could be compared to entities like the Red Mask or the Hong Kong Grandmother.
(Anyway, it could be a wild animal, or its identity might be revealed in an unexpectedly mundane way. You’re heading down to Busan anyway, aren’t you? Think of it as a trip for sightseeing and get some proper rest while you’re there.)
“I wish that were the case.”
(Even the most beautiful mountain is best appreciated on a full stomach. The rest stop food these days isn’t half bad.)
Kim Jae-sik went on for a while praising rest stop cuisine.
Truth be told, it was somewhat tedious to listen to.
Still, since Kang Hyung-seok was in the middle of a long drive and this was his first conversation with Kim Jae-sik in a while, it didn’t feel uncomfortable to hear.
(Goodness, I’ve been talking about myself too much. Anyway, Hyung-seok, don’t push yourself too hard. And don’t get caught up in anything dangerous.)
“I understand.”
(You must be driving. I’ve talked your ear off. Give me a call when you’re done.)
Kang Hyung-seok answered with a smile that he would do so.
The call ended there.
A low rumble echoed through the silence.
Inside the car, now quiet again, I tried to focus on driving.
But it wasn’t easy.
There was nothing difficult about simply following the lane markings, yet a particular word kept circling through my mind.
‘Jangsan Tiger?’
A modern yokai with no origin, no source.
A creature with abundant white fur, blood-red eyes, and a dark face—one that mimics human voices to entrance its victims.
The image of it crouched upon a rock within a densely forested woodland kept flickering before my eyes.
A low rumble continued.
Even as these thoughts consumed me, the car carrying me pressed onward toward the south.
Toward Busan, where Jangsan lay.
***
“You will arrive at your destination shortly. Navigation complete.”
I reduced the car’s speed and surveyed the landscape visible through the windshield.
Low buildings, red brick, narrow streets.
It had the unmistakable feel of a rural area.
The sun was setting, casting a crimson glow across the earthen walls, and though the air was cool, something felt conspicuously absent.
‘…There are no dogs.’
One could dismiss this as mere prejudice.
Yet in a village this remote, I should expect to see at least one unleashed dog roaming about.
Not because they were kept loose by choice.
Abandoned dogs.
Dogs discarded by owners who had grown tired of keeping them but refused to bear the responsibility—such creatures were commonly abandoned in villages like this.
Yet not even a shadow of a dog appeared, making it viscerally clear that this was indeed a village where dogs were dying off.
The car came to a stop.
I parked in front of what appeared to be an unoccupied house and stepped out, grabbing my bag.
It was then.
“You’re the person the teacher sent, aren’t you?”
A voice called from behind me.
I turned to see an unfamiliar man fidgeting nervously.
“Pardon?”
“Aren’t you the one who came after receiving word from the teacher?”
I regarded the man silently.
He was perhaps five years my senior, his speech thick with regional dialect.
And he didn’t appear to be a shamanic practitioner.
“Which teacher are you referring to?”
When I asked with a guarded tone, the man’s expression grew even more flustered.
“Lee Geum-kyung… the teacher…? Aren’t you?”
“Ah.”
I relaxed my guard and nodded respectfully toward him.
“I came after receiving your call, sir.”
“Ah, phew.”
The man wiped his chest and extended his hand with a respectful demeanor.
“I’m Park Su.”
“Kang Hyung-seok. I’m your teacher’s disciple.”
Kang Hyung-seok shook his hand.
It was a hand covered in calluses.
“You’ve gone through considerable trouble traveling such a distance. Ah, and I’m someone who received help from Lee Geum-kyung in the past.”
Kang Hyung-seok smiled by merely lifting the corners of his mouth and nodded, while Park Su averted his gaze as if shy.
Despite his bear-like build, he gave off a distinctly reserved impression.
“Say, about food….”
“I took care of it roughly at a rest stop on the way.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Rather, isn’t there something you wanted to show me?”
Park Su’s expression stiffened in an instant.
I was familiar with it now.
That look in his eyes—how did you know?
Rustle.
Adjusting his bag, Kang Hyung-seok slowly circled the village once.
There was a smell.
A stale, beastly odor.
And mingled within it, a faint scent of blood and the stench of anguish.
“…It seems something other than dogs has died.”
Park Su’s gaze toward Kang Hyung-seok changed.
The shyness vanished.
Fear and reverence intertwined—the emotions one feels before a skilled shaman—took its place.
“Show me the way. Let’s look first and then talk.”
Gulp.
Park Su swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as he nodded heavily.
Then he began walking ahead.
Chirp, chirp.
As the sun descended, insects began their evening chorus.
Yet despite this, the village—devoid even of barking dogs—felt unnaturally quiet and profoundly unsettling.
Crunch, crunch.
Park Su, who had been walking down the ordinary rural path with grim determination, gradually moved toward the village’s outskirts.
He stopped before a small poultry farm at the mountain’s entrance, conveying his thoughts to Kang Hyung-seok through expression alone.
Check it yourself.
I don’t have the courage to go in there.
Creak.
Kang Hyung-seok retrieved the Shaman’s Bell from his bag and, passing Park Su, entered the poultry farm.
It happened immediately after.
Click.
Park Su flipped the switch from outside, illuminating the poultry farm, and I understood why he had hesitated to enter.
Warang, warang, warang, warang, warang.
The Shaman’s Bell began ringing on its own.
An overwhelming stench of blood assaulted my nostrils, and the poultry farm’s distinctive odor of chicken droppings choked my breath.
But it wasn’t just the smell suffocating me.
“What happened here?”
Park Su’s voice came from outside the poultry farm.
“They’re birds an acquaintance raises. When I checked this morning, they were like this.”
Gruesome.
Shattered chicken flesh, bones, and feathers scattered in every direction.
It resembled a hellish scene created by a deranged killer.
Thud.
Desiccated flesh fell from the ceiling onto the tip of my shoe.
As Kang Hyung-seok pressed his lips white, clenching his jaw against the stench emanating from the meat fragments, Park Su’s voice continued from outside.
“Strange, isn’t it? No one heard the chickens screaming.”
“What about the owner?”
“Pardon?”
“The Poultry Farm Owner. Is he safe?”
Kang Hyung-seok posed the question to Park Su standing beyond the door, and his answer came promptly.
“He, he stepped out for a moment.”
“Try contacting him first.”
“Yes, yes.”
The rustling sound of a phone being retrieved echoed briefly. In that interval, Kang Hyung-seok gazed upward at the interior of the poultry farm drenched in chicken blood.
‘This is not the work of a human.’
The ceiling height exceeded two meters by a considerable margin.
Upon observing the deep and distinct claw marks embedded in the wooden ceiling, Kang Hyung-seok unconsciously shook his head.
Then he discovered something resembling a white thread among the flesh and feathers clinging to the ceiling.
‘What is that…?’
Kang Hyung-seok reached up and plucked the white thread.
Squelch.
The white thread pulled free as if tearing from dried blood, and upon seeing what rested between his fingers, Kang Hyung-seok hastily shook his hand to dislodge it.
It was not thread.
It was fur.
White fur of a beast, pristine as fresh snow, emanating a putrid reek.

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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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