An Office Worker Is Good At Exorcism - Chapter 249

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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 248
Part 7. A Fate Decided from the Start (3)
Whoooosh.
Kang Hyung-seok entered the expressway in the late afternoon.
There had been much to do.
I had spoken with Park Su-il upon his return home, and climbed the mountain with him.
It was because of the missing Poultry Farm Owner.
Given the circumstances, it was certain he had fallen victim to the Jangsan Tiger, so I performed a ritual to appease his spirit.
In that moment, Park Su-il wept profusely.
Still, what consumed the most time was disposing of the Jangsan Tiger.
(So you scattered it in the sea?)
“Yes.”
Kang Hyung-seok answered with a tone of apology to Kim Jae-sik’s voice flowing from the vehicle’s Bluetooth speaker.
(Ugh, what a waste. Such a waste.)
“There was no other choice.”
(Tsk, and the White Tiger Scripture burned completely too?)
“…Yes.”
(Nooo!)
The anguish was so palpable in Kim Jae-sik’s voice that I could picture his expression.
A folklore professor.
For such a man to hear that the Jangsan Tiger’s corpse and the White Tiger Scripture had all burned—his heart must have been not merely aching but utterly devastated.
“I’m truly sorry, Professor. But there really was no way around it.”
(I know! I know! You wouldn’t do something like that without good reason.)
His words claimed understanding, but his tone said otherwise.
“…I’m sorry.”
(No, you have nothing to apologize for!)
“I really am sorry.”
(I said you don’t!)
“Um, Professor, you seem quite upset.”
(I’m not upset! I’m sad!)
There was such force behind his sadness that Kang Hyung-seok’s emotions became quite complicated.
(Well! So, did everything end well?)
“…Yes.”
(Then that’s that, I suppose…)
Whether it was resignation or acceptance, Kim Jae-sik’s voice grew quiet.
So Kang Hyung-seok was able to ease his awkward expression somewhat.
(Even if you burned it thoroughly, it must have been no small feat. From what you saw, there shouldn’t be any problems, right?)
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
Before scattering it in the sea, I had climbed the mountain.
I found a prayer site and offered sincere prayers, washing away the malevolence until I felt confident it was safe, only then releasing it into the sea.
If I hadn’t taken such measures, something would have surely gone wrong.
“It was an old fox, so I’ve certainly eliminated any potential problems.”
(Well, who are you to question it? You probably handled it well enough.)
“And regarding the White Tiger Scripture… I apologize.”
(No, it’s not that! I’m just disappointed. Honestly, I didn’t even know if it actually existed.)
Still, now that I know of it, the disappointment is unavoidable.
The White Tiger Scripture certainly possessed that much value.
Leaving aside matters of Taoism and mystical arts, if I’d managed to secure even the cover or a portion of the book, it would have held tremendous academic worth.
(But you coordinated with that Hong Kyung-soo person, didn’t you? What happened to him?)
“Nothing significant. Disturbingly so.”
(I did see him during the Imoogi incident before, but he didn’t leave a good impression.)
“However, his actions were suspicious.”
(His actions?)
As I faced off against the Jangsan Tiger, I recalled Hong Kyung-soo and drew a deep breath through my nose.
“It felt as though he was trying to silence the Jangsan Tiger’s mouth.”
As if he were trying to prevent the Jangsan Tiger from saying something.
With that impression, Hong Kyung-soo went so far as to tear out the Jangsan Tiger’s tongue.
(It’s probably just coincidence. Or perhaps there was some connection between Hong Kyung-soo and the Jangsan Tiger.)
“A connection?”
Between a human and a creature.
Could there be a relationship where the word “connection” fit less aptly?
(You said Hong Kyung-soo is a Shaman who deals with flesh, didn’t you?)
“Yes.”
(Might there have been some transaction between them, or did he receive help from the creature before?)
After thinking for a moment, I twisted my face into a bitter smile.
“That seems like too much of a stretch. There’s insufficient basis for such an assumption.”
(That’s true. But one’s thoughts should always remain open, shouldn’t they?)
A scholar’s mind cannot afford to be closed off.
It was something Kim Jae-sik had always emphasized since my university days.
(Keep all possibilities open in your thinking. You witnessed it directly, so you can get closer to the truth than I ever could.)
“…I wish that were the case.”
I lack conviction.
It’s precisely because I cannot fathom Hong Kyung-soo’s true intentions.
Since he’s not the type to provide answers even if asked directly, this frustration seemed destined to linger long.
(Anyway… I’m driving right now, aren’t I?)
“Yes.”
(How far have you come?)
I glanced at the navigation screen displayed on my phone and furrowed my brow.
“Still quite far. I’m only on the Gyeongbu Expressway now.”
(It’s quite a distance.)
“I should arrive sometime today.”
(But you’ll have to go back to work tomorrow, won’t you?)
Kang Hyung-seok laughed with a bittersweet sadness.
“Well, yes.”
He’d taken a half-day off on Friday afternoon and driven down to Busan, and now it was Sunday afternoon.
By the time he reached home, night would have fallen, and after washing and sleeping, a merciless Monday morning would come crashing down on him with wide-open eyes.
(Get some rest. Hyung-seok, I’m worried you’ll collapse.)
“I’m fine. I’ve grown accustomed to it by now.”
(You shouldn’t get used to things like that. There’s an order to coming, but no order to going. You’re going to commit a grave transgression.)
Kim Jae-sik’s counsel struck his heart with heavy weight.
He couldn’t even remember when he’d last rested properly.
(I know what kind of life you’re living. Most people struggle to manage one life properly, yet you’re living two simultaneously, and that’s how you wear yourself down and damage your body.)
“…Yes.”
(Make time to visit a hospital sometime. Or else, stop thinking about anything and just rest completely. I’m not joking—I’m genuinely afraid you’ll collapse.)
He was grateful it wasn’t a video call.
Kang Hyung-seok continued the conversation with Kim Jae-sik with such a sorrowful expression that he wrapped up the call.
“Then I’ll greet you again next time.”
(If possible, let’s move together next time. You know what I mean, right?)
“As long as it’s not dangerous work.”
(Right. Anyway, take care of your health!)
The call with Kim Jae-sik ended.
Perhaps it was because of Kim Jae-sik’s words about taking care of his health.
“Cough.”
A sudden cough rose in his throat, and he covered it with his sleeve, but unlike usual, it bothered him unusually.
***
“I see. You’ve worked hard. Very hard.”
Lee Geum-kyung was on a phone call at her Shamanic Temple.
The speaker was on, and though there were no customers, Chung-geum sat nearby.
Beep.
After ending the call, Lee Geum-kyung shook her head with a troubled expression.
“Didn’t everything end well?”
“It did. Seems he handled it better than expected.”
The call had been from Park Su-il.
The first person to report that dogs were dying in the village.
And he was also the victim who had been possessed after being bewitched by the Jangsan Tiger.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Lee Geum-kyung clicked her tongue with a bitter taste in her mouth, then plugged her phone into the charger.
“Excuse me, Master.”
“What is it?”
“Did you perhaps know beforehand?”
Chung-geum asked with great care and courtesy.
Lee Geum-kyung was a great shaman.
Since it was she who had sent Kang Hyung-seok to the village, wouldn’t it have been better to give more warning if she had known there would be danger?
That regret was woven into Chung-geum’s expression.
“I don’t know everything.”
“Pardon?”
Lee Geum-kyung furrowed her brow in thought.
“The deity that boy serves is so great that even I cannot know who they are. This matter was something that deity desired.”
Lee Geum-kyung had merely been a guide.
Like a shaman connecting the divine and the human, she had simply linked Kang Hyung-seok with that village.
“But Master, that is….”
“Beyond my hands.”
That Kang Hyung-seok and Hong Kyung-soo met.
That the Jangsan Tiger had to die there.
It was all predetermined from the beginning.
“It is a sorrowful thing. Not being able to fully understand the will of the divine.”
Lee Geum-kyung’s tone was calm, yet it captured Chung-geum’s attention.
Perhaps it was because a deep regret was heavily pressed into that voice.
“Master.”
“Hyung-seok will contact you later.”
It was something she could know not because she was a shaman, but because she had watched Kang Hyung-seok for so long.
Lee Geum-kyung shifted her gaze from her phone to Chung-geum, and continued speaking with her wrinkled lips.
“Tell him he’s worked hard, and prepare a gift to send to that boy.”
“A gift?”
“The weather grows cold. He always lives harder than others, and winter is coming soon—we should make sure he eats something good for his health.”
Like a grandmother caring for her grandson, a faint smile bloomed at the corners of Chung-geum’s lips.
“I understand.”
“You can send him home, or whenever he comes looking, you can hand him over then.”
“Yes.”
“Poor child. Such a poor child.”
No matter how great a god one receives, one remains human.
A person with emotions and a body will grow weary and crumble at times.
In the end, only other people can truly care for them in those moments.
“Are you perhaps worried about spiritual contamination?”
At Chung-geum’s question, Lee Geum-kyung raised her eyebrows and let out a hearty laugh.
“Spiritual contamination? Hardly.”
Given Kang Hyung-seok’s meticulous nature, he would have handled the aftermath thoroughly.
He would have naturally come into contact with the lingering malevolence, and while Chung-geum worried about this, such spiritual contamination simply could not occur.
“I told you. It was decided from the beginning.”
“…Ah.”
“That child’s patron spirit would never overlook something of that magnitude.”
“Yes.”
Chung-geum bowed her head in acknowledgment, and Lee Geum-kyung rubbed her eyes as though exhausted.
Then Chung-geum offered her a respectful bow before opening the door and stepping outside.
Left alone, Lee Geum-kyung removed her hand from her eyes and murmured softly.
“So much still remains to be done.”
Lee Geum-kyung had lived as a shaman from birth, though she was not part of the hereditary shaman tradition.
Her mother was also a shaman who received a god, which played a role in this.
But there was a greater reason.
She had heard that someone had left her with an instruction—that she must grow up this way.
I do not know that person’s name.
But I remember how my mother called them.
‘The National Shaman, or rather, the Grand National Shaman.’
A shaman who could determine the very fate of nations, and who had to determine it.
With such great responsibility, their life could not have been easy.
Though I never saw their face, I sensed that their destiny and Kang Hyung-seok’s destiny were similar—not fundamentally different.

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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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