An Office Worker Is Good At Exorcism - Chapter 293

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

Chapter 292
Part 1. I Am With You (1)
Wee-woo, wee-woo.
The ambulance’s red and blue lights rushed toward us from the distance.
Musicians stood anxiously with the Shaman on his back, while Kang Hyung-seok waved his hands frantically to signal our location.
Bang! Screech!
Stretchers and paramedics poured out, and the Shaman was loaded onto a wheeled gurney.
Still unconscious, his eyes rolled back, and flecks of blood foam clung to his lips.
“When he wakes up later, I’ll be sure to contact you right away.”
The way Musicians looked at Kang Hyung-seok had changed from before.
There was reverence in his gaze, and gratitude woven through it.
Kang Hyung-seok gestured for him to go quickly, and the ambulance doors shut. It made a sharp turn and rushed back the way it had come.
Watching the ambulance disappear into the distance, Kang Hyung-seok exhaled a long, heavy sigh.
‘This is suffocating.’
That Shaman was a genuine one.
He had been properly initiated into the faith, trained for years under a Shamanic Priestess, and had established himself independently.
Yet this is what happened to him.
All because of one ritual—just one ritual.
According to Musicians, the Shaman had come here with nothing but the intention to help the deceased, yet the price he paid was terrifyingly steep.
‘What is it? What exactly has entered this place?’
Swish.
Kang Hyung-seok turned his gaze toward the Mountain, pressing his lower lip against his upper teeth.
No one stood beside him.
He had descended the Mountain to send the unconscious Shaman to the Hospital, and Shin Yoseph, whose identity had been exposed, remained at the Mountain Cabin.
Alone in this cruel and terrifying night, left in a Mountain Cabin where a coffin holding a corpse lay sleeping.
Thud.
Kang Hyung-seok began walking toward the Mountain.
His gaze remained fixed on the Mountain Cabin.
His heart was turbulent.
***
Click.
Shin Yoseph closed the door behind him.
Inside the Mountain Cabin.
The interior was so dark that I couldn’t see even an inch ahead, reeking with a putrid stench, and death’s aura rippled through the air like waves.
Click.
I set a small portable lantern on the table and switched it on, yet the oppressive darkness that filled the space showed no sign of relenting.
The Polaroid photographs gleaming under the lantern’s light only deepened the sense of dread.
Clatter, clatter.
I opened the Kiln with the solemnity of conducting a sacred ritual.
I lit myrrh and placed it in the Kiln, let the silver cross hanging from my neck dangle below my Roman collar, and arranged my writing instruments and Bible on the table.
A Shaman had become a corpse.
That’s when I felt it.
‘The essence is exorcism, and this is the work of a Demon.’
To confront it, I need Kang Hyung-seok’s help.
But it is I who must face it.
Shin Yoseph opened his mouth, his eyes heavy with thought.
“Father who raised our Lord Jesus, spouse of the pure Virgin Mary and guardian of the dying, I earnestly beseech Saint Joseph.”
I gazed down at the coffin while reciting the Prayer of Saint Joseph’s Month.
“Intercede for us with God so that we may love Jesus and faithfully follow Him. And protect us at the hour of our death. Amen.”
Thud.
I lifted the Kiln, letting the myrrh smoke cascade over the coffin, then placed my hand upon the cross.
“Beast of Hell. Bow down in the name of the Lord. The Lord sees all things—He has witnessed your deeds, your wickedness, and your purpose.”
At that moment, the smoke covering the coffin lid trembled faintly.
“Are you female or male? What is your name, and what is your intention?”
Boom!
Suddenly the coffin lid lurched upward, scattering the myrrh smoke.
The Demon’s resistance.
The stench grew more acrid, constricting my throat and inducing dry heaves, clouding my mind.
But I spread more smoke to mask the reek, placed my palm upon the coffin, and spoke.
“Be sober and vigilant. Your adversary the Devil prowls about like a roaring Lion, seeking whom he may devour.”
Rattle, rattle.
I pressed my hand down on the coffin lid as it shook as though it might burst open at any moment, while my other hand gripped the cross at my chest.
“Strengthen your faith and resist the Demon. As you know, your brothers scattered throughout the world suffer the same affliction.”
Rattle! Crash! Crash!
I pressed down harder against the increasingly violent coffin lid and concluded the Scripture passage in rapid speech.
“He Himself will perfect you, strengthen you, establish you, and set you on a firm foundation.”
Amen.
Immediately after.
“Hrrrrgh…”
A murky voice emanated from within the coffin.
The sound was like air flowing through the lifeless vocal cords of a corpse.
Shin Yoseph’s face hardened, and immediately another voice followed.
“Why are you here?”
It was the voice of a young woman.
Shin Yoseph stared at the coffin without responding.
He couldn’t be certain whether this was a real sound or an auditory hallucination.
But one thing was unmistakable—this was the work of a Demon.
“Wicked Snake. Behold the cross of the Lord here. And the power of your enemies shall be cast down.”
“I asked why you are here.”
“The root of the Lion of David from the line of Judah has conquered.”
“That is not an answer to my question.”
The voice and language had changed.
At the sound of a Child Spirit’s voice, Shin Yoseph reached across the desk and grasped a writing instrument.
Then he rapidly recorded the Demon’s words.
Not a single detail could be missed.
The Demon was beginning to reveal its presence.
‘There must be a clue somewhere in all of this.’
Perhaps this was how one felt when facing a murderer trying to conceal their dark nature.
Shin Yoseph kept rubbing his increasingly dry mouth with his tongue, casting his gaze toward the coffin.
And then he saw it.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The coffin lid shaking from within as if being hammered.
The lid gradually opening, and the gap widening like an abyss of pure darkness.
A piercing wail erupted.
Swarms of flies poured forth from the coffin like a deluge, and the lantern’s flame began to flicker.
Shin Yoseph quickly shifted his gaze to the ceiling.
A rounded ball of light flickered, and with each pulse, a silhouette appeared and vanished like shadow play.
At first it was a single line.
Flicker! Flicker! Flicker!
The line became two, then gradually drew closer to each other until they merged into one.
Two lines crossing each other—so terribly familiar.
A cross.
‘What is this? What is happening?’
As confusion deepened, the lantern extinguished.
In an instant, heavy darkness enveloped the Mountain Cabin, obscuring his vision.
He couldn’t see even an inch ahead.
Yet Shin Yoseph could distinctly sense it.
…
Someone was nearby.
He could feel a presence.
Shin Yoseph swallowed hard, his movements sluggish as he approached the wall.
‘The camera, there was a camera.’
Somewhere nearby lay the old Polaroid camera the deceased had used.
Click.
The moment his fingertips touched the camera, Shin Yoseph grasped it firmly and felt out its shape with trembling hands.
Then he aimed the lens toward where the coffin lay and pressed the shutter.
Pop!
A flash of light flickered, illuminating the area around the coffin.
The coffin lid hung open, and before it stood a pitch-black silhouette.
Whirr.
The Polaroid camera ejected a photograph, as if there was still film remaining.
Catching it in his palm so it wouldn’t fall, Shin Yoseph continued pressing the camera’s shutter.
Pop! Whirr.
Now I could make it out.
A man.
Someone oddly familiar stood with his back turned.
Pop! Whirr.
This time I saw countless hands stretching out from within the coffin.
Pop! Whirr.
The hands seized the man’s garment,
Pop! Whirr.
and dragged him into the coffin.
Shin Yoseph lowered the camera from his eyes, exhaling breath that had turned white and cold.
For some reason, his face was contorted like that of someone who had witnessed something utterly hopeless.
***
Crunch, crunch, crunch!
As I hurried up the mountain, I quickly pulled out my phone.
Zing!
The phone was ringing, urging me to answer.
It wasn’t a saved contact—just a number displayed—but I didn’t hesitate to press the call button.
Thwack!
I blocked away a dry branch that seemed to lunge at me, bringing the phone to my ear, and immediately heard the voice I’d been desperately hoping for.
(Hello?)
The voice was murky, as if clogged with phlegm, but it was unmistakably the Shaman who’d been rushed away in an ambulance.
“Are you conscious now?”
(Yes, yes. I’m alive thanks to you.)
It was good news, but not what I truly needed to hear.
Creak!
A frost-covered rock tried to trip me, and I quickly grabbed a tree to keep from falling, staggering up the mountain.
“Why were you trying to perform a ritual there?”
The question I would have asked immediately if consciousness had allowed it.
Now that I was finally asking it, I desperately hoped the Shaman would give me a clue.
(There was a request.)
“A request?”
(Yes. Someone kept appearing in my dreams. A man in black clothing.)
It didn’t seem like the Shaman was in a condition to be talking on the phone.
As the words continued, the voice grew weaker, and I could hear medical staff nearby shouting, “Hang up the phone!”
But the voice on the other end kept speaking, and I held the phone tight against my ear, determined not to miss a single word.
(He kept appearing in my dreams, saying he needed help, that there was someone who needed help, that a shamanic practitioner was necessary.)
A sudden realization struck me, and I unconsciously stopped walking.
Then, looking at the distant mountain cabin, I spoke.
“Did that person happen to have something white around the neck area?”
(Yes. Now that I think about it, I believe he was a priest.)
There was one corpse in the coffin.
But there were two spirits.
Now I finally understood who it was, and I swallowed hard, tasting blood.
“Please focus on your treatment for now, and contact me later.”
(Stay safe.)
Beep.
After ending the call, I squeezed every ounce of strength from my body and ran toward the mountain cabin.
“Shin Yoseph!”
My voice echoed through the quiet mountain like thunder, and the sound of dry leaves crunching followed me like a shadow.
My heart felt like it would burst.
But I had to reach Shin Yoseph immediately.
This wasn’t something I could handle alone.
“Shin Yoseph!”
Arriving at the Mountain Cabin with a shout that tore through his throat, he shoved the door open with his shoulder.
Shin Yoseph, who had been holding a camera, turned to him with a startled expression, and Kang Hyung-seok grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out.
Bang!
The moment they escaped, the door slammed shut on its own, and the foul stench from inside the cabin vanished.
Kang Hyung-seok, sensing what this meant, twisted his lips as he stared at the door.
Someone was helping them.
There was someone struggling to resolve this situation before Kang Hyung-seok and Shin Yoseph could.
Whoooosh.
A damp wind blew past.
When Kang Hyung-seok shifted his gaze to Shin Yoseph, he was holding a Polaroid photograph up to the moonlight.
Kang Hyung-seok, who had been silently watching him, turned his gaze elsewhere.
It was because Shin Yoseph was soundlessly murmuring someone’s name after examining the photograph.
Father Leo.
The black silhouette captured in the photograph, the spirit within the coffin, and the Victim Spirit who had appeared in the Shaman’s dream to request help.

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