An Office Worker Is Good At Exorcism - Chapter 362

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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 362
Part 2. You Cannot Make Us Yield (2)
Click, click, click.
A lantern that refused to function.
Damp, stagnant air.
Darkness that pressed in ever more densely.
A silence so profound I could hear not just breathing but the very pulse of blood through veins.
Instinctive revulsion.
Every condition was met to seal one’s lips and freeze one’s feet in place.
A heavy footfall.
Yet the two of us pressed forward.
Whoosh! Click-click, crackle!
As Shin Yoseph ignited his lighter, the surroundings bloomed in a faint, reddish glow.
For some reason, the air flowed outward from within rather than inward.
The flickering flame cast wild, dancing shadows, and a biting chill that no lighter’s warmth could dispel crept in relentlessly.
“Haaaa…”
My breath crystallized into white vapor as I exhaled.
A soft metallic clink.
Shin Yoseph withdrew the silver cross from around his neck, gripping it in his other hand as he slowly began to speak.
“Archangel Saint Michael, illuminate us with your light.”
White mist curled from Shin Yoseph’s lips as he recited the prayer.
“Archangel Saint Michael, shield us with your wings.”
I stowed the lantern in my bag and drew the Shinjanggal blade, while Shin Yoseph’s prayer clung to my back like a guardian presence.
“Archangel Saint Michael, receive us with your sword.”
Everything was oppressive, ominous, viscous, and repugnant.
With each step deeper, it felt as though I were sinking into a bottomless mire, yet Shin Yoseph’s prayer alone conveyed a warmth of hope to my heart.
“Leader of the heavenly host and conqueror of the vile Dragon, Archangel Saint Michael, through your humility God has granted you the power and strength to vanquish the insolence of the dark powers.”
Flap, flap!
The wind rushing from within made the lighter’s flame flutter wildly.
As I continued forward, I glanced back and realized the bright light of the entrance was no longer visible.
It was hardly surprising.
“Now we beseech you, grant us true humility of heart, unwavering faith in the Holy Church, and strength amid sorrow and calamity.”
We were descending ever deeper into this vast Abandoned Mine.
The passage was not a straight line, so it was natural the light had vanished, yet an ominous premonition seized me—that we would never emerge into the world above again.
“And protect us so that we may stand safe before God’s judgment.”
Setting aside all matters of faith, I pressed onward into the depths, clinging to the hope that Shin Yoseph’s prayer would be answered.
Then I stopped.
“The path slopes downward.”
I turned back, my gaze warning him as shadows stretched along the descending slope.
Then I began to walk carefully down the incline.
Crunch, crunch.
As I continued deeper into the darkness, dread and revulsion coiled around my thoughts.
It was far too narrow.
Even for an abandoned mine supposedly under development, this felt impossibly cramped.
What unsettled me most was the complete absence of coal dust—not even a hint of it.
Around my hand touching the ceiling, many-legged insects writhed past in the gloom.
Then the descending passage ended, and two diverging paths opened before us.
“Should we split up?”
At Shin Yoseph’s question, I shook my head.
Then I raised the spirit blade and spoke.
“Whoever dwells within—who are you?”
I called out into the suffocating darkness, and Shin Yoseph’s brow furrowed.
But I did not stop.
“Since I have summoned you, come forth to meet us.”
Whoooosh.
The direction of the wind shifted.
From outside to in, then from within to out again.
As if the abandoned mine itself were alive—breathing.
“If you will not answer, we shall find you ourselves. Do not obstruct us.”
I hurled the spirit blade skyward in a spinning arc.
Clang! Ting, clang.
The blade bounced across the floor several times before pointing in a single direction.
To the right.
Whoosh.
I retrieved the spirit blade and signaled Shin Yoseph to follow, then turned rightward.
With each step, the certainty that we were on the correct path struck my mind like a violent blow.
Shin Yoseph had ceased his prayers, his lips twisted in a grimace, while I exhaled frosted breath with eyes equally grim.
There was a smell.
Not the scent of damp or humid air.
A stench that should never exist in an abandoned mine like this.
The smell of something burned.
The reek of sulfurous flame.
Ding.
As the Shaman’s Bell chimed, I halted.
Ding, ding, ding.
Following the current of air, the Shaman’s Bell continued its song, and I swallowed silently, surveying our surroundings.
Behind me, Shin Yoseph slowly raised a lighter, letting its glow spread into the distance.
As shadows lengthened and intense contrasts of light and dark bore down upon us, I shook the Shaman’s Bell.
But it made no sound.
As if someone had seized it in their grip.
“…Spirits of heaven and earth, wandering ghosts, ancestors of old, wandering ghosts, great-grandparents, wandering ghosts.”
Kang Hyung-seok chanted the incantation while gazing at the Shaman’s Bell.
He attempted to lower his hand, but one of the Shaman’s Bells stretched unnaturally, as if suspended in mid-air.
It appeared as though an invisible presence gripped the bell.
“Damn it.”
Shin Yoseph muttered in a groan, his grip tightening around the cross.
“From the depths of the abyss, I cry out to You, Lord.”
Shin Yoseph opened the holy water vessel and traced the sign of the cross with his fingertip dampened in the sacred liquid.
“Parents and siblings, wandering ghosts, cousins near and far, wandering ghosts, blood relatives and distant kin, wandering ghosts, those who met untimely deaths, wandering ghosts.”
“Lord, hear my voice. Incline Your ear to my desperate plea.”
“Distant cousins and kinfolk, wandering ghosts, original bloodline and adopted bloodline, wandering ghosts, those who perished by violence, wandering ghosts.”
“Lord, if You were to reckon our sins, who could stand?”
That was when it happened.
A sharp ring.
The Shaman’s Bell suspended in the air came loose, and Shin Yoseph’s mouth fell silent.
A hand rested upon his shoulder.
“…You are merciful.”
“People shall fear You.”
It was not Father Leo’s voice.
Far deeper, laced with mockery.
Flicker, flicker.
The flame from the lighter in his hand writhed like a soul cast into hell.
Then it extinguished.
“I wait for the Lord.”
Though absolute darkness engulfed the surroundings, Shin Yoseph continued reciting scripture.
“My soul waits for the Lord, and in His word I place my hope.”
A resounding clang!
In the darkness, the sound of Kang Hyung-seok shaking the Shaman’s Bell echoed, and Shin Yoseph struck the flint of his lighter, but no spark ignited.
The stench of sulfur grew increasingly thick.
“More than watchmen waiting for the dawn, my soul longs for the Lord.”
Scrape, scrape, scrape!
Kang Hyung-seok dragged a blade against the wall, producing a small spark that briefly illuminated the surroundings.
In that instant, both men saw it.
A beast standing on two legs between Shin Yoseph and Kang Hyung-seok.
It had an elongated snout, bat-like wings, and a long tail beneath them.
Shin Yoseph knew the name of this creature.
“Dragon.”
The Western dragon and symbol of evil.
Not a possessed person, but the demon itself.
“Kang Hyung-seok!”
A resonant chiming sound!
Kang Hyung-seok answered the call with Shaman’s Bell and began reciting the incantation he had been contemplating.
“The Celestial Worthy of Thunder and Precious Light, who responds to the nine heavens, having bestowed the offering prayer, grants understanding of the Six Paths and Three Strategies, the harmony of wind and clouds, and all matters of life and death, fortune and misfortune, blessing and geography for all men and women.”
The Palmun Scripture of Golden Talismans.
“Mighty Divine General of Heaven and Earth, descend upon us now!”
A resonant chiming sound!
Kang Hyung-seok shook Shaman’s Bell and scraped the wall again with his divine general’s blade.
Sparks scattered across the stone.
A small spark flickered—I wished I could believe it was merely a hallucination—yet the beast’s form remained before Father Leo.
“The eastern trigram of true harmony is transferred to the south, and the southern trigram of separated emptiness is transferred to the west.”
My urgency quickened the pace of the incantation pouring from my lips.
Each time I paused to catch my breath, I scraped the wall with my divine general’s blade, and each spark briefly illuminated the demon’s form.
With each flash, the demon’s head turned.
Toward me.
Slowly, but unmistakably.
“The northern trigram of sensation is exchanged to the northwest, and the northwestern trigram of heaven is exchanged to the southwest.”
I knew.
The incantations were not working.
But with nothing else to do, I could only continue reciting the scripture.
“The southwestern trigram of earth is exchanged to the east, and the eastern trigram of wind is exchanged to the northeast.”
Sparks scattered across the stone.
Now the demon had turned its head completely, and our eyes met.
Without even scraping the wall again, my eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to perceive its form.
Those glowing crimson eyes staring directly at me.
“Hgh, hgh!”
Father Leo, gasping with trembling breath, tried to raise his cross, but cold, rigid hands blocked him.
“Ignatius.”
The demon’s voice, heavy with labored breathing, echoed through the Abandoned Mine.
Father Leo’s face hardened at a demon that even knew his baptismal name, and the demon’s voice continued.
“Father Leo walks with you.”
The demon’s voice shifted with each syllable.
From beast to human, from male to female, from grotesque to gentle.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Matthew 11:28.
A verse spewed from the demon’s mouth.
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
And the verse that followed was Isaiah 41:10.
The voice was so soft and warm that it weakened the listener’s resolve.
And so Father Leo felt both primal terror and revulsion simultaneously.
The demon wore the guise of an angel, desecrating God’s word.
Whirring, whirring, whirring.
The Shaman’s Bell vibrated with a resonant hum.
Kang Hyung-seok’s gaze shifted toward it, and Shin Yoseph attempted to turn his attention in the same direction.
Yet the Demon’s palm swept gently across his cheek, drawing his focus back, while Kang Hyung-seok stared at the Shaman’s Bell with an intensity bordering on ferocity and gripped it with all his might.
His desperation to escape this seemingly inescapable situation hung suspended at his fingertips.
“Do not fear. Behold, I bring you tidings of great joy that shall come to all people.”
For reasons I could not fathom, the darkness deepened with each passing moment.
As the shadows obscured the Demon’s form, only its voice remained—and it carried an even more sacred and benevolent quality.
Yet I knew the truth.
This could not be.
What it desired was Shin Yoseph and myself, and a complete descent into our bodies.
“Shin Yoseph.”
I called out to him, my voice barely a whisper, even as the Demon held him captive.
Shin Yoseph’s Adam’s apple bobbed sharply, and then—piercing through even the darkness—his eyes met mine with an intensity that burned like molten steel.
“Run.”
It happened immediately after.
Crack!
Shin Yoseph seized the Demon’s wrist.

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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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