An Office Worker Is Good At Exorcism - Chapter 51

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

Chapter 50
Part 8. East Gate (4)
Wind-driven clouds wrapped around the moon.
Though it was a full moon, the clouds obscured it, leaving the Mountain in darkness.
Swallowed entirely by absolute blackness, the Mountain seemed to lose all boundary with the night sky—as if it had ceased to exist in the world altogether.
Within that darkness, Kang Hyung-seok held the Shaman’s Bell forward.
“I have a question. What is that ritual?”
The Old Man only uttered strange sounds and offered no answer.
Ding!
The Shaman’s Bell rang, and the Old Man’s cries ceased.
Then he breathed rapidly, his lips—cracked like parched fields—opening at last.
“My sin. The calamity I must receive.”
Ding!
As the Shaman’s Bell rang again, Kang Hyung-seok shifted his gaze to the Old Man and stepped closer, one pace at a time.
The darkness seemed to deepen, and the stench of sweat, the reek of bedsores, the acrid stench of rodent and insect droppings—all grew nearer.
“What is your sin?”
When Kang Hyung-seok asked quietly, the Old Man’s lips trembled and contorted.
Yet he could not bring himself to speak, only sobbing.
It was wailing accompanied by violent emotion.
Unable to press for an answer, Kang Hyung-seok waited for the Old Man to speak.
“…My son.”
“…Your son?”
“My son, my son. My son.”
The Old Man, struggling to speak, suddenly let out a cry of anguish as if his breath had been severed.
“Aaahhh! Khhhhh-khhhhh!”
The bestial wail was so immense it made the listener’s body resonate with its force.
Yet Kang Hyung-seok continued to approach the Old Man, the Shaman’s Bell held before him.
I must hear this.
I must hear it.
Only by understanding the source of the calamity can I sever it.
“Speak. What connection exists between your son and your sin?”
“Uhhhhh! Aaahhhhh!”
“You must speak. Please, tell me.”
“Ughhhh! Aaahhhhh! Krrrrrhhhhh!”
Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang!
The more I approached the Old Man, the stronger the spiritual presence became.
Kang Hyung-seok shook the Shaman’s Bell violently.
The bestial sounds from the Old Man gradually subsided, and soon a human voice emerged.
“…I killed him.”
“…Your son?”
Whoosh!
In that instant, the Old Man’s head snapped up with startling speed.
His eyes, gleaming with whites so bright they were visible even through the darkness, fixed upon me.
That was when it happened.
“I killed my own son.”
The Old Man’s voice was eerily calm, almost matter-of-fact.
It was as though he had been waiting for this very moment all along.
“You called me Seok-woo at first. Are you referring to that person?”
“No.”
“Then who is this son you claim to have killed?”
Strangely, the interior seemed to sink deeper into darkness.
My eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom enough to see the Old Man, but now only the whites of his eyes were visible as the surroundings grew pitch black.
“A son I made before him.”
I swallowed hard.
My breath caught in my throat, and a foul taste filled my mouth.
A sensation of drawing near to something I should never have known.
A feeling that I should dig no deeper.
Clang clang!
Yet the Shaman’s Bell, ringing of its own accord, seemed to insist that I must not stop.
I drew a deep breath and, staring into the Old Man’s gleaming eyes, opened my mouth.
“Where is this son you killed?”
That was the source of this calamity.
That was the beginning of this incident.
I had to know.
At that moment, the Old Man’s head twisted sharply to the side as though his neck might snap.
Then, in a voice that remained eerily calm yet tinged with bewilderment, he asked:
“You didn’t drink any?”
Suddenly, I clapped my hand over my mouth as nausea surged up.
‘It was alcohol.’
His son was in the liquor laced with calamity.
The alcohol distributed to all those people—it was a curse meant to spread this Old Man’s karma to others.
“Who—who made you do this? Who taught you this method?”
“A Shaman.”
The corners of the Old Man’s lips slowly rose, and a bright smile spread across his face.
“Hehehk! Heeee—hehehehehk!”
Watching the Old Man laugh like he was crying and cry like he was laughing, I felt bile rise in my throat.
My mind spun.
I stumbled backward from the Old Man, my eyes bloodshot, and hurriedly fled the building.
Slam!
Even as the door closed, I remembered the Old Man’s gaze fixed upon me, and I expelled the stale air from my lungs.
“I have to tell him. I need to inform the Manager.”
Kang Hyung-seok, having regained his composure swiftly, picked up his phone and called Shin Jung-ah.
***
The call wouldn’t connect.
The signal couldn’t reach into the underground chamber.
In the Underground Chamber, where weighty silence had settled, Shin Jung-ah stared blankly at a single point.
Whoooosh.
The spirit that had led her to this place.
It stood within arm’s reach, its charred face fixed upon Shin Jung-ah with an unwavering gaze.
And it extended its hand, pointing downward.
-It’s here.
From the blackened mouth of the thing that spoke in a young woman’s voice, crimson blood poured forth.
And the moment Shin Jung-ah blinked, everything vanished.
The sound of the person burning that had pierced her ears.
The crimson firelight that had illuminated the surroundings so brightly.
The spirit whose presence had felt so overwhelmingly intense.
Nothing remained.
Zzzzk.
Yet Shin Jung-ah collapsed in place and opened her bag.
Unzipping it, she withdrew a folding knife purchased from a mountaineering supply store, and with an expressionless face, she stabbed repeatedly at the spot the spirit had indicated.
Her eyes held no focus.
They were the eyes of one bewitched by a spirit.
Thwack! Stab! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Beside her as she carved into the earth, her phone lay abandoned.
Its light remained on, casting a soft glow across the surroundings.
The hundreds of infused spirits on the shelf above were growing darker in color as the ground was torn asunder.
***
Thump-thump-thump!
Kang Hyung-seok sprinted through the darkened mountain, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The phone in his hand still displayed an unconnected call screen.
“Damn it.”
He cursed under his breath and continued attempting to dial, gripping the phone tightly.
‘I’ve figured out the cause. How the calamity began.’
It started with the Old Man.
The Old Man lying in that building had killed his son, and through that act, created the Mugho.
It was to escape the karma he should have borne.
(The call won’t connect….)
Beep!
He ended the call and exhaled sharply through the gap between his teeth.
If his suspicion was correct, Shin Jung-ah would be with the spirit by now.
‘Father and child. And mother.’
A child cannot be created alone.
Just as darkness exists where light exists, a child is born only when both father and mother are present.
Shin Jung-ah said she had seen the Burning Spirit.
The spirits bound to this mountain were not only the Old Man’s son.
“…He killed his wife too.”
The resentment and sin embedded in this mountain were far too great.
Kang Hyung-seok suddenly covered his mouth as a wave of nausea surged up.
Then something hot touched his fingers.
Drip, drip-drip, drip.
Blood trickled down his fingers from his nose.
Clang-clang-clang!
The Shaman’s Bell rang out as well, as if confirming that Kang Hyung-seok’s thoughts were correct.
He exhaled deeply and raised the Shaman’s Bell high.
“When life is born and earth sustains, all things harmonize. When malevolent spirits invade, they shall surely perish, and when vengeful ghosts transgress, they shall be destroyed.”
The son killed by the Old Man.
And his mother.
I must release the resentment of these two.
Only then will all the calamity bound to this mountain vanish and the Mugho be broken.
“In the second, third, and fourth months, the resentment shall be released upon the spring breeze. In the fifth, sixth, and seventh months, the resentment shall be released upon the flowing waters.”
Hoping that the resentment of both souls would be released and they could ascend to heaven, Kang Hyung-seok recited the next verse.
“In the eighth, ninth, and tenth months, the resentment shall be released upon the falling leaves.”
It was then.
Whoosh!
A stone flew sharply through the darkness, grazing past Kang Hyung-seok’s side.
Kang Hyung-seok turned in alarm toward the source.
It was someone he knew.
The man I saw in the Shaman’s memory when his shoe fell off.
The Old Man’s second son, and the one who spread the liquor containing calamity.
“What are you?”
He glared at Kang Hyung-seok fiercely, a sack in one hand and a blackened club in the other.
“Why did this bastard come here? How much did you see?”
The toad-like figure fixed his gleaming eyes—those of a possessed patient—on the Shaman’s Bell clutched in Kang Hyung-seok’s grip.
“I’ll ask again, you shamanic bastard—why did you come here? I could crush your skull a thousand times.”
Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle.
Seok-woo began dragging the sack, which writhed and spilled blood, toward me.
Kang Hyung-seok met Seok-woo’s gaze as he observed the club in his hands.
A vile stench of beast and spirit emanated from him.
With my spiritual sight opened, I could see the animal spirits dangling across Seok-woo’s back.
Thud! Thud!
Seok-woo approached menacingly, hurled the sack aside, and gripped the club with both hands.
‘The Monk.’
He whom I met at the base of the Mountain had said there would be those who interfere.
He said there would be something to shake my resolve.
That something was Seok-woo.
“Why did you come here, you bastard!”
Seok-woo shrieked with malice, and Kang Hyung-seok glared back and opened his mouth.
“I came to break the Mugho.”
Immediately after, Seok-woo’s eyes rolled back.
“Eeeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhh!”
Seok-woo let out a bestial howl and swung the club with tremendous force.
Whoosh!
Dodging the club that came at my head, I grabbed Seok-woo’s arm and threw him over my hip.
The impact reverberated through his back with crushing weight.
Though he should have struggled to breathe, Seok-woo immediately came at me again.
Crack!
The club, missing my head, struck a tree with a resonant thud.
Thud!
My fist connected with Seok-woo’s mouth, and clear saliva sprayed forth. Yet he refused to release the club, swinging it at me instead.
Crack! Hack, boom!
Grabbing his arm, I threw Seok-woo down again and clenched my fist.
There was no time for this.
I had to end this interference and continue the salvation rite.
Thud! Crack!
Pinning Seok-woo beneath me, I struck with vicious precision.
These were trained strikes.
Most people would lose consciousness or their will to fight, yet Seok-woo’s eyes still gleamed with murderous intent.
‘Damn it, possessed ones are always like this!’
A strange sense of discord washed over me.
When an animal spirit inhabits a person, they behave like beasts.
Walking upright on two legs and wielding tools like this one does—it’s not easy.
Possession was certain, but something else seemed to be dwelling within Seok-woo’s body.
Crack!
“Who are you?”
Kang Hyung-seok pressed down on Seok-woo’s chest, his voice dropping low.
“You! Who the hell are you! Speak!”
At that moment, Seok-woo’s eyes—wild as a beast’s—snapped wide open.
He locked gazes with Kang Hyung-seok and spoke in an inhuman, guttural voice.
“Shaman.”
A title shamans use when addressing one another.
Kang Hyung-seok felt goosebumps crawl up his forearms.
“What?”
“My Mugho. The Mugho I created, the Mugho I raised. It doesn’t matter if you ruin it. That wretched bastard deserves to have his limbs torn apart. I’d relish it.”
Watching the Shaman Spirit spew curses like a malevolent ghost, Kang Hyung-seok’s face contorted.
It all began when the Old Man created the Mugho.
The one who revealed that secret method, the one who sustained the Mugho all these years, the malevolent spirit obsessed with it—unable to leave this world even in death.
That was the Shaman Spirit before my eyes.
“You bastard!”
Thud!
The Shaman Spirit’s face snapped to the side from the punch.
***
Clang!
The moment my pocket knife struck something hard, I snapped back to awareness.
“Huh?”
Blinking, I looked around in confusion.
The underground wine storage, still dimly lit only by my phone’s glow.
‘What… what was that? What was I doing…?’
The memory came rushing back.
I’d seen the Burning Spirit, and without thinking, I’d started digging at the ground. Realizing I’d been possessed by the spirit, I jolted upright in shock.
Startled and terrified.
Yet a strange, incomprehensible emotion clung to my heart like something viscous.
Clutching my racing chest, I looked toward where the spirit had been.
“W-wait? What?”
The spirit hadn’t meant to harm me.
It seemed desperate to convey something instead.
Trembling with fear, I examined the pit I’d dug.
‘What is this? I’m losing my mind. Seriously.’
A sealed jar lay buried in the earth.
My hands shook as I reached out, teeth clenched.
I had to open it.
I didn’t know why, but I felt certain that opening it would release the Burning Spirit’s resentment.
“Damn it.”
Even as fear-tinged complaints escaped my lips, I grasped the jar’s lid.
So focused on the jar, I didn’t notice.
The bottles on the shelves were turning red.
The contents suspended in the alcohol were dissolving as if their purpose had finally ended.
The Mugho that had been performed in this place for decades was breaking apart.
Clunk.
I lifted the jar’s lid.
And seeing what lay inside, I felt all the blood in my body turn to ice.
Something that should never have existed was in that jar.

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