Mu-ryeong was on his way to the cafeteria with Seung-joo for lunch. Recently, requests for exorcisms had been scarce, which meant he had fewer excuses to sleep during class. Watching Mu-ryeong walk alongside him on his own two feet instead of dozing off, Seung-joo felt an odd sense of pride—like a parent who had successfully raised their child.
"What’s for lunch today?"
"I think it’s braised pollock?"
"What about dessert?"
"No idea. Maybe sikhye?"
As they passed by Class 3, Mu-ryeong subtly glanced inside. It had become a habit since last week—checking to see if Hwan-young was there. He could have just gone straight up to him, but he had told himself not to push too hard for at least a week.
There were three students still in the classroom, including Hwan-young. As usual, he was sitting in his seat, gazing out the window. Based on what Mu-ryeong had observed so far, Hwan-young would probably head to the cafeteria once the lines got shorter.
Mu-ryeong had planned to casually greet him if their eyes met, but Hwan-young didn’t turn his head even once.
"Anyone would think you have a crush on him."
Seung-joo sighed, exasperated at Mu-ryeong’s obvious disappointment. He claimed he was waiting patiently, yet he was acting like a dog sitting in front of a treat, just waiting for permission to eat it. The difference was that no one had actually told him to wait.
"If you’re that eager, just go talk to him."
"...Just one more day. I’ll watch for today."
Mu-ryeong shook his head and turned away, following Seung-joo. Or rather, he tried to.
Just as he was about to pass by Class 3, a sudden, bone-deep chill ran down his spine.
"...."
It was instinct. The kind of raw, honed intuition that came from a lifetime of dealing with spirits. A sense that had been sharpened from the moment of his birth, trained to detect disturbances others couldn’t see.
"Hey—Kim Mu-ryeong!"
Ignoring Seung-joo’s voice, Mu-ryeong strode straight into Class 3. His pace was unrelenting, his presence intense enough to suffocate any casual conversation.
By the time he reached Hwan-young’s desk, his expression had turned severe.
"...What?"
Unlike last week, Hwan-young was now wearing his summer uniform. As always, he had buttoned his shirt all the way up, and his tie was perfectly straightened. The name "Ki Hwan-young" was neatly embroidered onto his shirt, the stitching crisp and precise.
Mu-ryeong's lips parted slowly.
"What did you do this weekend?"
The question was completely out of nowhere. But instead of asking why, Hwan-young remained silent, his lips firmly pressed together. He showed no intention of answering.
Mu-ryeong narrowed his eyes slightly, lowering his voice.
"...Did something happen?"
The moment those words left his mouth, Hwan-young’s pitch-black eyes wavered.
Just for a second—just barely—but they shook.
His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out.
Mu-ryeong didn’t rush him. Instead, he reached out, gently tapping his knuckles against Hwan-young’s clenched fist on the desk.
"If something’s wrong, you can tell me—"
A sharp, dull thud interrupted him.
From behind, Seung-joo’s startled gasp rang out. Hwan-young had shoved Mu-ryeong’s hand away—forcefully enough that Mu-ryeong had to take a step back.
Hwan-young’s face was twisted in frustration. His lips barely moved as he muttered:
"I already told you..."
Mu-ryeong stood still, waiting.
"Don’t touch me."
With those words, Hwan-young pushed back his chair and walked out of the classroom.
Mu-ryeong remained frozen, staring at the empty space where Hwan-young had just been.
His right hand still tingled.
And lingering on his skin was a faint trace of dark energy—the unmistakable presence of an evil spirit.
* * *
Where did this go wrong?
Mu-ryeong kept turning the question over in his mind long after the incident. Through afternoon classes, through the end of the school day—it gnawed at him.
The dark energy he had felt on Hwan-young.
The exhaustion on his face.
His sharp rejection, laced with confusion rather than anger.
"What the hell happened to him?"
Spiritual energy reflects the soul’s clarity.
Spiritual power reflects the mind’s strength.
For someone like Hwan-young, whose energy had always been pure, for that level of dark energy to seep into him—he must have been consumed by overwhelming negativity.
But as of Friday, he had been fine.
That day, Mu-ryeong had made one of his usual rounds—an excuse to "accidentally" check on him. At that time, Hwan-young’s energy had been just as clean and crisp as ever. Even if an evil spirit had appeared before him, Mu-ryeong was certain it wouldn’t have been able to harm him.
Yet now, in just two days, everything had changed.
Right now, in broad daylight, things might still be manageable.
But what would happen when the sun went down?
Right now, Hwan-young was like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment.
"Kim Mu-ryeong, aren’t you going home?"
Seung-joo, who had been waiting with his bag already packed, absentmindedly tapped his foot against the desk. Mu-ryeong, wearing a resolute expression, grabbed his bag and stood up.
"Seung-joo, hold this for me."
He handed over his bag with an apologetic smile, throwing in a quick wink as if to say he had no other choice.
"Tell your dad I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it for galbi-jjim."
Then, without another word, Mu-ryeong took off, practically sprinting down the hallway. People greeted him as he passed, but their voices barely registered. His only focus was Class 3.
Waiting until tomorrow was no longer an option.
He had to act now.
"Ki Hwan-young!"
Outside the 2nd Year, Class 3 classroom, Mu-ryeong didn’t hesitate—he threw open the back door and stepped inside.
Empty.
Despite arriving earlier than usual, there wasn’t a single student left.
His gaze flickered to Hwan-young’s desk—his bag was gone.
Without wasting another second, Mu-ryeong spun around and bolted down the hallway.
"I have to catch up to him—fast."
There were roughly two hours until sundown. Luckily, the days were longer now, thanks to the summer solstice. If he found Hwan-young before dark, he might still be able to prevent the worst from happening.
"He couldn’t have gone far yet."
Gripping the railing, Mu-ryeong jumped down five steps at a time, landing smoothly before immediately dashing toward the main exit.
As he ran, he mentally retraced the path they usually took home together.
"If I sprint straight to his house—"
It was over two hours away on foot.
Even if Hwan-young walked fast, Mu-ryeong could catch up by running. A normal person wouldn’t be able to, but Mu-ryeong could.
Yet somehow, as he cut across the sunlit schoolyard, heading toward the front gate, the short distance felt impossibly far.
His body had never struggled with something like this before. So why did it feel like he was falling behind today?
"...Kim Mu-ryeong? Where are you going?"
At the school gate, Seung-joo was standing there, having left the building first.
Mu-ryeong slowed for a second, just long enough for realization to hit him like a bucket of cold water.
He had made a mistake.
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"Ah... I’m so stupid."
"What?"
Seung-joo asked, but Mu-ryeong didn’t answer.
Instead, he turned around—and this time, he ran in the opposite direction.
Back toward the school.
How careless of him. Just because Hwan-young’s bag was missing, he assumed he had already left for home.
But what if he was still here?
"If he was trying to avoid me, he wouldn’t have gone straight home."
Mu-ryeong hated to admit it, but it was obvious—Hwan-young had been avoiding him.
He always stayed in the classroom until the last moment, but today, he had left early.
Which meant he must have known Mu-ryeong would come looking for him. If Hwan-young was trying to hide, he wouldn’t have taken the usual route home.
Standing in front of the main school building, Mu-ryeong scanned the area carefully.
There was still some time left. He wasn’t too late yet.
This wasn’t the time to hesitate. He had to track Hwan-young’s spiritual energy—no matter what.
He raised his right hand and whistled.
In response, a small, blue flame flickered into existence.
It was faint—almost weak. Perhaps because the sun was still up.
"Sorry, I called you too early, didn’t I?"
Mu-ryeong gathered his energy, channeling it into the flame. It flickered unsteadily for a moment, then brightened. It danced in his palms, burning vivid and strong once more.
Holding the flame in both hands, Mu-ryeong focused.
"I’ll find him myself."
The school was nearly deserted now.
Most students had already left, and soon, the security guards would begin their final patrol. But that wouldn’t be a problem.
"You just need to keep everyone else out—"
Before he could finish the thought—
A chill ran down his spine.
A suffocating wave of dark energy rushed over him.
The sunset’s glow spilled across the pavement, stretching his shadow long beneath him.
Slowly—very slowly—Mu-ryeong lifted his head to the sky.
The clouds, painted in deep crimson, were tinged with the last light of dusk.
It was nowhere near sundown yet.
But for a spirit powerful enough, shadows were already a viable path.
A terrible, creeping unease coiled around his throat.
His breath hitched as his gaze shifted—to a single, unmistakable figure in the distance.
Creak.
A sharp, grinding noise echoed in his ears, deep and jagged.
Creak. Creak.
Mu-ryeong’s eyes widened.
His voice trembled slightly as he whispered—
"...Ki Hwan-young?"
Hwan-young was there.
Perched on the edge of the rooftop, where students were strictly forbidden to go.
His legs dangled over the railing—one wrong move and he would fall.
And behind him—
The evil spirit Mu-ryeong had been searching for was clinging to his back.