“...Your name tag?”
At Mu-ryeong’s words, Hwan-young furrowed his brow slightly. It was the same expression he had worn when Mu-ryeong had handed him a talisman after school. Of all things, he was asking for a name tag with his name on it. That wasn’t suspicious at all.
“You don’t use it anyway, right?”
But Mu-ryeong simply grinned, his usual carefree expression in place. He was certain Hwan-young wouldn’t refuse. After all, he had an extra one, so giving it away wouldn’t be a big deal.
“...What do you need my name tag for?”
“I just want to keep it with me.”
“...”
“Why?”
Mu-ryeong looked at him blankly. Hwan-young met his gaze in silence, his lips slightly parting as if he wanted to say something. But instead of speaking, he shook his head.
“...Fine, I’ll give it to you.”
With that, one major hurdle was cleared. The request was back on track, and Mu-ryeong had openly secured the right to interfere with Hwan-young. That made him so pleased that he scooped up a large bite of rice with his chopsticks and stuffed it into his mouth.
Since their walk home had taken longer than expected, by the time they finished dinner, it was already quite late. After brushing his teeth with the new toothbrush Hwan-young had given him, Mu-ryeong sat down on the bedding that had been laid out for him. As Hwan-young climbed onto his bed, Mu-ryeong spoke up casually.
“Don’t throw the toothbrush away. It’d be a waste if you keep getting a new one every time.”
“...”
Hwan-young paused and turned to look at him, his expression full of suspicion.
“...Are you planning to come again?”
“Probably?”
There weren’t many places where they could talk comfortably. The school closed at night, and it wasn’t like they could just go to a café together.
“Oh, my place would work too.”
“...”
“Whatever’s more convenient for you.”
Mu-ryeong handed over the choice without hesitation, but Hwan-young’s expression became unreadable. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he rested his hands on his thighs and spoke.
“Do you always do this when you take on a request?”
It was a vague question. Mu-ryeong was about to ask what he meant when Hwan-young added more context.
“...Do you always sleep at the client’s house?”
“Uh... No? What would I do if the client was a girl?”
Mu-ryeong had never once stayed over at a client’s house. Spending the night at school was another matter, but an actual house? Never.
“This case is different, though.”
The first night, he had stayed to observe Hwan-young up close and to see if any spirits lingered in the house. Tonight, he needed a place to talk. Next time would probably be for a similar reason.
Besides—
“The spirit only comes to you.”
Evil spirits were naturally drawn to spiritual energy. They were after Hwan-young’s soul, roaming near him, unpredictable in their appearances. It was best to stay alert. There weren’t any traces of malevolent energy in this area, but still...
“They won’t come here anyway.”
Hwan-young said this nonchalantly, his voice as calm as ever. Then, in the same steady tone, he added:
“No, they won’t come to this neighborhood at all.”
“...Why are you so sure?”
Logically speaking, he wasn’t wrong. Spirits typically gathered where the living were because they fed on the energy of the living. In deserted areas, spiritual activity naturally declined. But evil spirits weren’t ordinary ghosts—they were after Hwan-young specifically.
“There’s a rumor.”
Hwan-young’s expression didn’t change as he spoke. When his pitch-black eyes locked onto Mu-ryeong’s, an inexplicable chill ran down Mu-ryeong’s spine. That occasional fear he felt toward Hwan-young crawled up from the depths of his stomach.
“When I first came here, I got rid of all the spirits.”
“...”
That word—got rid of—wasn’t just referring to sending them off peacefully. The image of the evil spirit that had vanished in Hwan-young’s grasp flashed through Mu-ryeong’s mind. As if he had read his thoughts, Hwan-young continued in an even tone.
“You saw it yesterday.”
“...”
“If they touch me, they disappear.”
How far did that "all" extend? When Hwan-young said "spirits," did he mean only evil ones, or were all ghosts included? And if so, when had he started walking around wrapped in spiritual energy?
“After a few years of that, nothing comes here anymore.”
Mu-ryeong couldn’t respond. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, and he didn’t know what to say. He had so many questions, but he wasn’t sure how much he was allowed to ask.
“So stop wandering around at night and just go to sleep. Don’t go sleepwalking through the streets tomorrow.”
Ha... He let out a weak chuckle. So he had known all along. Mu-ryeong had thought he was being sneaky, but it turned out Hwan-young had noticed everything.
“...Hey.”
Mu-ryeong spoke softly, pulling his legs in and sitting cross-legged. He looked at Hwan-young and winked.
“Want to see something cool?”
His voice was a hushed whisper, thick with secrecy. Hwan-young frowned slightly, his gaze wary. Of course, he was the cautious type. He even doubted things like this.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’ve never shown this to Seung-joo, either. Not that he could see it anyway...”
“What is it?”
The question came without hesitation, and Mu-ryeong's lips curled into a smile. His round, gentle eyes arched playfully.
“You have to keep it a secret.”
Like a magician about to perform a trick, Mu-ryeong extended his right hand, palm facing the ceiling. Hwan-young, without a moment’s pause, placed his own hand over it. The action was eerily obedient—like a well-trained dog responding to a command.
“No... I wasn’t asking for your hand.”
Mu-ryeong let out a breathy laugh, squeezing Hwan-young’s hand for a brief moment before letting go. It was amusing. At first, even the slightest touch had made him recoil. But now, he was offering his hand so easily. Mu-ryeong wasn’t sure if he found it funny or if he was just a little proud.
“Alright, watch.”
He placed Hwan-young’s large hand onto his own thigh before lifting his own into the air again. Hwan-young, looking slightly embarrassed, pressed his lips together. His expression remained neutral, but it was obvious—he was flustered.
“What exactly am I supposed to be looking at...?”
Mu-ryeong didn’t answer. Instead, he whistled.
A sharp, high-pitched sound cut through the air, and the moment it did, a small flame flickered to life in the center of his palm.
“...”
Hwan-young’s eyes widened.
The flame crackled, burning a vivid shade of blue. It danced in place, swirling in delicate spirals, as if delighted to have been summoned.
“...Foxfire?”
Yeah, it did look exactly like foxfire—the legendary will-o’-the-wisp that lured people to the gumiho’s den. Mu-ryeong smiled faintly and infused a bit more of his energy into the flame.
“Close enough. I can even make it turn into a fox...”
Before he could finish speaking, the flame leaped from his hand and landed onto the blanket. It looked as though it might ignite the fabric, but by the time it touched the surface, it had transformed.
Now, instead of a fire, a fox sat there.
It was still entirely composed of blue flames, but its shape was unmistakably that of a fox.
The glowing creature stretched its front legs lazily, arching its back in a long, exaggerated motion.
“...A goblin.”
The fox—no, the flame—opened its mouth as if affirming Mu-ryeong’s words.
“...You keep a goblin as a pet?”
The flickering fox nuzzled against Mu-ryeong’s leg affectionately. Then, curling its body into a tight circle, it flopped onto its side and lay still. Mu-ryeong gently ran his hand along its back, shaking his head.
“I’m not keeping it. There are circumstances... so I’m just taking care of it for now.”
The explanation would take too long. The story behind why he had a goblin with him was far too complicated to tell in one sitting.
So Mu-ryeong settled for the simplest answer.
“I was supposed to erase it.”
“...”
The flame lifted its head.
Mu-ryeong, as if reassuring it, traced his fingers along its jawline, his hand coated in a thin layer of spiritual energy.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “You can go back now.”
As soon as he whispered those words, the fox disappeared. It didn’t flicker out like an ordinary flame—it vanished completely, leaving no trace behind.
“...”
“...”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Mu-ryeong rested his hand on the spot where the goblin had been, his gaze fixed on Hwan-young. His usually round eyes narrowed slightly, the look of a child caught doing something mischievous.
“My family would kill me if they found out. That’s why I never told Seung-joo either.”
It was a secret—one shared between just the two of them. Mu-ryeong deliberately lowered his voice, making the moment feel even more conspiratorial.
“You won’t tell anyone, right?”
His bright, carefree smile remained unblemished, innocent and trusting.
Hwan-young, caught off guard, muttered reflexively, “...Who would I even tell?”
He had a point. There was no one in Hwan-young’s life to whom he could say, “Kim Mu-ryeong has a goblin.” Even if there was, it wasn’t something he would ever bring up.
“Same here.”
Mu-ryeong responded casually and dropped his gaze slightly.
His long eyelashes cast soft shadows beneath his eyes.
“I won’t tell anyone about you either.”
“...”
That had been his real reason all along.
He wanted to assure Hwan-young that whatever he chose to say would stay between them. That no matter what he revealed, Mu-ryeong would simply listen.
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to...”
“...”
“But I’d like it if you did.”
Mu-ryeong wasn’t expecting Hwan-young to tell him everything—not his full story, not every detail. But there was something that Hwan-young was protecting, something that made him wrap himself in spiritual energy.
Mu-ryeong wanted to understand why.
“Don’t you have something to say to me?”
“...”
Even after the question had been asked, Hwan-young hesitated.
He kept his gaze down, staring at nothing. His body remained utterly still, lost in thought.
How long did Mu-ryeong wait?
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Finally, in a voice so quiet it was barely more than a whisper, Hwan-young spoke.
“...When I was ten years old.”
“...”
“My parents’ souls came looking for me.”