Chapter 223
Jang Mok-hwa, having roughly figured out the direction, followed the drainage channel toward the center of the village.
The merman prisoner had said that the temple was somewhere along the alley on the east side of the plaza.
Inside the town, just like outside, it was extremely quiet except for the sound of the wind and the occasional bicycle. The silence was so intense it made her head throb.
“I didn’t notice it from the outside, but it feels strange in here with absolutely no sound,” Jang Mok-hwa said, looking around. She thought the eerie atmosphere was probably due to the narrow roads, the claustrophobic environment, and the idle, lifeless mood.
Seong Geon-woo suddenly sighed.
“I should’ve come with Ye-hong.”
“And what would you have done if you were together?”
Seong Geon-woo sighed again.
“I would have told ghost stories.”
“You’re a really good friend,” Jang Mok-hwa said sincerely.
As they talked, a small open plaza came into view.
On the east side of the plaza was a podium about 50 centimeters high, but there was nothing on top of it. Beyond the cement podium, a narrow alley stretched out. The alley smelled of rot, as though no wind had ever passed through it for a very long time.
Jang Mok-hwa quickly rode her bicycle up to the alley and leaned it against the side.
The two finally arrived at their destination.
Seong Geon-woo got off his bicycle, showing a hint of worry.
“Shouldn’t we lock our bikes? It would be a big problem if they got stolen.”
“If your bike disappears, you can ride mine,” Jang Mok-hwa replied, going along with his train of thought rather than scolding him for imagining someone would steal a bike in a deserted place.
About ten seconds later, the two of them, having secured their bikes, cautiously entered the alley, rifles in hand.
The deeper they went, the stronger the stench of rot became, thick and heavy as if it could solidify at any moment, yet Jang Mok-hwa and Seong Geon-woo could breathe without any issue.
Every building along the alley had its doors and windows firmly shut. Unlike places that seemed looted, these doors were all closed and painted black.
As they continued walking, Jang Mok-hwa could hear their footsteps echoing through the narrow alley, overlapping continuously.
“This place really is unusual,” she muttered.
Soon, the temple appeared.
At the end of the alley, elevated slightly above the surrounding buildings, the temple didn’t fundamentally differ in architectural style from the other structures nearby.
The firmly closed black doors were topped with black roof tiles, and on either side hung white paper lanterns. Protected by the eaves, the lanterns seemed undamaged, as if placed just last night.
Compared to other buildings, the temple had a taller doorway, under which hung a black signboard with white characters. Calmly inspecting it, Jang Mok-hwa read the inscription clearly:
[Yeomla-jeon (閻邏殿)]
“Doesn’t look that special,” she remarked without hesitation.
She approached the temple doors with Seong Geon-woo. As they neared, a peculiar sensation washed over them—a fear that seemed to target the very depths of the mind.
Yet, without the slightest hesitation, Jang Mok-hwa extended her left hand to the door and applied slight pressure. Before mounting their bicycles, she and Seong Geon-woo had already worn latex gloves. Using only her left hand was a precaution for unforeseen circumstances.
Creak—
The black temple doors slowly slid open, revealing the interior.
The first thing that caught their eyes was the courtyard.
At each corner of the courtyard stood a water jar, and at the far end, a small altar was set up, draped with a white curtain.
As they stepped inside the temple, Jang Mok-hwa’s fear dissipated instantly, though a heavy, stifling pressure weighed on her chest, as if massive stones were piled there. Not a sound of wind could be heard, adding to the unreal stillness.
At that moment, Seong Geon-woo spoke up.
“There’s a human consciousness. About ten meters in.”
His explanation was slightly vague, as he couldn’t be certain of the exact range.
“Did you only sense it after entering?” Jang Mok-hwa asked. She remembered that Seong Geon-woo’s consciousness detection range extended up to twenty meters.
He nodded.
Focusing her own attention, Jang Mok-hwa muttered after a while, with slight hesitation:
“There is definitely some electrical activity… very faint though. Does that mean the being’s vital signs are extremely low?”
Speaking, she and Seong Geon-woo moved behind the altar.
At that moment, they discovered a black coffin.
Inside the open coffin lay a person.
Sunlight filtered in from outside, passing through the rolled-up curtain to illuminate the deep interior of the temple, allowing them to make out the figure within the coffin.
The person had extremely long black hair, dressed in white hemp clothing, and appeared thoroughly desiccated, as though preserved with embalming substances and left in a well-ventilated place for a long time.
Because of this, Jang Mok-hwa could not see his actual facial features. Without reconstructing him digitally, she could only determine whether he was deformed or not, not whether he was handsome or not. Without the faint electrical signals confirming he was alive, she would have assumed the figure was a preserved mummy due to the environment. She could not have imagined it was a sleeping spirit.
She could faintly smell the embalming chemicals. Combined, the conditions created an even colder, eerier atmosphere.
Lowering her gaze slowly, Jang Mok-hwa noticed a bracelet made of intertwined twigs on the right arm of the sleeping spirit.
Thump thump—
Feeling her own heartbeat, she turned to look at Seong Geon-woo.
Wearing a fluffy monkey mask, he stared intently at the sleeping spirit like one would at a corpse.
“What are you thinking right now?” she asked, hesitating slightly.
“CPR, artificial respiration, and pacemaker,” Seong Geon-woo replied seriously.
“…”
Jang Mok-hwa realized once again that, although her mental state was normal, she existed in a completely different world from Seong Geon-woo.
A few seconds later, she spoke with a mix of annoyance and amusement:
“Don’t you remember the company guidelines? We’re not supposed to interact with so-called spirits unless necessary.”
“They only said not to move them,” Seong Geon-woo countered flawlessly.
“And what I just said? You need to be extra cautious and adhere strictly to the rules. I almost forgot because of you. That twig bracelet… doesn’t it look familiar?”
She scoffed, not giving him a chance to argue.
“It looks similar to the laurel crown the awakened merman was wearing,” she said.
Seong Geon-woo had already noticed the bracelet as well.
Jang Mok-hwa continued her questioning:
“I think his power came from that laurel crown. When you touched it back then, did anything seem strange?”
Seong Geon-woo shook his head.
“Completely ordinary.”
“Right. If it had been special, someone would’ve taken it already. The Song warning said that a powerful awakened being who has reached the depths of the spiritual corridor can leave their energy behind in the corridor or the real world, even fusing it with objects or humans.
So perhaps the energy originally in the laurel crown entered the awakened merman’s body, making him powerful. Yet, latent danger remained. Back then, he looked like he might give birth to a monster.
If we hadn’t kept firing at him, letting the transformation continue, what would have happened? Would the sleeping spirit have awakened because of it?
But if it could have been handled that simply, the followers who trusted him would have already completed the task. It’s natural for a spirit to try to protect itself with the objects it possesses. Does the energy fuse only with someone in the same domain?”
Jang Mok-hwa’s thoughts spiraled, staring down at the mummified figure. It was a creative theory, but it could be explained in other ways, as there was little evidence to support it.
For example, this so-called Yeomla spirit might not have foreseen these events before falling asleep, leaving no instructions. In that case, the fearful followers would never dare touch his body or the items he possessed.
Seong Geon-woo then suggested a way to verify her hypothesis.
“We’d know immediately if we tried.”
“…No need for that,” Jang Mok-hwa said, suppressing the urge. She understood exactly what he meant.
Seong Geon-woo and the awakened merman belonged to the same domain, but she was not even an awakened being. Even if they took the twig bracelet and tried to use it, if the energy did not seep into their bodies, everything would make sense.
But it was extremely dangerous.
Sighing, Jang Mok-hwa checked her wristwatch with her free hand while holding the rifle in the other.
“Nine minutes left,” she said.
She had been timing it from the moment they crossed the temple threshold, factoring in some leeway. To reach the full fifteen minutes, thirteen minutes remained.
Seong Geon-woo, seeing no time to waste, suggested an idea:
“Do you think it’s listening to us? If I play music, would it hear it? Could a certain song make it spring up and start dancing?”
‘Being with him makes even a weird and scary situation absurd. It almost becomes funny. Unless someone deliberately wants to scare it.’
When Jang Mok-hwa first saw the figure in the coffin, it had been slightly eerie. Now, she didn’t even know what expression to wear in response.
After a moment’s hesitation, she replied:
“Try talking. Not the music.”
Seong Geon-woo let out a disappointed sigh and approached the coffin.
“Can you hear me? Blink once if you can.”
He repeated this kindly in both Ashlandic and Redriverian. But the emaciated spirit showed no reaction.
Seong Geon-woo raised his voice.
“Someone stole your hat!”
He meant the laurel crown.
Yet the mummy-like spirit still didn’t move.
