Mu-ryeong’s Spirit

Mu-ryeong’s eyes widened in shock. If he had been holding anything in his hands, he would have undoubtedly dropped it. His usually bright face turned pale, and the surrounding noise faded into a distant hum.

Why?

Was it an exorcist’s intuition? A gut feeling that refused to be ignored? The incident was labeled as a mere traffic accident, but Mu-ryeong couldn't shake the suspicion that someone—or something—had orchestrated it from behind the scenes.

The moment the morning assembly ended, Mu-ryeong shot up from his seat and followed his homeroom teacher out of the classroom. Like a lost duckling, he trailed behind anxiously, hovering restlessly nearby.

“Sir, where exactly did Seung-joo get hurt?”

“Huh? You didn’t know?”

“He wasn’t picking up his phone.”

Mu-ryeong scowled, holding up his phone in frustration. If he had known earlier, he would have swung by Seung-joo’s house in the morning. But Seung-joo always arrived at school before him, so he had assumed today would be no different.

“Oh… right. His phone got damaged. His arm’s broken, but he should be discharged by the end of the day. You guys live next door to each other, so if you’re worried, you can check on him after school.”

The teacher patted Mu-ryeong on the shoulder as he spoke. At the mention of the broken phone, Mu-ryeong’s face had gone deathly pale, but upon hearing that Seung-joo would be released from the hospital today, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. If he was being discharged that soon, the injury wasn’t as severe as he had feared.

“You be careful too, Mu-ryeong. And for God’s sake, at least wear your tie properly.”

If being careful could actually prevent accidents, that’d be nice.

Mu-ryeong gave a halfhearted nod, bowing slightly in acknowledgment. He found himself regretting that he hadn’t prepared a protective talisman for Seung-joo.

Just as he was about to head back to class, his gaze locked onto someone stepping into the hallway.

“……”

“……”

A neatly tied tie, a shirt buttoned all the way to the top, and a height that towered over the other students. Even from a distance, Hwan-young’s presence was impossible to ignore.

Mu-ryeong quickly averted his gaze, trying to act like he hadn’t noticed. His body resisted the motion, but he forced himself to turn naturally.

Unfortunately, all his effort was in vain. Hwan-young closed the distance between them in an instant.

“Kim Mu-ryeong.”

“……”

How does someone move so quietly?

Tense, Mu-ryeong blinked slowly. He took a deep breath in and then exhaled softly. Steeling himself, he looked up—only to find Hwan-young’s face looming over him.

“…What?”

Damn, he’s tall.

Even accounting for Mu-ryeong’s own shorter stature, Hwan-young was absurdly tall—probably even taller than Seung-joo. The sheer difference in height made him seem almost intimidating.

“Do you have a moment?”

Despite asking, Mu-ryeong was already taking a cautious step back. The faint scuffing of his sneakers against the floor made Hwan-young glance downward for a second.

Ki Hwan-young and Kim Mu-ryeong. Given their reputations, it was no surprise that the students nearby had taken an interest in their exchange.

“If not, then—”

“I have a request for you.”

“……”

Mu-ryeong blinked in surprise.

A request?

It was as if Hwan-young had read his mind.

“I’ll come find you after school.”

Hwan-young stated his business curtly and turned away, walking off without hesitation. Mu-ryeong instinctively reached out and grabbed his wrist.

The moment his fingers wrapped around the solid muscle beneath the crisp white shirt, a wave of cool energy surged into his palm.

“……Uh,”

Mu-ryeong opened his mouth but hesitated. It wasn’t the chill of Hwan-young’s skin that caught him off guard—it was the sheer amount of surprise in Hwan-young’s eyes when he turned back.

For a moment, it seemed like Hwan-young would immediately shake him off. But instead, he stiffened slightly, holding his arm in place.

“…Sorry, but I have somewhere to be after school today.”

Mu-ryeong slowly let go, pulling his hand back cautiously. Once he had fully released his grip, he curled his fingers, stepping backward slightly. Behind his back, he clenched and unclenched his fist.

“Would tomorrow be okay instead?”

“……”

Hwan-young pressed his lips into a thin line. After a brief pause, he asked in a quiet voice,

“Your friend didn’t come to school today, did he?”

“……”

Mu-ryeong didn’t answer. He had no response—because Hwan-young was right.

Perhaps taking his silence as confirmation, Hwan-young spoke again.

“It won’t take long. Just a moment.”

Mu-ryeong didn’t give a definitive answer. But just then, the bell signaling the start of the first period rang. The students who had been eavesdropping quickly scurried back to their classrooms.

Mu-ryeong, after a moment’s hesitation, gave a slow nod.

“Fine… wait in your classroom.”

“My classroom?”

“Yeah. I’ll come find you after school.”

A flicker of curiosity crossed Hwan-young’s face. Mu-ryeong had expected him to ask why, but instead, an entirely different question came out.

“…Do you even know which class I’m in?”

Mu-ryeong, who had been tense just moments ago, suddenly let out a quiet chuckle. Hwan-young looked oddly serious for someone asking such a simple question.

“Yeah, you’re in Class 3.”

“……”

“I’ll just finish cleaning duty for my friend and then come find you, so just wait in your classroom.”

From the end of the hallway, the teacher for first period approached. Mu-ryeong bit his tongue slightly, realizing he was running out of time.

Giving Hwan-young’s forearm a light tap, he added,

“I’ll see you later.”

"You should hurry, too. See you later."

In the blink of an eye, Mu-ryeong had slipped into Class 7, leaving Hwan-young standing alone in front of the closed door.

Click.

Hwan-young stared at the spot where Mu-ryeong had disappeared, then slowly raised his arm. His fingers clenched around his own forearm—the very place where Mu-ryeong had grabbed him just moments ago.

***

―Nah, I’m fine. You know how my parents are, making a big deal out of everything.

After lunch, Mu-ryeong called Seung-joo using his mother’s phone. Thankfully, his voice sounded normal, and his usual indifferent tone hadn't changed.

According to him, the injury wasn’t serious at all, but his parents had insisted on running every test imaginable at the hospital. That’s why he ended up being admitted and, consequently, why he missed school. Considering he was the youngest and most doted-on child, it was no surprise that his family had reacted this way.

"How did it happen?"

―The strap of my bag got caught on a car’s side mirror. I tripped and landed wrong on my wrist. That’s how I sprained it. My phone broke in the fall too.

What kind of rotten luck is that?

Mu-ryeong rubbed his forehead. A bag strap getting tangled in a side mirror? That wasn’t just bad luck—it was outright cursed. Whether it was simply misfortune or something else entirely, he couldn’t say for sure.

―Anyway, it’s nothing serious. I’m fine.

"Was it your left hand?"

―No, my right.

"……."

Maybe I should really make him a talisman.

―Hey, I need to eat, so I’m hanging up.

With that, Seung-joo ended the call without hesitation. Mu-ryeong didn’t mind and set his phone down on the desk. Since Seung-joo insisted he was fine, there was no point worrying for now. He had other matters to focus on.

The afternoon dragged on at an agonizingly slow pace, as if someone had tampered with time. For once, Mu-ryeong actually paid attention in class, his bright eyes unusually sharp and focused. His effort did not go unnoticed—his teacher praised him exactly three times. If Seung-joo had been there, he would have found the whole situation absurd. You get praised just for staying awake? School life is way too easy for you.

"Alright, everyone, be careful on your way home. See you tomorrow."

After dismissal, Mu-ryeong deliberately took his time with cleaning duty, making sure to finish as late as possible. If the conversation was about a request, it would be better to talk when fewer people were around. Unfortunately, by the time he finally stepped into the hallway, it was completely deserted.

Outside the window, the setting sun painted the sky in a surreal blend of colors, as if watercolors had been spilled across the horizon. Mu-ryeong absentmindedly slid his hands into his pockets, rolling a piece of plastic between his fingers.

What kind of request is he going to make?

Mu-ryeong rarely rejected requests. Most of the time, they were things he could handle, and even if they weren’t, he would find a way. The thought of turning someone away after they had mustered the courage to ask for help felt too cruel.

Yet, for the first time since entering high school, Mu-ryeong found himself wanting to refuse.

Not for any logical reason.

Simply because the one making the request was Ki Hwan-young.@@novelbin@@

He doesn’t need my help.

When Hwan-young had approached him earlier, Mu-ryeong had felt it—a chilling yet invigorating presence, the purest spiritual energy he had ever encountered. Even his mother, a renowned exorcist, didn’t possess such untainted power.

Why would someone like Hwan-young need his help? Not just because of his energy—but because of that other ability he had.

With an aura like that, he must have the ability to see spirits.

[2-3]

Standing in front of Class 3’s door, Mu-ryeong took a deep breath. He placed a hand over his chest, focusing on the rhythm of his heartbeat.

When you’re feeling uneasy, do this to calm yourself down.

His father’s words echoed in his mind.

It took a long time before Mu-ryeong finally reached for the doorknob.

Through the small glass panel in the door, he peeked inside.

Hwan-young was nowhere in sight.

Is he sitting at the back?

As he opened the door, his heart sank.

"……."

Mu-ryeong stepped inside, moving as if drawn forward by an invisible force.

Every instinct screamed at him.

Danger.

Something was wrong.

A heavy, suffocating aura clung to his skin like damp mist. Dark energy—thick, oppressive, inescapable.

"You’re late."

Creak. Creak.

The golden hues of the setting sun cast long shadows across the empty classroom.

Hwan-young sat alone by the window, waiting.

Second to last row.

Right where the shadows stretched the longest.

His posture was relaxed, his back straight, his voice calm.

"Sit down. This won’t take long."

Creak. Creak.

"……."

Mu-ryeong couldn’t move.

His large eyes were filled with unease, his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. In the stifling silence, the sharp, grating sound dug into his ears.

Creak. Creak.

"……You."

He barely managed to speak, but the rest of the words refused to come out.

His eyelids trembled.

His breath hitched.

Long, tangled hair.

Bloodstained nails, dripping red.

Thin, skeletal arms curled around Hwan-young’s throat in an unsettling embrace.

You can’t see that?

Unspoken words stuck to the roof of Mu-ryeong’s mouth.

The ghost clinging to Hwan-young grinned, its mouth stretching open impossibly wide.