Mu-ryeong’s Spirit

The first time Mu-ryeong saw him was on the day of their high school entrance ceremony. The weather was warm for March, with a clear sky unblemished by clouds. His new uniform felt unfamiliar, his freshly bought shoes were awkward, and the brick walls surrounding the school seemed unusually high.

That beautiful morning, Mu-ryeong had overslept. Cursing Seung-joo, who had gone ahead without him, he sprinted toward the school. The excitement from the night before had kept him awake, and that was the problem. His family, following their philosophy that a high school student should be responsible enough to wake up on his own, had let him sleep until the final alarm shut off.

Fortunately, the school was only a ten-minute sprint away—impossible for an average person, but effortless for someone with his exceptional athletic ability.

Barely making it in time, Mu-ryeong checked the clock and decided to cut across the school’s backyard instead of using the main gate. He quickly assessed the route and leaped onto the brick wall.

And that’s when he saw Ki Hwan-young. No, to be precise—he discovered him.@@novelbin@@

…

Hwan-young was standing at the back of the building, gazing absentmindedly at the sky. He was wearing the same uniform, yet his physique was noticeably larger, and his striking features were enough to make people turn their heads. But more than that, the air surrounding him was incomprehensibly silent.

Mu-ryeong had never seen someone who felt so much like a spirit before. It wasn’t just that he stood there motionlessly or that he didn’t even blink. His eyes, which should have reflected the bright blue sky, held no trace of life.

Born with the ability to see spirits, Mu-ryeong had often mistaken ghosts for humans. In the past, when he couldn’t yet distinguish spiritual energy from malevolent auras, he had relied on appearances alone to judge whether someone was alive. Of course, as he grew older and honed his abilities, such mistakes became rare.

Is he… human?

Even for someone like Mu-ryeong, Hwan-young didn’t seem like a living person. His sharp nose and well-shaped lips were full of color, yet his skin was pale, making the contrast even starker. And even from this distance, Mu-ryeong could faintly sense spiritual energy from him—clear and undisturbed, something rarely found in ordinary humans.

…

Should he ask what he was doing?

There wasn’t much hesitation between thought and action. According to Seung-joo, Mu-ryeong was the type to befriend even a burglar who broke into his house. Talking to strangers had never been a problem for him. He figured he’d simply ask what Hwan-young was up to and, if he was a first-year, suggest they be friends. With that lighthearted thought, he jumped down from the wall.

And then—

…Oh.

From the elongated shadow of a tree, a malevolent spirit began to creep out. No, to be precise, it wasn’t just a single ghost, but an earthbound spirit—a conglomeration of restless souls bound to a place. Such entities were rarely visible during the day and rarely targeted ordinary people. Yet, this one had opened its jaws wide, lunging directly at Hwan-young.

No…!

Mu-ryeong was so shocked that he botched his landing. He twisted his right ankle in surprise, yet he was so bewildered that he didn’t even register the pain.

As he instinctively reached out to intervene, something unbelievable happened before his eyes.

The spirit, upon touching Hwan-young, was repelled as if it had hit an invisible barrier.

It couldn’t touch him. It couldn’t even leave a scratch on the rippling spiritual energy surrounding him. Instead, it crashed as though against a wall and slithered back into the shadows.

A barrier—that was the only way to describe it. A thin, imperceptible layer of energy encased Hwan-young’s entire body, effortlessly repelling the spirit. He hadn’t lifted a finger, yet the force surrounding him had driven the earthbound spirit away.

…

For the first time in his life, Mu-ryeong felt something entirely new. An overwhelming difference in power, a suffocating sense of threat so intense it made his legs weak. And, above all, the kind of precise spiritual control that only the most seasoned exorcists could achieve.

"It’s best not to get involved with other exorcists if you can help it."

His father’s words flashed through his mind. Mu-ryeong instinctively stilled his presence and began to retreat, step by step. If he turned around and disappeared before Hwan-young noticed him, he could escape without issue.

If only Hwan-young hadn’t lifted his head and looked straight at him.

If only—

…

…

Their eyes met.

Mu-ryeong froze in place, unable to move. Black eyes locked onto him, unwavering and still.

To be clear, Hwan-young wasn’t intimidating in a conventional sense. His features were strikingly beautiful, youthful yet refined. His slightly delicate air didn’t seem threatening in any way.

And yet, Mu-ryeong felt sheer terror.

The depth in those dark eyes—something about them made him believe he could be devoured at any moment. For someone as instinct-driven as Mu-ryeong, this was a primal, gut-wrenching certainty.

But soon, Hwan-young lost interest and looked away. His dark eyes blinked once, then focused on something else entirely. The eerie stillness of that moment lingered in Mu-ryeong’s mind, stretched out like a scene from a slow, unspooling tape.

That day, Mu-ryeong learned his name: Ki Hwan-young.

It was a fitting name. And yet, at the same time, it heightened the unsettling feeling he already had. For the briefest moment, looking at Hwan-young had felt like seeing a mirage—something intangible, unreal.

After that day, Mu-ryeong made an effort to avoid running into Hwan-young. That was why, despite befriending nearly the entire student body, he had never once exchanged words with him. Not that it seemed like Hwan-young interacted much with anyone else, either.

…

And now, of all people, he found himself in this strange situation with Ki Hwan-young.

Creak. Creak.

Mu-ryeong sat in the seat behind Hwan-young, while Hwan-young had turned to face him. This awkward standoff had already lasted over ten minutes. During that time, Hwan-young had shared his concerns, and Mu-ryeong had been intently studying his every reaction.

"Lately, my shoulders feel heavy."

That was how it started. His story continued with complaints about his worsening physical condition.

His face was paler than ever, almost sickly, and Mu-ryeong found himself absorbed in the conversation. With something that big clinging to him, of course his shoulders would feel heavy.

"I can’t sleep properly either."

Creak. Creak.

"I don’t feel rested at all when I wake up."

Creak. Creak.

"And lately… it’s been getting worse."

As Hwan-young spoke, the noise drilling into Mu-ryeong’s ears was disturbingly vivid.

Creak. Creak. ……Creak.

It was a sound sharp enough to make him want to claw at his own ears, yet Hwan-young didn’t so much as blink. He didn’t flinch when stray strands of hair brushed against his hand, nor when a drop of blood splattered onto his sleeve.

And so, despite knowing how absurd it was, Mu-ryeong found himself forming a hypothesis—one that suddenly made everything click.

Perhaps, despite possessing such an overwhelming spiritual aura, Ki Hwan-young… couldn’t actually see spirits.

The thought explained everything—why Hwan-young had come to him for help, and why the ghost clinging to his back was digging its nails into his flesh, desperate to devour his soul.

He’s not an exorcist, after all…

Not everyone with spiritual energy became an exorcist. If his spiritual sight hadn’t awakened, he might not even be aware of the power he carried. There were still too many uncertainties, but for now, it was the best explanation Mu-ryeong had.

"…That’s all that’s been bothering you?"

Mu-ryeong met Hwan-young’s gaze calmly, though his mind was racing, trying to figure out what to do.

Most people already accepted that ghosts existed. The popularity of horror movies and urban legends every summer was proof enough that the idea of supernatural beings wasn’t shocking.

But knowing ghosts exist and realizing one is attached to you were two entirely different things. All fear stemmed from recognition—so for now, it was best to pretend ignorance. As an exorcist, as someone who was meant to protect both spirits and humans, Mu-ryeong had long learned that not everything he saw should be spoken about.

"I take all kinds of requests, but I’m not a doctor, you know."

Creak. Creak.

The unsettling sound of nails digging in echoed in his ears. The spirit clinging to Hwan-young’s back was so fixated on its grip that its fingertips were beginning to bleed. It was so absorbed that even if Mu-ryeong acted now, it likely wouldn’t flee immediately.

Swallowing, Mu-ryeong slowly reached out toward Hwan-young’s shoulder.

"For now, I could at least give you a massage—"

Creak.

Thud.

A hand grabbed his wrist.

Not the ghost’s hand—Hwan-young’s.

Mu-ryeong felt the familiar sensation of spiritual energy pressing against his skin. The instant stillness that followed made the ghost raise its head and lock eyes with him.

…

…

Shit.

That was the only thought in Mu-ryeong’s head.

In a blink, it slipped away into the stretched-out shadows. Mu-ryeong jerked forward, but it was already gone—completely vanished before his eyes.

"…Uh."

Damn it. This wasn’t good.

"Could you, um… let go?"

Mu-ryeong forced an awkward smile, his lips twitching as he glanced down.

Hwan-young’s hand, easily large enough to wrap around his wrist completely, had him locked in place. The cool touch of his skin lingered, but unlike before, the sensation was slowly fading.

"…What’s with you all of a sudden?"

His sharp voice was laced with suspicion. Mu-ryeong frowned at the faint marks left on his wrist, an odd sense of unease creeping in. And yet, when Hwan-young let go, there was also a strange… reluctance.

"Ah, sorry… I acted too suddenly, huh."

Still forcing a smile, Mu-ryeong glanced at the shadow stretching across the floor. The ghost was already gone—its aura had completely disappeared. If it had run away for good, that would have been ideal. But the likelihood was much higher that it would return to Hwan-young soon.

"Well, you see, I just—"

"People who touch me keep getting hurt."

…

The words cut through the air without warning.

Mu-ryeong had been about to tell him not to worry, that he’d handle everything. He had been about to ask for more details. But the words died in his throat.

Hwan-young continued, his voice as calm and steady as ever.

"Anyone who grabs my arm. Or if I grab them. Even people I accidentally bump into while walking—bad things keep happening. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, but after a while… I realized something was wrong."

…

"Your friend got hurt because of me, too."

His last sentence was delivered with unsettling confidence.

Hwan-young’s face remained unreadable, but Mu-ryeong could sense something buried beneath his expression.

Mu-ryeong hesitated for a brief moment before carefully parting his lips.

"…And what about you?"

Dark eyes met his gaze.

Slowly, those black irises blinked, reflecting Mu-ryeong’s face in their depths.

Furrowing his brows slightly, Mu-ryeong lowered his voice and asked,

"Are you okay?"