Mu-ryeong’s Spirit

It was a cautious question. Despite the tension in his furrowed brows, his voice was as soft as a whisper of down. Hwan-young frowned as he looked at the round, monolid eyes staring at him and repeated the question.

"…What?"

"I asked if you're hurt."

Mu-ryeong spoke casually, glancing over at Hwan-young. He scanned him—not just his face, but his neck, shoulders, and even the back of his hands resting on the desk. Not satisfied, he leaned forward to check beneath the desk as well, but Hwan-young’s voice, laced with reluctance, cut him off.

"I'm not hurt."

"…Really?"

There was a hint of doubt in Mu-ryeong’s slow response. He forced his expression to relax and leaned forward slightly. Ever since entering the classroom, he hadn't let his guard down for even a moment.

"When did your shoulders start feeling heavy?"

"…"

Hwan-young didn’t answer. He kept his lips shut, his expression skeptical. Mu-ryeong scratched his cheek awkwardly, sensing the distrust in Hwan-young’s gaze. His droopy eyes showed a trace of discomfort.

"…Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What do you mean, why?"

Hwan-young replied, his tone sharp, as if Mu-ryeong had just said something absurd. His lips curled into a crooked smirk.

"Your friend got hurt because of me. And that’s it? That’s all you have to say?"

His voice was flat, but the edges were sharp. The sheer disbelief in his tone made Mu-ryeong’s brow furrow slightly.

"Why are you saying it like that?"

Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed Hwan-young’s hand resting on the desk. The moment Mu-ryeong’s warmth touched him, Hwan-young flinched, his fingers twitching. He tried to yank his hand away, but Mu-ryeong didn’t let go. Instead, he wrapped both hands around it.

"Look, I’m touching you, and I’m not hurt."

"…"

Beyond his palm, he could feel Hwan-young’s body heat. A clear, refreshing energy seeped through the contact. Hwan-young parted his lips slightly as if to say something, but Mu-ryeong beat him to it.

"Even if I get hurt on my way home later, that wouldn’t be because of you."

"…"

"So don’t talk like that."

His firm voice carried no excess emotion. It wasn’t laced with sympathy or concern—just plain, unwavering certainty. Yet, Hwan-young frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"I didn’t bring this up because I wanted pity."

Annoyed, he tried to pull his hand away. Or rather, he attempted to.

"I wasn’t trying to comfort you either."

Mu-ryeong’s eyes, clear and unwavering, locked onto Hwan-young’s. His voice was steady, but the sincerity behind it was undeniable. When Hwan-young didn’t react, Mu-ryeong interlaced their fingers loosely.

"There’s no way a person could hurt someone else over something as trivial as this."

"…I get it. Now let go."

This time, Hwan-young didn’t hesitate. He forcefully shook Mu-ryeong off with enough strength that a sharp thud echoed through the classroom. Despite the sheer force, Mu-ryeong released him without showing any sign of offense. Instead, it was Hwan-young who stiffened, glancing at his own hand as if surprised by his own reaction.

"It’s fine. It was just loud, not painful."

"…Who said anything?"

Hwan-young turned his head sharply, irritated. His expression practically screamed, Don’t touch me. Mu-ryeong simply shrugged, discreetly tucking his hands under the desk, where a trace of spiritual energy lingered on his skin.

"People say words have power."

The youthful voice drifted through the quiet classroom. Hwan-young, his gaze still sharp, continued to hold eye contact with Mu-ryeong.

"Even if you didn’t mean it out of guilt, if you keep saying things like that, one day you’ll really start believing it."

"…"

"Why would Seung-joo getting hurt be your fault? If anything, I’m the one more at fault for leaving early yesterday."

Hwan-young’s brows twitched. His expression was unreadable, but something in it suggested agreement. Mu-ryeong, without realizing, let out a small chuckle. Even with that expressionless face, his thoughts sometimes peeked through.

"Well… If I had gone with him, Seung-joo probably wouldn’t have gotten hurt."

His shoulders slumped slightly, despite himself. Ever since hearing about Seung-joo’s accident, that thought had plagued him repeatedly.

If I had walked home with him. If only I had stayed a little longer.

"But thinking like that never ends."

Mu-ryeong straightened his back, forcing conviction into his voice. To make sure his words sank in, he articulated each one deliberately.

"To put it bluntly, if Seo Seung-joo hadn’t walked down that road, the accident wouldn’t have happened. If he hadn’t been carrying that bag, maybe it would’ve been fine. If it weren’t his turn for class duty this week, he might not have even crossed paths with that car."

"…"

"If we go by that logic, then everything could be a cause for what happened…"

"…"

"But does that mean it’s anyone’s fault?"

As Mu-ryeong spoke, Hwan-young’s expression turned strange. It was as if he were being swayed, or perhaps just momentarily lost in thought. Mu-ryeong averted his gaze for a moment, scratching his cheek.

"When something happens, people always rush to assign blame. But no matter what the cause is, what really matters is finding a solution."

"Well, of course, to solve a problem, you need to know the cause…"

"You’re the one who asked me to find the cause."

A flicker of amusement crossed Mu-ryeong’s clear eyes. Lifting his gaze to meet Hwan-young’s, he grinned. A small dimple formed at the center of his pale cheek.

"Let me stay at your place for the night."

***

On the way to Hwan-young’s house, Mu-ryeong sent a message to Seung-joo. He had just gotten a new phone, and there was already a message waiting from him. I won’t be home tonight. That was all he wrote. Seung-joo’s reply came almost immediately.

"Are you planning on becoming a volunteer worker or something?"

Naturally, Mu-ryeong ignored it and shoved his phone into his pocket. If he denied it, he’d just get scolded. If he admitted it, Seung-joo’s reaction would be even worse. It was easier to just let it go and endure a bit of nagging tomorrow.

What choice do I have? This is the only way.

Glancing at Hwan-young, Mu-ryeong quickened his pace. Since there was a significant height difference between them, he had to take three steps for every two Hwan-young took. Must be nice, having such long legs. The idle thought came and went, replaced by another curiosity.

I didn’t expect him to agree so easily.

When Mu-ryeong had asked to stay over, he had already prepared a whole list of excuses in his head—starting with the fundamental reasoning that he needed to observe the situation firsthand, to the more absurd claim that exorcists always spent a night at the client’s home.

…Right.

But Hwan-young had simply nodded without a word. His eyes were still filled with caution, but he didn’t ask for any explanations. He just grabbed his bag from where it hung on the desk and stood up first.

"Let’s go. It’s a bit far from here."

And just as he said, it took over two hours to reach his house. The problem wasn’t the distance—it was the fact that they walked the entire way home. Mu-ryeong wasn’t exactly out of shape, but the real issue was the sheer awkwardness.

…

…

From the moment they left school, Hwan-young had kept his mouth shut, staring straight ahead. He looked deep in thought, making it difficult for even someone as sociable as Mu-ryeong to start a conversation. The only time he had spoken was when they passed a crossroad where chrysanthemums were placed, asking Hwan-young to wait a moment.

"So… don’t you need to let your parents know?"

Mu-ryeong cautiously broke the silence, hoping to lighten the mood. Though he had spoken softly, Hwan-young turned to look at him abruptly, as if startled from deep thought.

"…My parents aren’t home."

Was it just his imagination, or did his steps slow slightly? Now that they were walking at the same pace, Mu-ryeong tilted his head in curiosity.

"You live alone?"

"Yeah. Both of them passed away."

"…"

The awkwardness doubled. The only reason Mu-ryeong didn’t blurt out an apology was because Hwan-young’s expression was so eerily neutral. Should’ve picked a better topic. Mu-ryeong berated himself, biting his lower lip in frustration.

"We’re almost there. Just around that wall."

The road twisted and turned into a more secluded area. He had felt it from the moment they entered the alley, but this neighborhood had an odd, unsettling atmosphere. The cold, stagnant air, the charm papers plastered on walls and trees—tattered and ineffective—made for a disturbingly eerie sight.

…Those talismans are worthless.

Mu-ryeong could tell at a glance that they were the work of a fake exorcist. No matter how old or torn they were, there should have been at least some trace of spiritual energy left. But these? There was nothing. Not only that, but they weren’t even placed in the proper directions.

These won’t stop a malevolent spirit, let alone a stray ghost.

Hwan-young’s spiritual energy was probably beyond what even an average exorcist could comprehend. If even Mu-ryeong, a living person, could sense its purity, then to those who longed for life, it must have been intoxicating. Enough to make them crave it, even if it meant burning themselves in the process.

Just like earlier…

Mu-ryeong narrowed his eyes, recalling the spirit that had clung to Hwan-young’s shoulder. The overwhelming darkness it radiated was unmistakable—it belonged to someone who had died long ago. Either they had met a horribly unjust death, or they had been wandering lost for much longer than he thought.

Seung-joo’s accident was likely its doing. Unable to touch Hwan-young directly, it had probably lashed out at anything carrying his presence. A pointless act of spite, but then again, the dead often harbored the worst kind of resentment.

I need to take care of this before it’s too late.

Mu-ryeong had been raised in a family of exorcists with strict teachings—once you see an evil spirit, you must track it down and eliminate it. A lost soul that had already succumbed to corruption could never return to what it once was.

Of course, Mu-ryeong had his own, less violent methods. But if his mother ever found out he had let it escape right under his nose, she would not let it slide.

Still, that wasn’t the real reason he felt so restless. Getting scolded was one thing—he wasn’t even an officially recognized exorcist yet. No, what really bothered him was something Hwan-young had said.

"People who come into contact with me always end up getting hurt."

Mu-ryeong never wanted to see anyone in pain, no matter the reason. He wanted everyone he knew to live in peace, free from harm.

And that included Hwan-young, who was still practically a stranger to him.

"I’m not hurt."@@novelbin@@

It was only after hearing those words that Mu-ryeong realized something.

The one who was truly hurt wasn’t Hwan-young’s body—it was his heart.