Mu-ryeong’s Spirit

The moment the meal was placed before him, Mu-ryeong wasted no time in lifting the lid off his tray.

It was already late, and he had been starving. Fluffy white rice and soft rolled omelet had never looked so appetizing. As the saying went, hunger is the best seasoning.

"Thanks for the meal."

The polite remark was met with a barely concealed sigh.

"You’re not a puppy, you know…"

Mu-ryeong only then realized how much like a dog he had been acting.

"I actually have a dog."

"…What?"

"Want to see a picture?"

He didn’t wait for a response. Grabbing his phone, he flipped to his photo album, which was filled with only two things—pictures of Seolgi and stray cats.

"Look at this. Isn’t he cute?"

"…"

Despite himself, Hwan-young actually looked at the picture seriously.

When he reached a photo of Seolgi lying on his back, belly exposed, his expression softened ever so slightly.

Mu-ryeong, noticing the change, excitedly added more details.

"His name’s Seolgi. Short for Baekseolgi. He’s twelve now, but still super affectionate."

Seolgi had been a stray puppy Mu-ryeong’s father found on the street when Mu-ryeong was little. Back then, he had been small enough to fit in both hands, but he had since grown to the size of a Jindo dog (dog breed).

His half-folded ears and fluffy coat suggested a mix of breeds—perhaps something close to a Poongsan dog (dog breed).

"Baekseolgi (a Korean steamed rice cake, pure white in color)? Like the rice cake?"

"Yeah, doesn’t it suit him?"

Hwan-young stared at the picture with a subtle frown, as if trying to decipher something.

The image showed Seolgi sprawled on the floor, tongue lolling out—likely after a long play session with Mu-ryeong.

"He looks more like Injeolmi (a Korean rice cake made by steaming and pounding glutinous rice) than Baekseolgi."

"…"

Mu-ryeong glanced at the photo.

Sure enough, unlike when he was younger, Seolgi had darkened into a warm golden-brown—almost like a perfectly toasted rice cake.

Even so, in Mu-ryeong’s eyes, he was still his snow-white puppy.

Once the brief moment of Seolgi appreciation passed, Mu-ryeong finally started eating in earnest.

He wasn’t picky about food, so even a simple meal felt like a feast to him.

Seeing how enthusiastically Mu-ryeong ate, Hwan-young casually muttered:

"Let me know if you need more."

Unlike Mu-ryeong, who was clearly enjoying the meal, Hwan-young ate with complete indifference.

He wasn’t picking at his food, but it was clear that eating was nothing more than a chore to him.

Recalling the fully stocked fridge filled with convenience store meals, Mu-ryeong swallowed his bite before speaking.

"Do you want to come eat at my place sometime?"

Hwan-young paused mid-bite, his chopsticks suspended in the air.

"There are times when we cook a lot of food at home. Seung-joo stops by to eat, too, so you should come by sometime."

It was just a casual offer—not something he actually expected Hwan-young to accept.

More than anything, Mu-ryeong felt obligated to return the favor since he was staying over.

But the moment the words left his mouth, Hwan-young’s tone turned cold.

"You’re not here for fun."

A sudden reminder of reality.

A deliberate effort to draw a line between them.

Most people would have felt awkward or offended, but Mu-ryeong simply nodded.

"Yeah, I know."

And that was the end of it.

No justifications. No complaints. No sulking.

Instead, he finished the rest of his meal and then grinned, his eyes narrowing playfully.

"Can I have another one?"

By the time Mu-ryeong finished his second meal, Hwan-young had also eaten two trays, meaning their eating speed was actually the same.

After telling Mu-ryeong to stay put, Hwan-young cleaned up the table and disposed of the trash before handing Mu-ryeong a new toothbrush.

By the time Mu-ryeong finished brushing his teeth, it was already late—time to get ready for bed.

The long walk after school had eaten up a lot of time, and if they wanted to reach school in the morning, they would have to wake up at dawn.

"…It must be exhausting going to school from here."

The remark was genuine, but—as expected—it was completely ignored.

Hwan-young, however, frowned slightly, glancing at his bed as if debating something.

"Don’t you have a spare blanket?"

"I do, but…"

Then what was the problem?

If he didn’t want to share a room, he could just tell Mu-ryeong to sleep elsewhere.

But instead of kicking him out, Hwan-young said something completely unexpected.

"It’s thin."

"…"

Thin?

So?

Mu-ryeong nearly asked, "And? What’s the issue?"

It wasn’t freezing cold—the season was already shifting toward warm weather.

"Our school’s letting us wear summer uniforms starting next week."

He threw the comment out to break the tension, but Hwan-young wasn’t listening.

Mu-ryeong, curious, leaned forward slightly and looked up at him.

"I don’t get cold easily."

"…"

"I can sleep anywhere."

"…"

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

Hwan-young’s pitch-black eyes fixed on Mu-ryeong, his expression unreadable.

It was as if he were debating something internally, though Mu-ryeong had no idea what.

Tilting his head, Mu-ryeong waited for a response.

Hwan-young’s lips finally parted.

"For someone like you…"

The rest of the sentence never came.

Whatever he had intended to say was swallowed up before it could be voiced.

And instead, his brows furrowed, as if something had suddenly dawned on him.

"I’ll lay out a blanket for you."

With that, Hwan-young left the room without another word.

When he returned, he was carrying what appeared to be a thin summer blanket. Without hesitation, he spread a sleeping mat on the floor and placed the blanket from his bed on top of it.@@novelbin@@

"I’m supposed to sleep with this?"

"Yeah."

That was the end of the discussion.

All of Hwan-young’s hesitation from earlier had resolved itself so simply that it almost felt meaningless.

Mu-ryeong had no complaints. He laid down on the floor without protest, and as soon as Hwan-young confirmed that, he switched off the lights.

Darkness instantly swallowed the room.

Not a single streetlight could be seen outside the window—only a faint glow of moonlight seeped in.

As an exorcist, Mu-ryeong’s senses were far more developed than the average person’s. Even in total darkness, his vision was about three times clearer than normal.

So, of course, he could clearly see Hwan-young stepping past his feet and climbing onto the bed.

As soon as Hwan-young settled under his blanket, Mu-ryeong casually spoke up.

"Hey."

Even though the house was overflowing with spiritual energy, Mu-ryeong still felt something off.

The same unease that had settled over him the moment they entered this neighborhood.

"What time were you born?"

Lying on his back, Mu-ryeong blinked slowly at the ceiling.

He half-expected Hwan-young to ignore him, but a monotone voice soon answered.

"11:58 PM."

"Opposite of me, then. I was born during the day."

If Hwan-young had been born in the middle of the night, Mu-ryeong had been born at the peak of daylight.

His mother had often told him that he was born at the brightest time of day—as if that meant something special.

"When’s your birthday?"

This time, Hwan-young didn’t respond right away.

After a slight pause, a barely audible voice reached Mu-ryeong’s ears.

"March 1st."

March 1st, March 1st…

Repeating the date in his head, Mu-ryeong shifted slightly under his blanket.

"That’s close to mine. I was born on May 23rd."

There was a faint change in Hwan-young’s breathing.

A scoff? A sigh? It was hard to tell.

Still lying flat, he coolly questioned:

"What part of that is close?"

"Both of our birthdays already passed. So, close enough."

If Seung-joo had been here, he would’ve called it nonsense.

Mu-ryeong was pretty sure Hwan-young thought the same, but since he hadn’t said anything, Mu-ryeong let him have his moment of disbelief.

"…"

"…"

And just like that, the conversation ended.

There were no goodnights, no formalities—just silence gradually settling in.

The still air was completely undisturbed.

Mu-ryeong lay still, waiting for Hwan-young to fall asleep.

And waiting.

***

Three Hours Later

Mu-ryeong sat up soundlessly.

His blanket slid off, and he carefully pushed it aside, even holding his breath as he rose from the floor.

Turning his head slightly, he saw Hwan-young, still as death, deeply asleep.

Silently, Mu-ryeong lifted onto his toes and crept out of the room.

Opening the door was tricky, but thankfully, the hinges made no sound.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Mu-ryeong let out a long sigh of relief.

"Sorry… I won’t mess with anything else."

It was a quiet confession, spoken with as much sincerity as if he were praying.

Not that Hwan-young could hear him through the closed door, but—he wanted his intent to be known.

Then again, if Hwan-young truly understood what Mu-ryeong was about to do, it would be better if he remained unaware.

Shaking his head a few times, Mu-ryeong stepped forward.

By now, his eyes had fully adjusted to the dark, so navigating toward the living room was effortless.

Standing in the center of the room, Mu-ryeong extended his right hand.

Then, he whistled softly.

Fwoosh!

A blue flame ignited in his palm.

It flickered and twisted like it was dancing, as if delighted by his call.

"Tonight, we’re doing what you do best."

His voice was gentle, almost as if he were comforting a child.

The flames hovered in the air, crackling excitedly.

Mu-ryeong gave a small, apologetic smile.

"But… I don’t have any coins on me."

The fire froze.

Though it continued burning, its flames noticeably dimmed.

Mu-ryeong clasped his hands together, tilting his eyes down in a pleading expression.

"Sorry. I promise I’ll give you twice as much later."

The flame spun around, as if considering his words.

It twirled a few more times, like a figure skater on ice, before circling above Mu-ryeong’s head and finally settling back onto his palm.

It wasn’t happy, but it would cooperate for now.

"I need you to find a ghost."

Mu-ryeong’s voice dropped to a whisper, so quiet only the fire could hear it.

The flame blinked, pulsing once.

It flickered small, then surged up again—as if confidently showing off.

"All of them. Every spirit in this house."

Can you do that?

Before Mu-ryeong even finished the sentence, the flame vanished.

It had already gone off to do what it was told.

Tonight, Mu-ryeong would exorcise every lingering spirit in this house.