Seong-ah knelt quietly on the floor of the death room, the dim light of the afternoon filtering through the thin curtains, casting soft shadows over the polished wooden floor. In front of her sat the small black amulet, its surface dark and cold to the touch. She picked up her brush, dipped it into a pot of shimmering silver paint, and began to trace delicate symbols across the amulet, each stroke precise and filled with intent.
"This has to work," she whispered to herself, her voice low but firm. Her hands moved with the practiced grace of a shaman, each marking a protective charm designed to shield Gyeonwoo from Yeomhwa's dark magic, and to guard the soul of his beloved grandmother. The symbols seemed to glow faintly as she completed each intricate line, the energy of her spell beginning to pulse in quiet resonance with her heart.
Next, she turned her attention to the ashes box that held Gyeonwoo's grandmother. With care, she placed a small cloth she had enchanted over the box—a cloth imbued with layered spells of protection and guidance. The fabric shimmered faintly, wrapping the ashes in a gentle, protective cocoon. She whispered softly, invoking blessings and shields to keep the soul at peace, ensuring it would no longer be disturbed by dark forces like Yeomhwa.
Seong-ah's gaze softened as she looked at the amulet and the cloth, her heart heavy yet determined. "I will protect him, no matter what," she murmured, placing the black amulet gently in a small pouch to be delivered to Gyeonwoo. Her resolve hardened. Not only did she have to safeguard him from the curses and tricks of Yeomhwa, but she also had to ensure that the soul of his grandmother could finally rest in peace.
She stood slowly, her eyes lingering on the ashes box for a moment longer. The room was silent, save for the faint rustle of her robes, as if the spirits themselves were acknowledging her devotion. With a deep breath, she tucked the amulet safely into her pocket and stepped out of the death room, ready to face whatever challenges awaited her next.
The ritual continued in full force, the room filled with the pungent scent of burning herbs and amulets. Seong-ah moved with meticulous precision, lighting each protective charm on fire as she whispered the ancient incantations passed down by the Mother Goddess. The flames danced, casting flickering shadows across the walls, while the energy of the spells began to weave into the air, thickening it with a palpable sense of power and intent.
Meanwhile, far away, Yeomhwa drove Gyeonwoo in her sleek black car, the hum of the engine a low backdrop to her smirk. "Relax, boy, you're going to learn the price of meddling," she whispered almost playfully, her eyes glinting with malice. Outside, Jiho hissed under his breath, frustration clear in his voice. "Fuck… they left already." His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, but he knew he couldn't follow in time.
Yeomhwa reached Gyeonwoo's home and stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over his room. The familiar space, filled with hints of his daily life, didn't soften her heart in the least. Her eyes caught on the small robot that Jiho had gifted him—a human-powered amulet in disguise. Her lips curved into a wicked smile as she stepped closer, intent on sabotaging everything.
Before she could act further, Seong-ah appeared in the doorway, her presence commanding. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice steady but filled with warning. Yeomhwa raised an eyebrow, unfazed, and smirked, clearly enjoying the confrontation.
Back at the ritual site, the Mother Goddess worked tirelessly, lighting a row of candles that shimmered against the water, tossing fragments of enchanted herbs and metals into the ritual pool. As the pieces burned and the water shimmered, a thick black smoke rose, swirling with intent and malevolence. It stretched outward, connecting across the distance, moving like a sentient shadow directly toward Yeomhwa.
Yeomhwa laughed softly, confident in her own power. "Gyeonwoo will be newly dead soon enough," she whispered cruelly, a smirk playing on her lips as she glanced at him. But Gyeonwoo, steady and determined, held the old photos in his hands and, with a sense of finality, burned them one by one. The flames consumed the cursed memories, and the black smoke seethed, its path disrupted by the purity of intent and protection surrounding him.
Just as Yeomhwa turned to leave, Seong-ah stepped forward, her eyes blazing with righteous fury. "Why are you saying that he is newly dead?" she blurted, her voice cracking with anger and concern. At that moment, the black smoke, born of the Mother Goddess's ritual, struck Yeomhwa like a tangible force. She staggered, a violent chill overtaking her body, and blood began to seep from her nose and ears.
Seong-ah advanced, her voice sharp and unwavering. "See? You still wanted to die in hell?" she said, her gaze unflinching. The black smoke swirled around Yeomhwa, binding her momentarily as the combined power of the ritual and Seong-ah's protective amulets demonstrated the strength of their will.
Yeomhwa's smirk faltered, her arrogance shaken as the realization hit her: this time, she had underestimated the unity of those determined to protect Gyeonwoo.
Seong-ah let out a deep, weary sigh as her gaze fell upon Yeomhwa, who had collapsed to her knees, the remnants of the black smoke swirling faintly around her. Her eyes, once filled with arrogance and cruelty, now glimmered with a strange mix of defiance and despair. Seong-ah's voice was steady but carried a quiet authority as she asked, "Why don't you apologize to the deity for all the chaos you've caused?"
Yeomhwa lifted her head slightly, her smirk replaced by a cold, resigned expression. "Because I want to be in hell," she replied simply, her words sharp and final. Without another glance, she rose and walked away, her figure disappearing into the shadows, leaving behind only the echo of her defiance.
Jiho, who had been silently watching the scene unfold, let out a frustrated groan and called out, "Shit! I just fucked up the mess!" His voice carried a mix of panic and guilt, aware that the situation had escalated far beyond what he had anticipated.
Seong-ah turned to him calmly, her expression softening with reassurance. "Nothing. I took care of it. Don't worry," she replied, her voice carrying the quiet confidence of someone who had handled countless supernatural crises. Jiho exhaled, tension slowly leaving his shoulders, grateful for her steadfastness.
With the danger gone—for now—Seong-ah walked away, her thoughts momentarily drifting to Gyeonwoo.
Meanwhile, Gyeonwoo sat alone, the dim light of his room casting gentle shadows across his face. His fingers hovered over the lipcare stick Seong-ah had given him, the small object now glowing faintly in his mind with the weight of her care and concern. He stared at it, lost in thought, the memory of Seong-ah's gentle smile, her unwavering protection, and the warmth she had shown him flooding his mind.
A quiet ache filled his chest, a mixture of gratitude, longing, and confusion. Though the events of the past days had been chaotic and frightening, this small token of her affection reminded him that someone had truly cared for him, someone who had risked everything to protect him. Slowly, he clutched the lipcare stick tightly, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
For a brief moment, the world outside the room—the chaos, the black amulets, and the lingering threats—faded. All that remained was the quiet bond between him and Seong-ah, fragile yet unbreakable, a silent promise of protection, care, and the hope that, somehow, everything would be okay.
---
Yeomhwa moved silently toward the abandoned house, the shadows of the night stretching long across the cracked pavement. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene before her: dozens of amulets, glowing faintly with protective energy, hung from the eaves, walls, and windows. The door itself had been cleverly sealed with a small toy carved from wood, acting as a ward against intruders. Her lips curled into a sinister smile.
Without hesitation, she lunged forward and struck at the toy with force, her hands guided by malice and experience. The head of the wooden figure splintered under her blow, scattering tiny shards across the floor. Frustration flashed across her face, but she quickly recovered. She discarded the broken pieces and tied her own black amulet to the remaining body of the toy, letting the dark magic pulse through it. A faint aura of malevolence spread, seeping into the air, as if the toy itself had become a conduit for her malicious intent.
She stepped back, satisfaction glinting in her eyes, and disappeared into the night, leaving behind a subtle but dangerous shift in the protective barriers surrounding the house.
---
Next Day
Gyeonwoo stood before a large window, sunlight filtering through the glass and casting a warm glow across his room. He appeared lost in thought, his mind heavy with memories of the past days and the lingering tension between him and Seong-ah. Outside, shadows shifted unnaturally, and Seong-ah's watchful eyes caught a sudden movement.
A ghost appeared behind Gyeonwoo, its form faint but unmistakable—a lingering spirit drawn to his aura, perhaps sensing his vulnerability. Seong-ah's heart tightened with worry, and she instinctively turned to Jiho, signaling him with a sharp, urgent glance. Without hesitation, Jiho understood; he stepped forward and gently touched Gyeonwoo, channeling the protective energy that Seong-ah had taught him to use.
The ghost flinched as the aura reached it, and for a moment, the tension in the air thickened. Seong-ah's eyes were filled with a mix of fear and determination. She knew the delicate balance of magic and protection depended on timing, concentration, and unwavering courage. One wrong move, and the malevolent spirits—or even Yeomhwa's lingering influence—could cause irreversible harm.
Her heart beat fast as she silently prayed for Gyeonwoo's safety, willing him to remain unaware of the danger but fully protected. The bond they shared, fragile yet strong, was the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.
Later, after class
Hyerii stepped outside the classroom, her arms crossed and eyes sharp, scanning both Gyeonwoo and Jiho with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "What are you two doing? Do you even know how much effort you're supposed to be putting into this project?" she demanded, her tone a mixture of exasperation and authority.
Jiho shrugged lightly, his eyes glancing at Gyeonwoo. "Well, you're always right behind us. Did Seong-ah actually do the work?" he asked, curiosity evident in his voice.
Hyerii raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yes," she confirmed simply, as if expecting them to be surprised.
Jiho's eyes widened. "What? She actually did it?"
"Yes," Hyerii replied firmly. "And she did it properly. Beautifully, even. I don't know what you two have been doing all this time, but you better get moving. No more slacking off."
Both Gyeonwoo and Jiho exchanged guilty glances, knowing they had underestimated her—and Seong-ah's—efforts.
---
Meanwhile, in the classroom
Do Do-yeon and Seong-ah sat across from each other at a large table, the pictures spread out neatly between them. Each image contained a subtle ghostly presence, captured almost accidentally in moments that seemed mundane to the untrained eye.
"Do you know where the ghost is in these pictures?" Do Do-yeon asked, tilting her head curiously.
Seong-ah's eyes twinkled mischievously as she pointed to a small, almost invisible figure in the corner of one photo. "There," she said softly.
Do Do-yeon's eyes widened, a playful laugh escaping her lips. "Wow, you are really something—mischievous and fabulous at the same time," she exclaimed, clearly impressed by Seong-ah's keen observation.
Seong-ah's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile, but her thoughts drifted momentarily. As she admired her own work, her mind wandered to Gyeonwoo—the way he had grown, the kindness hidden beneath his stubbornness, and the moments they had shared. A warm, fleeting blush touched her cheeks as she thought about him, her smile deepening silently in remembrance.
The classroom buzzed quietly around them, but in that small bubble of shared focus, Seong-ah felt a connection—a delicate intertwining of friendship, duty, and something she wasn't quite ready to name.
Later, after class
Gyeonwoo's eyes followed Seong-ah as she walked out of the classroom, her steps light but purposeful. He wanted to call out to her, to reach her before she disappeared down the corridor, but before he could, Do Do-yeon stepped in.
"Hey, come on! Let's check out some ghost photos I found," she said, grabbing Seong-ah's hand and pulling her toward the basketball court. Seong-ah hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting around, but eventually followed, curiosity piqued.
As they reached the court, Jiho and Gyeonwoo were already playing on opposite teams, tossing the basketball back and forth with fierce concentration. Seong-ah stood at the sidelines, her attention flickering between the game and a subtle, eerie movement at the edge of her vision. A ghostly figure appeared, floating silently behind Gyeonwoo, its presence unnervingly quiet.
Seong-ah clapped her hands sharply, signaling Jiho to pay attention. Jiho, understanding her gesture, immediately ran over and wrapped Gyeonwoo in a quick, firm hug. Gyeonwoo's confusion was brief as Jiho repeated the action two more times, following Seong-ah's silent instructions. Meanwhile, Do Do-yeon was absorbed in her own world, pointing out tiny details in ghostly photographs she had collected.
The basketball flew across the court, landing neatly in the net. Seong-ah clapped again, this time in delight at Gyeonwoo's perfect shot. Jiho, misinterpreting her applause as encouragement for the hug, immediately rushed back to Gyeonwoo and embraced him once more, laughing awkwardly.
Suddenly, the air around Gyeonwoo thickened. Dozens of ghostly figures appeared behind him, each faceless—no eyes, no nose, no lips—just plain, featureless visages floating eerily in the dimming light. Seong-ah's heart raced. She clapped louder, her hands sharp and deliberate, trying to catch Jiho's attention again.
Jiho turned, following her frantic motions, and realized the danger. Gyeonwoo remained oblivious to the growing spectral crowd surrounding him, trusting only the signal of his friends. With a deep breath, Jiho moved closer to Gyeonwoo, ready to shield him once again from the faceless spirits that threatened to overwhelm the young archer.
Seong-ah's eyes widened as she watched, her mind racing. This is worse than I thought… I need to keep them away, or he won't even know what hit him. She clapped faster, louder, signaling Jiho to act quickly, her focus narrowing entirely on protecting Gyeonwoo from the ghostly horde.
Even after Jiho held Gyeonwoo tightly, the faceless ghosts didn't budge. Their eerie, silent presence lingered, making the air feel heavier, colder. Seong-ah's chest tightened as she realized that her efforts alone wouldn't be enough to protect him this time. With a deep sigh, she excused herself, murmuring softly, "I have to go home… I'll figure out another way."
Gyeonwoo watched her leave, a mix of confusion and concern etched across his face. His eyes followed her retreating figure until she disappeared from sight, leaving him standing amidst the fading echoes of the ghostly presence. The basketball court, once vibrant with energy, now felt strangely quiet, as if the ghosts themselves had retreated into the shadows.
After the game, both Jiho and Gyeonwoo walked to the fountain nearby to splash water on their faces, trying to wash off the sweat, exhaustion, and lingering tension. The cool water offered little relief from the anxiety that still clung to them. Just then, Do Do-yeon's phone rang. She handed it to Jiho without a word, a knowing smile on her lips.
"Jiho, Seong-ah wanted to say something," Do Do-yeon explained.
"Yes?" Jiho answered, curious.
Through the phone, Seong-ah's soft, strained voice came through. "Jiho… please, stay with Gyeonwoo today. The ghosts… they're targeting him again." There was a fragile urgency in her tone, a vulnerability that made Jiho's chest tighten. He could hear the worry in her words.
He nodded firmly. "Don't worry, Seong-ah. I'll stay with him. I've got this." He paused, then added awkwardly, "Your health… you shouldn't worry about it alone."
As he ended the call, Hyeri suddenly entered the scene, her presence brightening the tension. "Today, you both must work on the project at night as well," she said with authority and a playful smile.
Jiho's eyes lit up immediately. Staying with Gyeonwoo at night? That was exactly the chance he had been waiting for. Overcome with excitement, he hugged Hyeri impulsively, causing her to blush and step back in surprise. Hyeri's cheeks burned a soft pink, while Jiho grinned, completely oblivious to her embarrassment.
Gyeonwoo watched the exchange with a small, quiet smile. Even amidst the stress and chaos surrounding him, he could feel the steady support of his friends. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how Seong-ah was faring—alone, fighting her own battles to keep him safe.
Night had fallen, and the corridors of the school were eerily quiet. Gyeonwoo and Jiho walked carefully, carrying their project materials. The faint glow of the moonlight streaming through the windows barely lit their path.
Jiho glanced nervously at the shadows. "Gyeonwoo… why do we always have to do these things at night? It's like we're in some horror movie."
Gyeonwoo grunted. "Because apparently ghosts only come out at night. Don't blame me."
As they reached the library, a faint, eerie hum filled the air. Ghostly figures drifted in corners, some hovering, some peeking from behind shelves. The baby ghost attached to Do Do-yeon's leg yawned, eyes wide and sparkling faintly.
Jiho froze. "Uh… not normal. Definitely not normal."
Before Gyeonwoo could respond, Jiho panicked as a ghost floated too close and shoved him into a pile of books. "Aah! It's attacking me!" he shouted, flailing his arms. Gyeonwoo rolled his eyes and helped him up. "It's not attacking, it's just… floating."
Then, Jiho spotted a ghost floating directly behind Gyeonwoo. In a spur-of-the-moment panic, he lunged forward and hugged Gyeonwoo from behind. "Protect you! Protect you!" he yelled.
Gyeonwoo froze. "What are you doing?!" he shouted, twisting to push Jiho off, but Jiho held on, screaming, "It's for your safety!"
Meanwhile, the ghosts seemed amused, some spinning lazily, others bumping into stacks of books. Jiho slipped on a loose sheet of paper, sliding across the floor, arms flailing like a cartoon character. "I'm fine! Totally fine!"
Gyeonwoo groaned, rubbing his temples. "Why does my life have to be like this?"
Jiho scrambled to his feet, pointing dramatically at a floating ghost. "I command you to behave! Or face my wrath!" The ghost tilted its head, unimpressed, then drifted lazily toward the corner.
Finally, after nearly twenty minutes of chaos, the baby ghost settled quietly on Do Do-yeon's leg, and the other restless spirits seemed to retreat. Gyeonwoo slumped against a table, dripping sweat. "Next time… I'm doing this project in broad daylight."
Jiho leaned over with a grin. "Or you could just hire me as your ghost bodyguard. I'm very effective… sometimes."
Gyeonwoo muttered under his breath, "I need a vacation… a very long vacation."
Jiho whispered with mock seriousness, "Me too. But don't worry—tonight you survived, so it counts as a win!"
Later that night, Gyeonwoo finally collapsed onto his bed, exhausted from the day's chaos. His eyes were heavy, but the tension of the ghosts and the project still lingered in his muscles. Jiho, ever the overzealous friend, wasn't done yet.
He tiptoed into the room, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. "Just to make sure he's… safe," Jiho muttered to himself, inching closer to the sleeping Gyeonwoo. Before Gyeonwoo could protest, Jiho reached out and gently rested his hand on Gyeonwoo's arm—more to reassure himself than anything else.
But Gyeonwoo stirred, groaning. "What… Jiho…?"
Jiho froze. "Shh… I'm just checking. You know… in case any ghosts sneak in."
Gyeonwoo's eyes shot open, narrowing. "Ghosts aren't coming for me right now, Jiho!"
Jiho, undeterred, climbed onto the bed like some determined guardian and began softly stroking Gyeonwoo's hair. "There, there… sleep well, dear friend. You've had a long day."
Gyeonwoo flinched. "Jiho! What are you—stop—hey!" He kicked Jiho lightly but firmly, sending him tumbling off the bed with a surprised yelp.
Jiho landed on the floor, ruffling his hair and glaring up at Gyeonwoo. "I was just helping you sleep!"
Gyeonwoo sat up, arms crossed, looking half amused, half exasperated. "Helping me sleep? By invading my personal space and stroking my hair like some guardian angel? Seriously?"
Jiho scrambled to his feet, hands raised in mock surrender. "Fine! Fine! I'll stay off your hair. But just remember, I was only trying to be considerate!"
Gyeonwoo flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. "Considerate… yeah, right. Just let me sleep."
Jiho, shaking his head, backed toward the door. "Fine, fine. Sleep tight, buddy. Don't let the ghosts bite… or the bedbugs, for that matter!"
As Jiho disappeared, Gyeonwoo muttered under his breath, "I need better friends… or a much bigger bed."
The room finally settled into silence, save for Gyeonwoo's slow breathing—and the faint memory of Jiho's overprotective antics lingering in the shadows.
That evening, the air around the abandoned house thickened with tension. Faceless ghosts began to materialize, hovering silently, their plain, featureless faces reflecting only the faintest light of the setting sun. Mother Goddess, Do Ryeong, and Seong Ah stood at the threshold, eyes sharp, ready for whatever darkness was about to erupt.
Without a word, the three of them moved as one, engaging the spirits with a mixture of chants, rituals, and swift movements. Seong Ah's hands glowed faintly as she threw protective amulets, Do Ryeong swung his ritual staff with precision, and Mother Goddess called upon the ancient forces to banish the restless apparitions. The battle raged on, shadows dancing against the crumbling walls as night enveloped them.
When the last ghost finally dissipated, exhausted but vigilant, the trio shifted their focus. They began searching for the thrown head—the cursed artifact that had unleashed the faceless spirits. Do Ryeong's hands eventually closed around it, the cold surface heavy with dark energy.
Seong Ah, her chest heaving from exertion and adrenaline, slowly brought a knife to her wrist, slicing delicately, deliberately. Crimson welled up, trickling down as she muttered, "The threat of tit for tat… Yeomhwa did it with blood, so I must respond in kind."
Mother Goddess froze for a moment, concern and curiosity warring in her eyes. "Why… why are you doing this, Seong Ah?"
Her voice steady, Seong Ah explained, her words carrying the weight of a lifetime of pain. "When I was small, my parents forced me to perform shamanic rituals. Each time I succeeded, they profited; each time I failed, I was punished. They locked me in a room to habituate me to the spirits, to make amulets, to bend me to their will. I learned from the start that blood and sacrifice were the only ways to survive."
A shadow passed over her face, a flash of vulnerability. "There was one day… after they finally got some money from my efforts, they kicked me out of the house. I remember crying, but no one came. It felt like the world had abandoned me." Her voice wavered. "Then Mother Goddess… she took me in, treated me as her own. She raised me, protected me, loved me, even when I had no one else."
Do Ryeong, overcome by the intensity of her confession, wiped his eyes dramatically, shaking his head as if struck by her story. Slowly, the tension melted into a shared warmth. They drew close, wrapping Seong Ah in a protective embrace. Mother Goddess rested her hands gently on Seong Ah's shoulders, and Do Ryeong leaned in, theatrically sniffing at her sleeve like a guardian who had found a lost sibling.
For a moment, amidst the night and lingering shadows, they were just three souls bound together—scarred by their pasts, strengthened by trust, and united in purpose.
Seong Ah exhaled, letting her tears mingle with the night air, and for the first time in a long while, felt truly protected, truly understood.
Later at midnight, Jiho finally found a quiet moment with Gyeonwoo, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, exhaustion and frustration etched on his face. Jiho's expression was serious, tinged with nervousness as he spoke.
"Gyeonwoo… I need to tell you something," Jiho began, his voice steady but earnest. "I'm doing this… everything I've been doing… it's to protect you."
Gyeonwoo frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Protect me? What do you mean?"
Jiho took a deep breath, gripping the small amulet in his hand—the one Seong Ah had entrusted him with. "Seong Ah told me to… she wanted me to stay close to you, to make sure nothing bad happens. Even if you don't see it, even if you don't believe it… I've been trying to keep you safe."
Gyeonwoo blinked, stunned into silence. His chest tightened with a mix of relief and confusion. "All this… for me?" he asked softly.
Jiho nodded, a faint smile breaking through his serious demeanor. "Yes. You'll understand everything tomorrow. For now… just trust me, trust what Seong Ah said. I'm doing this because I care about you."
Gyeonwoo's hands clenched the edge of the bed as he tried to process Jiho's words. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a spark of warmth amid the darkness surrounding him. Jiho's gaze met his, firm and reassuring.
"You'll get to know tomorrow," Jiho repeated, echoing Seong Ah's earlier words. "But tonight… just know that you're not alone."
The next day, Seong Ah walked briskly down the narrow, sunlit street on her way to school. Her mind was occupied with the morning lessons, the lingering memories of the previous day, and the subtle tension she always felt around Gyeonwoo. Suddenly, her attention snapped to a commotion ahead.
An older man, weathered and fierce-eyed, was violently attacking Kim Jun Ung. Bok I, Do Doyeon's white dog, barked furiously at the man, fur bristling. Seong Ah's eyes narrowed, and she whispered sharply, "Bite him!" As if understanding, Bok I lunged forward, snapping and growling, forcing the old man to stagger back.
Just then, Gyeonwoo appeared behind Seong Ah, concern flashing across his face. "No—I didn't do anything!" she yelled, eyes wide, and before he could reply, she dashed away from the scene, disappearing into the crowd. Moments later, Kim Jun Ung's phone rang. His voice trembled as he spoke: "The old man… he escaped from jail. He's coming after me again!"
Seong Ah's heart skipped a beat as she realized the danger. Far down the street, Kim Jun Ung was running frantically, his footsteps echoing against the pavement. The old man appeared like a shadow in pursuit, relentless and cruel. Kim Jun Ung's legs carried him faster and faster, until he finally reached the abandoned house—the one notorious for strange happenings and rituals long forgotten. In desperation, he smashed the heavy wooden door open and stumbled inside.
The abandoned house loomed with its decaying walls and dust-choked air. In the center of the hall, a solitary, gnarled tree had grown through the floorboards. Kim Jun Ung collapsed near it, his body shaking and whimpering as consciousness slipped away from him.
Seong Ah arrived moments later, her heart hammering. She immediately called Mother Goddess and Do Ryeong, her voice tight with urgency. The door creaked under her touch, the eerie stillness of the house pressing against her chest. Inside, she saw Kim Jun Ung lying unconscious on the cold floor. She crouched beside him, shaking him gently, calling his name, but he remained unresponsive.
Meanwhile, Gyeonwoo and Jiho rushed to the scene. The heavy door had locked itself in some cursed force, barring them entry. From the other side, they could hear Seong Ah's panicked calls echoing through the house. Jiho hefted a jagged rock, trying to smash the door open, while Gyeonwoo braced himself, kicking repeatedly. His foot struck a small, sinister toy lying on the ground—a cursed object placed there deliberately. Sparks of dark energy flared around him as he stepped on it, but finally, the door gave way. Gyeonwoo stepped inside, reaching out to grab Kim Jun Ung, steadying him by the shoulder.
Seong Ah's eyes fell on a dark amulet glowing faintly on the floor. Her chest tightened, and her hands froze in mid-air. The amulet's power radiated a chilling warning: Gyeonwoo's body would now be haunted. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "Why do you have to do this to him?" But her words fell into the air too late.
Gyeonwoo's body moved with a strange, unnatural grace, eyes glazed and hollow. He walked toward the back of the hall where a tall, cracked mirror reflected the flickering light. A chilling, cold smile played on his lips.
"Oh, hi, Shaman," he said, his voice eerily calm—but it was no longer Gyeonwoo speaking.
Seong Ah staggered back, her heart clenching in terror and helplessness. The boy she knew, the one she had risked everything to protect, was gone.