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Translator: uly
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Set Up a Shrine Here? (1)
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There are places famous for being haunted.
Typically, places like cemeteries, abandoned schools, or haunted houses.
Lost spirits wander there, and some even settle down and become land-bound spirits.
And right now, I was standing at the entrance to one such place: a cemetery.
As expected of a spot near a cemetery, the path leading here only showed traces of human habitation.
"So... this is where those who participated in the Great War are buried, right?"
"That's right."
"Keh heh..."
Parmon had been laughing like that the entire way here.
I had no idea what was so amusing, but he kept chuckling nonstop.
Up close, he even smelled faintly of alcohol.
"And this blue gem came from here too?"
"It was embedded in the sword of that statue at the entrance."
"Hmm..."
Looking closer, there was a groove in the sword's hilt shaped perfectly for the gem.
According to Closel, when he'd come to pay respects to his old comrades, the gem had fallen out and rolled to his feet.
"Umm... this statue..."
The face looked familiar.
It was the man who had single-handedly held off ferocious monsters at the breached castle gate.
One of the people from the scene the gem had shown me.
"Gismond, was it...?"
"Do you know who this is?"
"This fellow Gismond was incredibly brave. Is his spirit still here too?"
I shook my head firmly at Closel and Parmon's questions.
"He doesn't seem to be around here."
"What a shame..."
"Maybe... he's inside..."
I could sense a great deal of spiritual energy from deeper within the cemetery.
Whether in Korea or this fantasy world, cemeteries always seemed to be full of ghosts.
"Let's go a bit further in."
"Very well."
Unlike Closel and Parmon, who followed without complaint, the count still looked deeply uncomfortable.
"In the county, plenty of people know of Sir Gismond. You must have heard of him somewhere."
"...You'll know soon enough."
Even at Parmon's words, the count merely bowed his head slightly, his wariness toward me unchanged.
He was more suspicious than he appeared.
"Hmm..."
The deeper we went into the cemetery, the stronger the spiritual energy grew.
But strangely, not a single soul was visible.
There weren't even any graves.
"Where are they all buried?"
"Well, you see..."
Closel began to explain.
Right after the war ended, they had collected the bodies, but few were identifiable.
Most were severed limbs or headless torsos, impossible to match to their owners.
"After that, all the bodies were buried in one place. The fighting went on endlessly, so we couldn't even make proper graves."
"That explains why I don't see any."
A little further in, we came upon a massive stele engraved with tiny names.
"We erected this stele to at least express our gratitude to them."
"This line here is the knights who fought alongside me."
"My respects to these heroic veterans."
"Er... umm... uh..."
While they poured out their heartfelt words, I could only stand there mumbling like an idiot.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Did you see something? Are there spirits lingering here, like before?"
"Yes... they... they are lingering, but... what the hell is..."
In all my life seeing spirits, this was a first.
Behind the massive stele, as if contained by it like a barrier, were hundreds of souls.
"This is..."
The souls gathered in small groups, peeking at us before rushing over all at once.
Toward Closel and Parmon.
"Sirs, aren't you cold at all?"
"At our level, we don't feel such things."
"...I'm actually a bit hot."
"Heavens, what is this? Not even ghosts, but still... what's going on?"
There was no resentment toward anyone.
The souls even wore faint smiles.
Not the terrifying grin of the scariest ghosts.
That kind was born of madness, not this gentle warmth.
So why were these souls still here?
I waved my hand in the air and called out.
"Um... elders?"
Swoosh.
Swoosh.
- .....?
- ....?
The souls turned puzzled expressions toward me.
Spirits who couldn't even recognize my spiritual stature—why had they stayed?
"Why haven't you all passed on?"
- ....
The souls I'd addressed slid closer, peering into my face one by one.
Soon my vision was filled with their faces.
And among them was the one I'd just seen.
"Ah, you there, elder—are you Sir Gismond?"
Whoosh.
Gismond's face drew nearer.
"Umm... not too close, please..."
It was overwhelming.
Starting from his empty eye socket, a long scar crossed his face.
"Keh heh... Gismond, are you there?"
Parmon scanned the air around him and asked me.
"Is he right here?"
"No, that's someone else's arm. He's moved right in front of you now. About twenty souls over? That way—no eyes. A little to the right..."
They must have known Parmon in life.
Souls began clustering around Closel too.
"Good grief..."
The souls clinging to Parmon pointed at his bosom and said something to me.
"In there... booze? You have alcohol?"
No wonder he reeked of it.
Perfect timing.
These souls were licking their lips—they were thirsty for it.
Offering alcohol to the dead was an ancient tradition, after all.
"This?"
"They seem to want some booze... come here a moment."
Parmon approached with an intrigued look.
"Can spirits drink alcohol too? ...I should have shared earlier."
Amber liquid sloshed in the clear glass bottle.
Whiskey-like, but in this fantasy world, it could substitute for rice wine, right?
"It's not exactly drinking... umm..."
I struggled to explain—the concepts were lacking here.
No incense, no cups.
But their friendly faces suggested formality wasn't needed.
"Bring that over and pour it on the stele."
"On the stele?"
"Yes. Circle the bottle three times first, then pour."
Ever seen cups circled three times in a ritual?
Some say it represents the seasons; others, blessings for the soul's journey.
In the end, it's all about the heart.
And spirits drink in that heart through the alcohol.
Glug glug—
Amber liquid poured from the bottle.
"Not knowing any better, it's been decades since I last offered booze. Let's drink together."
I didn't know what heart Parmon poured into it.
But as the alcohol spread his feelings, admiration and sorrow lit the souls' faces.
Having glimpsed his life and drunk his emotions, the spirits looked utterly warmed.
"Hey, Ramon, let me try that too."
"Save some to drink on the way down."
After Closel poured as well, the souls perked up, moving energetically as if refreshed.
"How is it? Good stuff?"
"They love it. Now they should be on their way..."
I'd poured the booze, but they showed no sign of passing on.
Usually, you'd sense grudges or regrets, but these hid theirs tightly.
"Elders, time to pass on now, okay?"
- ....
- ....
"I said go!"
But they just shook their heads, showing no other reaction.
The soul named Gismond slid toward me.
"Tsk tsk... staying this long won't let you do anything."
Even then, Gismond just nodded once.
Nod.
"That's why you all gathered here... so I'd come."
The gem that rolled to Closel.
And me following it here.
Now it was clear.
Hundreds of souls clustered like this had a massive impact on the surroundings.
Their yin energy flowed down the mountain to the villages below.
So people instinctively avoided building here.
"Someone has to block this... and it's me."
Shrines are usually built in spiritually potent or pure places.
But great shamans sometimes sacrifice themselves in heavy yin spots to seal the energy.
This was fate pointing me to do just that...
"So my 'great fortune' was knowing where to build the shrine?"
Why was my luck always like this...?
Suddenly, the 100,000 won I'd found before coming here came to mind.
That had been about helping someone too...
"Tsk... my fate's too strong. Even for a shaman... You elders knew, didn't you? That's why you stayed behind the stele."
Nod.
Nod.
They knew.
They weren't harmful spirits, so why stay?
"Wait a bit. Once I seal the spiritual energy, it'll be easier for you to rest."
This was a mountain in the county.
Remote, no human traffic.
Set up a shrine here?
I'd starve for sure.
How would people who don't even know shamans exist find this place?
I glanced around and caught the count staring at me openly suspicious now.
"No matter how I look at it, I can't trust you."
From his view, I must look like a white-haired lunatic muttering to thin air.
If not for Parmon vouching, Parmon would seem like a deluded old fool too.
"Haa..."
Suspecting me like that would bring him bad luck...