The Butterfly Immortal replied while casting a Taoist art that made people’s attention fade away.
“It’s an ability that lets you track where the owner of an object is and open a door that leads anywhere in the Seven Realms. Only Immortal Iri possesses it. I’ve lived for over two thousand years myself, but this is only the third time I’ve ever used Iri’s passage. The King personally ordered Iri to refrain from using it. It seems Iri is taking this matter quite seriously.”
Ah, so that was a passage.
Only then did Dojin realize that the wondrous Taoist art Iri had used when he was young had been a ‘passage’. Long ago, when Dojin had been kidnapped by a hostile faction within his family, Iri had appeared out of nowhere, rescued him, and after holding him close and taking just a few steps, they had already arrived home.
Dojin felt rather proud that even the Butterfly Immortal, who had lived two thousand years, was using a passage for only the third time—while he himself, having lived barely twenty years, was already experiencing it for the second time.
“Let’s go.”
Iri walked ahead. There was no door forming before them—just an ordinary tree-lined flower bed. Yet after Iri took a couple of steps, his figure vanished.
“Master!”
Dojin hurried after him, and the Butterfly Immortal and Jangmito followed behind with deep exclamations of awe.
The place they arrived at by tracing the persimmon tree leaves’ origin was a sparsely populated rural area. A feeble persimmon tree, barely supporting a few dry branches, greeted them. Iri slowly surveyed the countryside village, where only a single car could barely pass along the road, then moved forward without hesitation.
“Where are you going?” Dojin asked as he walked beside him.
“I sense something ominous over there. We should hurry.”
“I’ll carry you and run—ack! Master!”
Using ‘chukji’ (terrain-shrinking movement), Iri vanished in a single bound. Dojin awkwardly used the same technique to chase after him.
“Ugh, if everyone just goes off like that—”
“I can roughly tell where they went. Turn into a rabbit.”
“Yes, sir!”
Unable to use chukji, Jangmito went poof and transformed into a gray rabbit. The Butterfly Immortal scooped up the gray rabbit in his arms and fluttered through the air like a butterfly, descending into the yard of a dilapidated abandoned house.
Euhhh—euhhh—euhhh….
Hrrngh—hrrngh—hrrngh….
By the time they arrived, things were already over. Iri sat perched on a rock with a stern expression, while Dojin had bound two Wia with what was clearly a curio-like rope and forced them to kneel.
The two Wia were in human form, their faces pale and lips tinged purple. Both had hair that reached to their waists and wore neatly arranged hanbok, their expressions utterly terrified.
The Butterfly Immortal approached, stroking Jangmito.
“So they’re the Guests.”
These were the plague-spreading plague gods: Hoban Guest and Gaksi Guest.
“So it really was you who killed them. Why did you do it? Why didn’t you just spread it among the trash in your own village instead of coming to the Middle Realm and laying hands on my children who were living just fine?”
“Oh my, Immortal Lords. We didn’t do anything of the sort. We lived diligently, at most passing the plague onto rotting trees—then you suddenly appear! What kind of tyranny is this?”
“Does Princess Chalma know you pulled this kind of stunt?”
“A-Are you mad? Why would Princess Chalma even come up here? Are you trying to kill us?”
“Cut the excuses. I just followed your trail.”
The Butterfly Immortal shook the persimmon tree leaves.
Hoban Guest and Gaksi Guest prostrated themselves, insisting over and over that they had no idea what anyone was talking about. Holding the binding rope, Dojin whispered to Iri.
“Master, these bastards look like they’re going to play dumb till the end. Why don’t you just ask this Princess Chalma person directly?”
At first, the Guests paid no mind to the threat. They figured there was no way he’d actually contact Princess Chalma.
But then Iri took out the ‘Distant Butterfly’.
[Princess Chalma. Did you order the Guests to spread the plague?]
The moment he wrote the sentence and folded the paper, they could no longer remain calm.
“We’ll confess everything!”
“Please don’t tell the Princess!”
“If Her Highness finds out, we’re finished!”
“It’s collective punishment—we’re begging you!”
Dojin snorted.
“If you’re going to spill it anyway, do it quickly. You’re just wasting time.”
Iri burned the paper away and stood before the plague gods.
“Look into my eyes and speak.”
“…Aren’t you Immortal Iri? There is no being in this world who can utter a lie while meeting Immortal Iri’s gaze.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m telling you to look at me.”
“……”
Hoban Guest let out a long sigh. His black eyes, their surfaces cracked like spiderwebs, looked weakly at Iri.
“As you know, the Lower Realm is a difficult place to survive. Many small creatures that cannot endure its harsh environment flee to the Middle Realm to live. I’ve heard that Immortal Iri and the King both turn a blind eye to this.”
“That’s right. Go on.”
“But recently, strange things began happening to us small beings living in the Middle Realm. Entire villages were wiped out—three times in succession.”
“……”
“When we examined the causes ourselves, we were shocked to find that they had died from a plague. But as you know, long ago we lost Mun-gwanson to Lady Bak, and since then only Gaksi and I have been active. We’ve never created a new plague. It may sound odd for ghosts to say this, but isn’t it truly something to make even ghosts wail?”
Hoban Guest spoke while maintaining eye contact with Iri the entire time, their tone filled with grievance.
“We wanted to find out why this was happening, but if we told Princess Chalma, it would expose the fact that we’d been coming and going from the Middle Realm without permission. After much deliberation, we reported it to the Great Bandit.”
“The Great Bandit? You mean the Great Bandit of the Underground Nation?” the Butterfly Immortal asked in surprise.
Hoban nodded grimly, and Dojin asked Iri, “Who is this Great Bandit of the Underground Nation?”
“A Wia who created a country called the Underground Nation in the Lower Realm. Extremely violent, with immense power. He’s also one of Princess Chalma’s two direct subordinates.”
“And his classification? Evil God? Yokai?”
When Iri didn’t answer, Dojin tilted his head in confusion. Gaksi Guest, who had been silent, spoke up instead.
“The Great Bandit is neither an Evil God nor a yokai. He is a General.”
“A General….”
A General was the next classification after a Jangsa. Dojin’s eyes widened as he looked at Iri. Iri, who had been meeting Hoban Guest’s gaze, finally turned to Dojin. He let out a short sigh and explained.
“Just as not all humans are good—some are evil—the same goes for Taoists and Jangsa. There are evil Taoists and evil Jangsa. Those evil ones become evil Generals and evil Immortals…. The Great Bandit is one of them. And Princess Chalma herself was originally an Immortal.”
“I see. But why were you so reluctant to answer? If you’re worried I might be drawn to an evil General, there’s no need. I don’t want to become a General. I’ll become an Immortal—and then a King.”
“…I suppose that’s true.”
Iri smiled faintly.
Master and disciple faced each other, sharing gentle smiles. As an unexpectedly soft atmosphere bloomed in the midst of what should have been a grim interrogation, the Butterfly Immortal grew flustered.
“Iri…. You two are being very strange right now.”
“Most peculiar indeed.”
“Highly suspicious.”
Squeak, squeak. After the Guests, even the rabbit chimed in. Dojin grinned shamelessly, but Iri grew a bit embarrassed and sat back down on the rock.
Now that it was clear the guests weren’t lying, there was no longer any need to maintain eye contact.
“Continue.”
“…The Great Bandit did not dismiss our report. He sent spies into the True Mortal Realm to see whether similar incidents had occurred. In the process, he learned that something similar had happened recently to the Butterfly Immortal as well, and sent us to investigate. It seems that when we went to check that place last night, we accidentally dropped the leaves.”
The Butterfly Immortal yanked hard on the long tail of the rabbit he was holding.
“There’s a spy in my palace! What are my retainers even good for? If you can’t catch a single spy, stop mooching food off my palace and come live in the Middle Realm instead!”
Squeeeeak…. Jangmito burrowed into the Butterfly Immortal’s arms, crying pitifully.
“So in the end, you don’t know the cause of the plague either.”
“That is correct.”
At Dojin’s words, Hoban nodded and looked up at him.
“But you… from what I heard earlier, you seem to be a Jangsa. Is that right?”
“What’s it to you whether I am or not? Planning to spread a plague or something?”
“As if spreading a plague would work on a Jangsa….”
“Immortal Iri possesses unfathomable Taoist arts, an omnipotent curio, and even a fully grown Jangsa—there is nothing in this world for him to fear.”
Gaksi Guest spoke in a mocking tone. Their gaze carried both reverence and hostility.
“These plague god bastards, how dare they.”
Dojin’s eyes immediately turned bloodshot. As he tightened the binding rope further, Hoban and Gaksi screamed.
“Then why don’t you bastards work hard, build up virtue, and become Immortals yourselves? You put in zero effort, gorge yourselves on inferiority complexes, and then act proud of it. Aren’t you a joke? Master, what should we do with these assholes? Should we exterminate them? I’m really good at exorcism.”
“Leave them. Let’s head back. Our consultation time is up.”
“Yessir. Hey, you plague god bastards. You think you’re alive because you deserve it? You’re alive because my master is generous. You pieces of shit. If I catch you badmouthing my master anywhere, I’ll kill you with my own hands. Got it?”
