“It would’ve been nice if you could’ve met Immortal Gisudo. Unfortunately, he’s away on a long business trip right now. I’ll have to brag to him once he gets back.”
“On a business trip? That’s rare. Where to?”
“Romania. It’s nothing major, so you don’t need to worry. But more importantly—what brings you here? If it’s serious enough for you to come in person, I’m starting to get nervous…. You’re not here to challenge me to a duel of Taoist arts, are you?”
“What kind of nonsense is that out of nowhere.”
“I heard you crushed Gangnim Herald with your Taoist arts not too long ago.”
“So the rumor really did spread,” Iri muttered, rubbing his dry face. Jeon Woochi stroked his beard, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“That was rather un-Immortal-like of you—intervening in a children’s squabble. That’s more something the Butterfly Immortal would do.”
“At the time, I had no choice.”
“You were protecting your disciple, weren’t you? No matter how childish the fight was, if your disciple was about to get seriously hurt, standing by would’ve been the real wrongdoing. You did the right thing, Master!”
Iri grew even more embarrassed at his disciple’s praise.
“Let’s talk business. I have something I want you to handle.”
“If it’s business…. It must be related to an Evil God, yes?”
“That’s right.”
Iri summarized the sequence of events, trimming it down to the essentials.
Jeon Woochi sighed, humming softly as he stroked his beard.
“I agree—it sounds more like the work of a shaman than an exorcist. And we’ll need to visit the dokkaebi village separately to question them.”
“You handle that as you see fit. As for the Evil God called Berimos—sounds like this is your first time hearing of it too.”
“Yes. Judging by the name, I’d guess it’s a Western Evil God.”
That matched Dojin’s thoughts as well. Iri furrowed his elegant brows.
“If a Western Evil God were rampaging around the Middle Realm and the Lower Realms, the Eastern Evil Gods wouldn’t just sit back and watch….”
“They may simply be unaware of it yet. Evil Gods tend to be solitary by nature and rarely interact with one another.”
Jeon Woochi rose from his seat.
“For now, I’ll give you a list of shamans who have received Evil Gods over the past hundred years.”
He turned on the laptop on his desk. After a few clicks of the mouse, the printer hummed—whirrr—and began printing. Five pages.
“Excluding the Evil Gods currently detained by the Podo Office, there are three shamans who’ve received Evil Gods and are actively operating.”
“That’s more than I expected. Why haven’t they been arrested?”
“Even if we detain them, new ones will just emerge. From the Podo Office’s standpoint, it’s easier to manage if existing Evil Gods circulate than if rogue shamans start creating and summoning new Evil Gods all over the place.”
Jeon Woochi returned with the printed pages. Iri didn’t move a finger so Dojin took the printouts instead.
“On the last page, there’s a shaman named Lee Ah-jin. I suggest you keep a close eye on her.”
Dojin lifted the final page so Iri could see it comfortably.
Lee Ah-jin, 23 years old. Pale skin, dark circles beneath her eyes, and a dull, lifeless gaze. Her shoulder-length hair looked unkempt and frizzy.
“She resisted spirit possession for a long time, but late last year she accepted an Evil God and became a shaman. That Evil God is ‘Maninsa’.”
“Maninsa….”
Maninsa was a serpent Evil God that had settled on the Korean Peninsula since ancient times. It fed on humans and committed brutal, horrifying acts—so much so that it had been imprisoned by the Podo Office more than ten times.
“Master, why don’t we just kick those bastards out into the Lower Realms? Can’t we make them all gather down there and live among themselves?”
“It’s not that simple. If we try to expel all the Evil Gods, they’ll demand that the divine spirits leave as well. And if the divine spirits disappear, the human realm will fall into chaos.”
“Well, I mean—why not kick them out first and then occupy the Middle Realm ourselves? Just because they tell us to leave doesn’t mean we have to listen.”
“Hahaha.” Jeon Woochi laughed.
“Are you suggesting a war? That’s very Jangsa-like of you—arrogant and radical.”
His gaze, filled with interest, wasn’t directed at Dojin, but at Iri.
“So this is the sort of person you’ve registered as a candidate for King?”
“Dojin will manage just fine. There’s no need to worry.”
“I’m not worried. I trust your judgment and choices completely, Immortal…. However, Kim Dojin, it would be wise for you to be more mindful of your words and actions, lest you tarnish your master’s name. If I were Immortal Iri’s disciple, I’d be cautious at all times.”
“…….”
Dojin jutted out his lips in a pout. His eyes, tinged with red, brimmed with defiance. Still, he didn’t talk back—and having watched Dojin since childhood, Iri considered even this a sign of significant growth.
After discussing the Evil God a bit more, they stood to leave.
“Don’t tell just anyone about what we talked about today.”
“Understood. The Podo Office is crawling with spies from the Lower Realms, so we must be careful. And Immortal—though I know these words may be meaningless to you—please take care of yourself.”
“They really are meaningless.”
“I’ve heard that body of yours requires proper sleep. Kim Dojin, make sure you take good care of your master. If he tries to sneak out on another night walk, stop him no matter what.”
“I’ll handle it myself, so mind your own business when it comes to my master.”
Dojin scowled, throwing out a thug-like glare in intimidation. Jeon Woochi simply shook his head slightly, as if there was no helping it, and ended the conversation.
Just as when he’d come out to greet them, he walked them all the way outside the building to see them off. Even up until the moment they got into the car, everything about him—his expression, tone, demeanor, and actions—was steeped in deep respect and reverence toward Iri.
“So, how was it seeing Jeon Woochi in person?” Iri asked on the way back to the rental shop.
“He’s not an evil-genius type at all. Other than that, I felt absolutely nothing. He was just… painfully ordinary.”
Dojin puffed up his pride to the fullest. Iri tilted the corner of his eyebrow.
“Even those trivial remarks count as lies.”
“No, seriously. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been Team Hong Gil-dong, not Jeon Woochi. Hong Gil-dong—you know, the guy who couldn’t call his father ‘Father’ or his brother ‘Brother.’ That’s peak. Jeon Woochi doesn’t have that kind of narrative. He’s shallow and—”
“King Hong, hm. There’s a major event held once every hundred years in Yuldo Island coming up soon. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to greet King Hong then.”
“A festival? That sounds awesome. Let’s definitely go.”
Dojin resolved to spend an unforgettable festival with Iri this summer.
But for that to happen, the Evil God and curse incident would have to be resolved cleanly beforehand.
A Dragon Horse only needed its reins held to find its own way, so Dojin pulled out his phone. He planned to look into the shaman named Lee Ah-jin. When he searched on a portal site, a profile popped up unexpectedly. It was sparse—no birthplace listed, only family relations—but the family name was strikingly familiar, and it came with a link.
“Master!”
Dojin hurriedly pulled the printout from his chest and passed it to Iri in the back seat.
“Look at Lee Ah-jin’s family relations!”
[Family: Older brother, Lee Seokjin]
“She’s Lee Seokjin’s sister!”
“That Lee Seokjin? The celebrity?”
“Yes!”
Dojin handed his phone to Iri as well. Unlike Dojin, who was visibly shocked, Iri calmly reviewed the information.
He’d already been mentally preparing himself to hear that name again soon.
“You said the research group Lee Seokjin belongs to was called ‘Saeboreum’—or ‘Saeboreumi’. And the Evil God’s name is Berimos….”
Dojin sucked in a sharp breath.
“Saeboreumi was Berimos. It was an anagram!”
In his excitement, Dojin slammed the steering wheel hard, making the Dragon Horse blare its horn in pain.
[ (╬▔皿▔)╯ ]
“Ah—sorry.”
Dojin rubbed the spot he’d hit and rattled off words like a machine gun.
“What the hell are those bastards plotting? Weren’t they just a ‘ghost-hunting video’ club? They’re just humans and a shaman—why the fuck are they acting so high and mighty? What do we do? Should we storm Lee Seokjin’s place right now?”
“For now, we’ll delegate the investigation.”
As always, the ones Iri entrusted investigations to were the divine spirits.
[School Professor, Apothecary]
[School Professor
Huh?]
[School Professor, look into the human celebrity Lee Seokjin and the ‘Saeboreumi Research Group’ and email me what you find.]
[School Professor
…Yes, sir.]
[Apothecary
Huh…?]
[Apothecary
Is this related to that Evil God—Berimo-whatever, Berimos or something?]
[Probably.]
[Apothecary
Holy shit…]
[Apothecary
Things are getting real weird. Out of nowhere, Lee Seokjin?]
[School Professor
I liked Lee Seokjin because he’s a good actor…]
[I don’t know if he’s a bad person or not. I’m just trying to find out what happened.]
[School Professor
I accept the Immortal’s command~~!]
[School Professor
But seriously, look at those Haeso and Joja bastards staying quiet like dead mice at a time like this.]
[Apothecary
XD XD XD XD XD]
[Apothecary
Joja’s always quiet, but Haeso’s not gonna get away with this XD]
Iri scanned the laughter-filled chat window with his eyes and then turned off the screen.
Contrary to how dire things had seemed, all the dokkaebi were alive, and they’d uncovered more clues than expected—so his heart didn’t feel heavy. More than anything, what was strange was that despite a terrifying incident involving curses spread by humans connected to an Evil God, he didn’t feel particularly anxious.
Iri’s intuition was usually uncannily accurate. It was a relief that this didn’t seem likely to spiral into something overwhelmingly complex—but he couldn’t understand why it didn’t feel ominous at all.
“Master, if it comes down to it, I’ll go meet Lee Seokjin myself.”
“And what would you do by meeting him in person?”
“Well, you know how those exorcism-video otakus usually recognize my face, right? They worship me like a god. I might uncover the conspiracy way more easily than you’d expect. Humans seem complicated, but they’re fucking simple. Crack their heads one by one and they’ll be on their knees begging, ‘I’ll never do it again!’ Just trust me.”
“Absolutely not. Don’t hit anyone.”
“I won’t punch them. I’ll hit them with this—this paper, this printout. Getting smacked with paper can’t hurt that much, right? You know I’m good at controlling my strength. Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll handle all the annoying stuff, so you just get some sleep, Master, until we reach the shop—ah, what? Only three minutes left? Why is it so fast? Master, sleep for just three minutes. Close your eyes. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”
Iri smiled faintly.
Perhaps the reason he wasn’t being swallowed by a sense of foreboding was because of this simple, endearing disciple by his side.
