Demonic energy—magi—was the essence of Chaos and the root of all monsters. There were only two known reasons it might appear in a human.
The first: subordinates seduced by the Paladins of Chaos, devoted followers who willingly submitted themselves. In Mak Slechth, such people were called traitors or apostates. But Tae Woon wasn’t one of them. Kim Sibaek would’ve noticed long ago if he were. More than that—he trusted him.
Tae Woon would never sell out humanity.
That left only one possible explanation.
Kim Sibaek steadied his spinning head and said slowly,
“Lord Biendeoé, you should leave.”
[Death and Beauty quickly leaves after telling my Apostle not to push himself.]
The magi was overwhelmingly thick. It wouldn’t do any good for a young god to remain exposed while in her Incarnate Body. Understanding his concern, Biendeoé gave him one last, worried look and quietly left the room.
“I’m… fine…”
Tae Woon, barely regaining consciousness, tried to push Kim Sibaek away—but his arm collapsed limply. The magi surrounding him pulsed even darker. He must’ve been suppressing it this whole time, keeping it contained so it wouldn’t spill out.
But since when?
Kim Sibaek tried to calm himself, but the dread had already taken root. The shock of seeing Tae Woon collapsed overlapped with the memory of him coughing up blood at the amusement park, slicing through his mind like a blade.
Only then did he realize—his hands, raised in prayer, were shaking. He pressed his entire palm over his unsteady, racing heart and forced his breathing to slow. If he lost control now, who else could help Tae Woon?
He steadied his voice and began muttering a low prayer. A barrier began forming around Tae Woon, sealing in the magi. His erratic breathing gradually eased.
As Tae Woon relaxed slightly, Kim Sibaek tightened his grip on his hand, stopping him from pushing away again. The moment their skin touched, the magi surged stronger. Kim Sibaek removed the glove from Tae Woon’s left hand.
“……”
It was the first time he’d seen Tae Woon’s bare hand—and not just the hand. Even his fingernails were pitch-black, corroded by magi.
Kim Sibaek squeezed his eyes shut. His worst suspicion was hardening into certainty. He pulled back the sleeve and saw the wrist was stained black too. Without hesitation, he started unbuttoning the shirt.
“Hyung, suddenly doing this… it’s kinda embarrassing.”
Tae Woon joked weakly, trying to wriggle away. But his body had no strength. His limbs wouldn’t respond.
Kim Sibaek stripped the shirt with ease. Even though he had prepared himself, he couldn’t help but inhale sharply at the sight.
The magi had rooted itself near Tae Woon’s heart. A dense black mass had formed there, spreading out like veins, consuming his entire body from the inside.
He finally understood the true nature of the black tattoo peeking out from Tae Woon’s collar. The rest of his left side—hidden under his pants—must’ve been completely corrupted too.
His mind reeled. This wasn’t the result of a year or two of exposure. And the fact that he hadn’t noticed a single symptom? That realization hit like a truck. Tae Woon always seemed calm, unbothered. But just how desperately had he been suppressing the storm churning inside him?
Even if no one else could tell—he should have. As a priest, he should have known.
Their eyes met. Tae Woon looked away with a resigned expression.
“…You weren’t just poisoned during the Xiangliu hunt in Busan, were you?”
It wasn’t a question—it was a confirmation. Tae Woon, drained and pale, still managed a weak smile. There was a flicker of hesitation, but Kim Sibaek, too consumed by panic, didn’t notice it.
“I swallowed an unrefined manastone. Thought it would help with the poisoning.”
A buildup of magi from manastone overdose. Earth lacked the technology to refine manastones properly, which ironically made people safer—there’d never been a case like this before. So no one had really worried about it.
“The poisoning got better thanks to that, but… yeah. Turns out using magi stronger than poison to treat the poison was a dumb idea.”
He spoke lightly, brushing it off like it was nothing. Kim Sibaek struggled to stay composed, mentally piecing things together. Swallowing a named monster’s manastone—unrefined, no less—should’ve killed him on the spot. The fact that he survived at all was a miracle.
The fragile balance he’d barely maintained while being eaten alive by magi had shattered after the reagent. With another dose of poison on top of it all, there was no way he could keep suppressing the corruption.
If only they’d known. If only they’d waited. They could’ve found another way to purify him—anything safer.
Kim Sibaek was devastated. This was the result of his own failure to see Tae Woon’s condition. How had he not noticed, even while staying by his side all this time? Guilt slashed through his chest like a blade. How many times had Tae Woon collapsed alone while he wasn’t there?
“…That’s why you said your senses were sharper after the blessing.”
Now it all made sense—the moments he’d brushed off in the past. The holy power he’d infused Tae Woon with must’ve clashed violently with the magi corrupting his body. No wonder his reactions were so extreme.
Actually… they were even more extreme than they should’ve been. Was it just that bad already?
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I’m used to it.”
He was still the same kid who would complain about the smallest things but hide the real pain deep down. Tae Woon had grown into an adult, but that part hadn’t changed. His tone, his expression—they made it seem like he really was used to it.
But there was no way that could ever be true.
Kim Sibaek swallowed the bitter sting in his throat and reached out to the blackened skin. The moment his hand made contact with Tae Woon’s bare flesh, the younger man flinched so hard it was obvious. Whether it was because it was his touch, or because it was the hand of an Apostle—he didn’t know.
Despite Tae Woon’s usual teasing demeanor, his body trembled beneath the contact. His breathing was ragged, sweat trailing down his forehead. The only thing holding him together was the last remnants of discipline—years of mental fortitude and the divine barrier forged by holy power, barely keeping the magi at bay.
But one thing still didn’t add up.
If he’s in this bad a state, why didn’t I see it last time?
He had treated Tae Woon once before—back when he collapsed at the amusement park and needed help changing. He’d seen his bare body then. The scars had been painful to look at, sure—but there hadn’t been any obvious signs of demonic corruption like now.
At the time, the poison had been unusually active. If that had somehow suppressed the magi, then maybe that explained it. Maybe.
There just isn’t enough precedent.
In Mak Slechth, priests never resorted to such extremes. No one had ever attempted something as reckless as swallowing a raw manastone to purge a toxin.
Kim Sibaek’s thoughts spun through theories, but he forced himself to focus. This wasn’t the time to analyze the cause.
Right now, Tae Woon needed healing.
“Woon-ah.”
He spoke gently, pressing his fingers against skin that now seemed darker, deeper, as if shadow itself had soaked into it.
“We’re starting treatment. Before it’s too late.”
The divine power of Biendeoé’s priests wasn’t designed for comfort—it was meant to slay monsters. Just like a toxin built up over years couldn’t be purged in one breath, the magi infesting Tae Woon wouldn’t disappear with a snap of his fingers. And he didn’t have much divine power to work with either. But that didn’t mean he could stand by and do nothing.
He began the purification.
Or tried to—until Tae Woon pulled back.
“Hyung, you remember what happened last time, right? I get insanely sensitive.”
“…I get what you’re trying to say. But do you think this is the first time I’ve purified magi in Mak Slechth? No one’s ever had a problem.”
“Yeah, well, I bet they weren’t getting turned on by you.”
“……”
He wasn’t wrong.
When the body reacts violently to divine energy, all five senses often go into overdrive. In extreme cases, even a shaft of sunlight could feel like being burned alive.
In Tae Woon’s case, it was touch.
“So what—you’re planning to just tough it out like this?”
Tae Woon’s lips twitched in a wry smile, the corners barely holding back the pain.
“What if the horny bastard in heat loses it and does something to you?”
He was losing control. The fact that he’d even said something like that—he never talked like that around him. Kim Sibaek gave a humorless laugh.
“You really think I can’t handle one patient?”
“Hyung, fuck off. Just let me—”
Kim Sibaek ignored him.
He tightened his grip on Tae Woon’s left hand and quietly began to chant the purification prayer.
The soft glow of divine energy shimmered to life in his hand. Tae Woon’s body convulsed violently. He bit back whatever he was about to say—lips clamping shut as he sank his teeth into them. Sweat rolled down his face and dripped off his nose.
A heavy silence blanketed the room.
Not the calm, peaceful kind—but one thick with tension, damp with labored breath and clenched restraint.
“……”
Tae Woon didn’t say a word, but every shudder in his body, every broken gasp, spoke volumes. His shoulders jerked, and his free hand scraped harshly against the floor. Kim Sibaek kept purifying the magi, ignoring the pounding pulse racing beneath his palm.
“…We’ll stop here for today.”
Tae Woon kept his head down, struggling to catch his breath. Kim Sibaek had only performed a basic purification—no different from what he did in Mak Slechth—but his own mouth was parched. He swallowed, throat dry.
“Does your body feel… a little better?”
Before he even finished the sentence, Tae Woon’s trembling hand reversed and clutched his instead.
In a flash, the world tilted.
Tae Woon pinned him down, climbing on top of him.
