Surviving Babysitting is Easy, Really (2)

There is no such thing as equality. That is a lie weak people speak to ignore their own worthlessness.

In Jeju, the Island of 18,000 Gods. From the moment I took my first breath, I was superior.

That is not arrogance, but a fact. My birthright.

In the world of Shamanism, there are two paths. The Kangshinmu, those chosen by the spirits and possessed by gods to channel their will. And the Seseummu, those who inherit the priesthood through blood and lineage.

I was the latter.

"Mu-Jin. You are special. You are blessed by the Heavens itself."

That was what I remember my grandmother saying the most as she stroked my head.

"Your blood carries a heavy price, Mu-Jin. Do not let it be in vain. You must become a worthy Seseummu of the Yang lineage."

My grandfather, a stern man with boundless warmth, always looked at me with pride following those words.

They loved me. And because they loved me, they made me strong.

But the love in the Yang household was not soft.

"Again."

The stern voice of Grandfather reached my ears.

I stood in the courtyard of our family shrine. My hands were wrapped in bandages, but the blood had long since soaked through the white cloth, turning it red.

Swish!

In my grip was the Sinkal (Sacred Knife).

"Again."

My arms trembled, my muscles burned, but I did not let my blade waver.

Swish!

A Yang's love is made to sharpen their lineage into a weapon capable of piercing the heavens.

"Again."

Swish!

I swung it once more. With the swing, residual Spiritual Energy drew a path in the air before dissipating.

The Sinkal of the Yang lineage does not cut flesh. It is not a weapon meant to draw the blood of the living. It was created to sever misfortune, the threads of curses, and the clinging resentments of the dead.

"Again."

Swish!

My body was covered in sweat, and my vision blurry. But I did not stop. I could not stop.

If I stopped, I would be average. And for a Yang, being average was a sin.

"Again."

I swung again. And again. And again. Until the seasons repeated. Until the skin on my palms blistered, tore open, healed, and tore open again.

After one teaching, the next followed.

"Look closely."

Grandmother's voice was soft, unlike Grandfather's, yet heavy all the same.

She sat on the wooden floor, her eyes closed, holding a Yoryeong (Sacred Bell) in her wrinkled hand.

Jingle~

With a simple flick of her wrist, a clear, resonant sound came from the bell. With the sound, the bell glowed, and I could feel myself getting lighter and stronger.

"Now try it."

I took a deep breath, focusing my Spiritual Energy towards the connection with the bell and shook it.

Clang.

A pathetic, dull sound.

"Wrong."

Grandmother didn't even open her eyes.

I gritted my teeth. The bell felt infinitely heavy, but I did not let go of it. Forcing the meager amount of Spiritual Energy left in me towards the bell, I tried to shake it again.

Drip.

A warm liquid trickled from my nose, sliding over my skin, and entering my lips.

"Wipe your face and rest for five minutes. Then, we do it again."

I did not wipe the blood, nor rest.

I was superior. I was the heir of the Yang Clan. Therefore, I had to endure what others could not.

"Suit yourself."

I trained for 2 more hours before fainting.

Not long after, the third teaching started.

It was about the reading of the Heavens.

"Sit."

Grandfather pointed to the small table before me.

On it lay five objects made of brass.

"...These are the eyes that see the will of the Heavens."

Grandfather's calloused hand swept over the objects.

A large, flat brass plate. The Sandae.

Two small brass cups. The Sangjan.

Two flat brass discs with holes in the center. The Cheonmun.

"The principle is simple. Openness and Closedness. The flow of fate. An upright cup and an inscribed disc mean the gate is Open. The gods are willing. It is Auspicious."

He paused, his eyes meeting mine.

"An overturned cup and a smooth disc mean the gate is Closed. The gods turn away. It is Inauspicious."

He pointed to the Sandae.

I reached out and grasped the heavy brass rim of the plate. Inside it sat the pair of Sangjan cups and the Cheonmun discs.

"Read the weather of the next hour."

It was a trivial question.

I closed my eyes. I focused on the sky outside the shrine.

'The weather will still be clear by the next hour.'

I shook the Sandae and overturned it, spilling the implements onto the mat.

Click, clack.

I looked down.

Two cups, upside down. Two discs, smooth side up.

"All Closed. The White Dragon. The worst result. The gods have closed their doors."

Grandfather said dryly, and the moment those words left his mouth, it started.

A sudden, heavy rain fell into the courtyard, soaking my bandages and stinging my wounds. It was an unnatural storm, born from the verdict of the White Dragon.

"To know fortune is to accept fortune. You have confirmed the Inauspicious. Therefore, you must bear that misfortune."

The rain that fell that day was cold. It soaked into my bones, chilling the marrow, making my teeth chatter.

But I did not move. I did not step under the eaves.

To dodge the misfortune I myself predicted would be to insult the gods.

And a Shaman must never insult the Heavens.

"Do you understand, Mu-Jin?"

"Yes, Grandfather."

The rain was only the beginning.

"Ask for the wind at dawn."

I wiped the water from my eyes and picked up the wet brass implements from the mud.

I placed the Sangjan and Cheonmun back into the Sandae. My fingers were numb, losing sensation, but my grip remained firm.

I shook the plate.

Click, clack.

I overturned it again.

One cup upright. One cup overturned. Both discs displaying the inscribed characters.

"Interpretation."

"One Open. The wind will blow, but the gate is not fully clear. It will be a turbulent gust, not a steady breeze."

Grandfather looked at the sky.

"Wait."

We stood there for hours.

Then, at the break of dawn, the trees in the courtyard shook violently. A sudden, erratic gust swept through, knocking over the broom leaning against the wall.

Grandfather looked at the fallen broom, then at me.

"Correct."

From that day on, the Sandae became an extension of me.

"Predict the arrival of the guest."

Clatter.

"Predict the health of..."

Clatter.

"Predict..."

Clatter.

And one night.

"Yang Mu-Jin."

Grandfather's voice was solemn.

"These Mengdu (3 Sacred Tools) have served our family for twelve generations."

He pushed the Sandae toward me.

"Ask the Heavens. Am I, Yang Gi-Seok, ready to pass down my burden?"

It was the final test.

I placed my hand on the Sandae.

'Am I, Yang Mu-Jin, ready to inherit the Yang Clan's burden?'

I overturned the plate without hesitation.

Click, clack.

The left Sangjan was upright. The right Sangjan was upright.

The left Cheonmun showed the characters "天門" (Heaven Gate). The right Cheonmun showed the characters "日月" (Sun Moon).

"Both Open. The Sun and Moon align. The Heavens agree."

I looked up, meeting Grandfather's eyes.

"The gate is wide open. The gods are willing."

Silence filled the room.

Grandfather looked at the formation of the brass. He stared at it for a long time, his chest rising and falling unsteadily.

Then, a single tear traced a path down his wrinkled cheek.

"Good... Good..."

He whispered, his voice trembling.

"You have acquired Sudeok (Ritual Authority)."

Grandmother, next to me, pulled me into an embrace, weeping in my chest.

"My grandson... My pride..."

Grandfather joined us, wrapping his large arms around both of us.

"You have done well, Mu-Jin. You have endured."

I felt the wetness of their tears on my skin.

All the hard work.

It was all for this.

I had officially become a Seseummu.

I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the emotions surging inside me. A Yang does not cry in the face of accomplishment.

But that night, I cried for the first time.

—————

"I am leaving."

I stood at the gate of our home. I wore a modern blue jacket over a white shirt, and a long, rectangular case slung over my shoulder.

Inside the case were the Sinkal, the Yoryeong, and the Sandae.

Grandfather and Grandmother stood at the porch. They looked older than I remembered. The training had taken a toll on them as well.

"Go. The Island is too small for you now. Go to the mainland. Show them the power of the Yang Clan."

"I will return only when I have become the best."

With a deep bow, I turned my back on the home I had never left for eighteen years and walked.

I did not look back.

To look back is to invite regret, and regret dulls the blade of determination.

As I gripped the strap of my case tighter, the Mengdu inside clattered around. The weight of twelve generations. The weight of my birth.

I carried it all, boarding the plane to Seoul.

And when I arrived.

Disgust.

That was the first thing I felt when I arrived.

The capital, Seoul.

It was a cesspool.

Everywhere I looked, I saw them.

Clinging to the shoulders of exhausted people. Hiding in the shadows. Floating in the sky.

Ghost Stories (Urban Legends).

They were not natural spirits. They were artificial monsters born from the stress, hatred, and obsession of people.

"Filthy."

I muttered, adjusting the strap of my case.

But as I looked at them, a corner of my mouth lifted.

It was ugly. It was disgusting.

But it was also a perfect opportunity for growth.

I enrolled in the Korea Spiritual Academy.

It was the elite institution for nurturing future exorcists and hunters. Only the top 1% of applicants were accepted.

"Yang Mu-Jin. Top of the class. Again."

It was a natural result.

The curriculum was child's play. They were pathetic. I broke every record the Academy had.

Except one.

No matter where I went, that name followed. It was a name I had heard a thousand times since entering the Academy.

"You're amazing, Mu-Jin! Just like Senior Do-Won!"

"The best talent since Seo Do-Won."

"What a monster... It reminds me of Do-Won."

I researched him.

Seo Do-Won. The youngest Team Leader in the history of the Special Occurrence Response Team. The man who graduated with perfect scores while breaking every single record of the Academy. The man who reportedly cleared a Rank 6 Ghost Story alone as a trainee.

He was the wall I had to climb.

And so, the choice was clear.

"I will join SORT."

I refused offers from multiple famous groups.

I had a target. I had a goal.

Graduating early, I applied for the 2nd Division immediately.

I was gladly welcomed. And now, I stood before him for the first time.

"Report. New recruit Yang Mu-Jin, assigned to the 2nd Division as of today."

In front of me, sitting behind a black desk, was a man.

Seo Do-Won.

He slowly raised his head from the documents he was reading.

He was tall, even while seated. His shoulders were broad, and his black hair was styled back neatly, showing his sharp eyes.

'So this is him.'

In the Academy, there were two nicknames for this man.

The first was Ghost.

It was a moniker he quickly earned during his time in the Academy. Because during operations, he ceased to be human.

He would quickly and coldly exorcise Ghost Stories, showing inhuman skills, to the point of sacrificing his own body if it meant finishing the mission.

And after that, covered in blood, with deep lacerations and broken bones, he would walk into the report room with a completely unchanged expression, showing no signs of pain or fear.

That ruthlessness was what earned him the moniker "Ghost".

And the second nickname...

Cliff Flower.

He was handsome. Annoyingly so. Even I, a man who took great pride in my appearance, had to admit defeat the moment I saw him.

Countless women had tried to approach him. They had all been rejected.

It did not matter how capable, rich, or beautiful they were. He unhesitatingly refused them.

A flower beautiful to look at, but impossible to reach.

Cold. Unreachable. Solitary.

A man with only the mission in his heart.

I clenched my fist.

This was the man I had to surpass.

"Yang Mu-Jin. I have high expectations."

"I will exceed them, Team Leader."

I answered without hesitation. Humility is for those who lack ability. I had no reason to lower my head.

Do-Won nodded slightly, as if he expected nothing less.

"Good. Then, we will proceed immediately with the tradition of the 2nd Division."

He tapped a file on his desk.

"Every rookie assigned to the 2nd Division must clear a Ghost Story single-handedly. It proves you have the practical skills to back up your grades."

"I am ready."

"Usually, I would accompany you as the supervisor to grade your performance."

Do-Won paused.

"However, due to a shortage of manpower, I cannot go."

He looked down at his desk. He looked at the file. Then he looked out the window at the gray sky.

"So I contacted someone to accompany you."

"...?"

When his gaze returned to me, it was gloomy.

Was he angry? Was he frustrated that he couldn't personally witness my skills?

"Just the two of you. Alone. For the whole mission."

The temperature in the room dropped from his Spiritual Pressure.

I gulped dryly.

'What kind of monster is this person?'

To make the "Ghost" Seo Do-Won show such a grave expression...

Was this person a dangerous individual? Someone so volatile that Do-Won was worried about my safety?

"Team Leader."

I straightened my back, radiating confidence to clear his gloom.

"Do not worry. No matter who they are, I will not clash with them. I will focus solely on the mission."

"..."

Do-Won looked at me with a complicated expression filled with sadness, envy, and resignation.

'I see. He is frustrated that he had to entrust his precious rookie to an outsider.'

That was clearly it.

"...I see."

He opened the drawer and pulled out a sticky note. He scribbled a name and a phone number on it, his pen moving reluctantly, as if he didn't want to share this information.

He held the note out.

I reached for it.

He didn't let go.

"..."

I pulled. The note stayed in his hand.

'What grip strength!'

I exerted more force, channeling Spiritual Energy into my fingers. The paper remained fixed in place, held by Do-Won's thumb and index finger.

His eyes were glued on the paper.

"...Team Leader?"

"Ah."

Do-Won blinked. He slowly, very slowly, released his grip.

"My apologies."

I took the note.

[Exorcist Lee Yeon-Woo. 010-XXXX-XXXX]

"Lee Yeon-Woo?"

"She is a skilled Master. While her methods are unorthodox, her results are undeniable. Listen to her instructions. Do not act on your own. And above all..."

He stared firmly at me, almost making me flinch from the intensity.

"Do not annoy her. Do you understand?"

I swallowed hard.

To think the legendary Seo Do-Won would give such specific warnings about catering to this person's mood...

'This person... She must be a eccentric monster with a terrible temper.'

I had heard of such people. Old Masters and Sect Elders. High-Ranking people.

My heart beat faster.

'A test. This is undoubtedly a test.'

Team Leader Seo was unable to evaluate me personally, so he entrusted me to a monster of equal or greater caliber. He hesitated because he feared I might break under the pressure of such a formidable supervisor.

"Yes, Team Leader. I won't let you down."

"I trust you will do well, Mu-Jin. Remember, you will be alone with her. Just the two of you. In a confined space. So make sure to only focus on your mission."

I nodded solemnly.

'I see. She is a recluse who despises the presence of others.'

"Yes!"

I saluted sharply with a shout.

"I will not speak unless spoken to, and I will focus solely on the extermination. I will not let my guard down for a single second!"

"Good."

Seo Do-Won nodded, looking satisfied(?).

"Go. The coordinates have been sent to your phone."

—————

Mapo Station, Exit 1.

Time: 23:30.

I arrived thirty minutes early.

Punctuality is the most basic virtue of a professional. To make a superior wait is unthinkable.

I stood near the exit, against the wall, my case on the floor beside me. I scanned the empty area around me.

Yellow police tape blocked the entrance. A few workers blocked anyone from trying to approach.

Rank 6. Unknown.

A Mid-Grade Ghost Story. A "Domain" type.

According to the briefing, the station had been closed off since yesterday evening.

The story is: People went in. No one came out.

The surveillance cameras showed people walking down the stairs and simply vanishing when passing by the ticket gates.

I checked my watch.

23:58.

Two minutes left.

Step... Step...

A sound.

I turned my head toward the crosswalk.

There, waiting for the pedestrian signal to turn green, was a girl.

A small stature, barely reaching my chest.

An oversized pink hoodie.

A white knee-length skirt.

Worn-out sneakers.

And a white face mask covering half the face.

I frowned.

'A civilian?'

A student? No, it was too late for that. A runaway?

The signal turned green. The girl walked across the street, her hands inside the front pocket of her hoodie. She was walking straight toward the station entrance.

I stepped forward, blocking the path to the police line.

"Stop. This area is restricted. It is dangerous. Turn back immediately."

The girl stopped and looked up at me.

"Restricted?"

Her voice was muffled by the mask.

"Yes. Go home, student. This is not a place for a civilian to wander."

I waved my hand dismissively.

The girl stared at me for a second. Then, she pulled a cracked smartphone out of her hoodie pocket and checked the screen.

"23:59. I'm on time."

"...? Miss, this is not a place for messing around. A Rank 6 Ghost Story was detected in the station. Run along before you get hurt."

"Haa... Hey, Apple-head."

The girl looked annoyed.

"What did you call—"

"I am here for a commission. If you're Yang Mu-Jin from SORT, I'm your supervisor. If you're not, then get lost because you're interfering with my job."

"???"

This girl?

I looked at the girl.

I looked at the cracked phone in her hand.

I looked at the sticky note Team Leader Seo gave me.

I dialed the number.

Tiriring~♫

The cracked phone in the girl's hand rang.

'...This is the monster Seo Do-Won respects?'

"Well? Are we going to have a staring contest all day? My hourly rate is expensive."

The girl, no, Lee Yeon-Woo, looked at me.

I struggled to keep my voice polite.