Surviving Babysitting is Easy, Really (3)

"Are we going or not, Apple-head?"

My eyebrows twitched as I reached up and touched my hair.

Bright red hair, the color of flames. It was the defining trait of the Yang lineage. It was something I was proud of.

To call it... an apple?

"Excuse me, Miss Lee."

I stepped closer, looking down at the small girl.

"My name is Yang Mu-Jin. I am the heir of the Yang Clan, a top graduate of the Korea Spiritual Academy, and currently an exorcist of SORT's 2nd Division."

I pointed at my chest with my thumb.

"Please call me by my name. We are professionals, are we not? Mutual respect is the foundation of teamwork."

The girl blinked, then looked at me from top to bottom with her black eyes.

"Okay. Got it."

She turned around, her white skirt fluttering.

"Let's go then, Rookie."

"...Pardon?"

"I said let's go."

"No, I mean the name. I just told you—"

"Whatever you say, Rookie. Chop-chop."

She waved her hand dismissively over her shoulder and ducked under the police tape.

I stood in place, gritting my teeth.

Rookie.

To think I, Yang Mu-Jin, who dominated the Spiritual Academy and inherited the will of the Yang Clan, would be addressed as a mere "Rookie" by a freelancer who looked like a delinquent.

'Calm down, Mu-Jin.'

I took a deep breath.

'Team Leader Seo Do-Won respects this woman. That means she cannot be an ordinary person. I can't get angry here. If I lose my composure at such childish provocation, it shows I am not ready. This is a test.'

...Yes. That had to be it. She was checking if I was one of those arrogant people from the Academy with fragile egos.

'Hah. You underestimated me, Miss Lee. I endured much more than you can imagine. Do you think a rude nickname will shake me?'

I adjusted the strap of my case and followed her, ducking under the yellow tape and approaching the entrance of the stairs leading down to the station.

'Just wait, you ignorant woman. I, definitely...'

I clenched my fists.

"I will demonstrate my capabilities soon enough. Then, you will be forced to call me by my name."

"Sure, sure~ Watch your step, Rookie."

She walked down first, and I quickly followed.

Step, step, step...

As we descended, my skin started prickling as if insects were crawling on my body. Accompanying that was the sensation of having my shoulders pushed down by an invisible force.

This feeling was something familiar to any trained exorcist.

"The concentration of [Malice] is high."

Malice. Also called Spiritual Pressure.

"Mhm."

Showing no reaction to my words, she just kept walking down the stairs, her hands shoved deep into her hoodie pocket.

I frowned at her lack of tension.

"Miss Lee. Should you not prepare yourself? We do not know what lies at the bottom."

"I am prepared."

"Your hands are in your pockets."

"That's the best place for them. It's cold."

I held back a sigh as we continued down.

Step, step, step...

The Malice reached its peak when we got to the bottom of the stairs.

Rank 6. There was no mistaking it.

If a civilian were to walk here, they would likely experience difficulty breathing, nausea, or loss of consciousness.

I gripped the strap of my case tighter.

'[Unknown] Ghost Story. Domain Type.'

The term "Unknown" is a classification used by SORT to designate a Ghost Story that has no prior records. A newly born entity that has not yet been defined by rumors or survivors.

Because of this, Unknowns are unstable. Having not yet consumed enough humans or spread their existence, they lack "narrative weight". Therefore, paradoxically, a higher-ranking Unknown is often easier to kill than a registered lower-ranking one.

As we walked down the clean white corridor, I made some calculations in my mind.

'Considering all that, this Ghost Story is most likely to display gaps, making it as threatening as a Rank 5 or 4...'

Finally, as the ticket gates came into view, Miss Lee stopped right in front of them. Then, she leaned casually against one of the ticket gates.

"What are you waiting for? It's your time to shine, Rookie."

I frowned slightly at her flippant attitude, but I quickly composed myself.

'Of course.'

It was obvious. If I relied on her, there would be no reason to go through this test in the first place.

With a nod, I stepped forward, placing my case on the floor and unlocking it.

A Seseummu does not rush into battle blindly.

Click.

"Oho?"

I heard a small noise of interest from behind me. It seemed even this eccentric woman recognized the value of these tools.

'Watch closely. This is the power of the Yang Clan.'

I opened the lid. The three Mengdu made of brass sat inside: The Sinkal (Sacred Knives), the Yoryeong (Sacred Bell), and the Sandae (Divination Plate).

I reached out and grasped the Sandae. Then, I placed the two Sangjan cups and the Cheonmun discs onto the plate.

I closed my eyes, focusing my Spiritual Energy into the Sandae.

'Is the root concept of this Ghost Story [Transportation]?'

It was the most logical deduction. A subway station exists for one purpose: to move people from one point to another.

I turned the plate.

Click, clack.

The left Sangjan was upright. The right Sangjan was upside down.

The Cheonmun discs lay flat, their inscribed sides facing up.

Auspicious.

The Heavens had answered clearly.

The root is confirmed. It is [Transportation].

"Not bad~"

"It is the standard of the Yang Clan."

I replied curtly, feeling a corner of my mouth twitch upwards, but held it down. There was no reason to make this woman believe I sought her approval.

...Nonetheless, despite her flippant attitude, she was indeed a Master. She understood the skills required to use the Sandae.

'Transportation.'

That is the primary concept.

And derived from "Transportation", the secondary concepts would most likely be: "Departure", "Arrival", and "Payment".

If you go further, more abstract concepts like "Destiny" and "Journey" might also be included.

I placed the Sandae back into the case.

Using the Sandae once was enough. Divining again so soon greatly decreased accuracy and risked bad fortune.

After the Sandae, my hand moved towards the pair of Sinkals and took them out.

Shing.

They were not sharp. The edges were dull, rounded even.

I turned the knives over, revealing the handle and the tassel attached to the pommel.

The Chima (Skirt). A dense bundle of Hanji (traditional Korean paper).

Usually, the paper attached to a Shaman's knife is white, meaning purity, or sometimes multi-colored to represent the Obangshin (Gods of the Five Directions).

But mine was pure red, the same color as the Yangs'.

That had to do with the legend of my clan.

Legend has it that twelve generations ago, the first Clan Head of the Yang family ascended the highest peak in Jeju. He knelt for over a month with no food or water, offering his loyalty to the Heavens themselves.

He offered his blood, his bone, and his lineage.

And as a result.

[The Yang Clan shall be the hound of the Heavens. In exchange, the Heavens shall grant them the authority to judge.]

With those words, the Heavens blessed his Sinkals, staining the white paper red. From that day on, the Sinkals of the Yang Clan had the power to sever misfortune, curses, and grudges.

I skillfully spun the knives once in my hands, then slid them into the leather holsters at my waist.

Finally, I closed the lid of the case.

Click.

I locked the clasps and slung the now-lighter case over my shoulder.

"Preparations complete."

I turned to look at Miss Lee.

"Ready whenever you are, Rookie."

"...It's Mu-Jin."

I frowned. It seemed she had no intention of correcting her attitude.

'Fine. Actions speak louder than words.'

I turned my attention to the ticket gates.

There were only ordinary tripod turnstiles. There was nothing that made them different from any others.

And it was the domain's boundary.

I walked over to the turnstile and pulled out my wallet before taking out my card.

"Transportation" is a concept that implies a contract. You pay a fee, and in exchange, you are moved to a destination.

According to the report, thousands of people passed through this station yesterday, and three disappeared. Luckily, the moment those three victims disappeared, a Master was nearby and quickly stopped the other civilians from using the ticket gates.

I recalled the profiles of the victims. A Romani, a Hunter, and a Fortune Teller.

'The victims shared one common trait: Above-average Spiritual Sensitivity.'

The reason is simple. Ghost Stories are drawn to those who can perceive them. Like a moth to a flame, they crave the spiritual energy of the perceptive.

Therefore, the trap is set specifically for people overflowing with talent.

Masters like us.

"I will go in first. Follow me closely."

"Sure~ I am cheering for you, Rookie."

Ignoring her comment, I tapped the card.

Beep.

[1,500 Won]

With a loud beep, the small screen lit up green.

I pushed against the metal bar of the turnstile with my thigh.

Creak.

Step.

And, I stepped through the gate and stopped to wait for Miss Lee.

"Kuh!?"

I fell to my knees, as if gravity had increased a thousandfold.

"Haa... Haa... Ugh..."

I struggled to breathe. My heart felt like it was being squeezed, and nausea washed over me, making me dry heave.

"Miss Lee, don't—!"

With my vision spinning, I forcefully turned my head back despite the dizziness, trying to warn her to go back, but behind me, there was nothing. Only pitch-black darkness.

'Separated?!'

My eyes darted around, searching for any clue that could help in this situation.

'Impossible. The difference between the inside and outside of the boundary shouldn't be this violent! A Rank 6 Domain Type doesn't have enough Malice to distort my position this quickly!'

I tried to channel my Spiritual Energy and reach for the Sinkal at my waist as my consciousness was rapidly fading, the corners of my vision darkening.

...But I could not move my body properly. The Malice around me was too thick.

[Bzzzt— The passenger...]

A distorted announcement cut through the ringing in my ears.

[...has boarded.]

My legs gave out and I fell to the floor.

Darkness filled my vision.

——————

Rattle... Rattle...

The sound of metal wheels on tracks. A swaying feeling.

"Ugh..."

I groaned, my entire body aching as I slowly opened my eyes.

Bright white LED lights lined the ceiling, and a clean metallic interior.

I was sitting on a hard plastic seat.

'Subway...?'

It was a subway car.

"..."

Slowly, very slowly, I shifted my gaze under my still half-closed eyelids, without moving my head.

It was full.

Sitting to my right was a pregnant woman in a green dress.

Sitting to my left was a tired-looking salaryman.

Across from me, a young student couple were dozing off, lying against each other.

All around, people held onto the handstraps, swaying with the car.

Finally, I turned my gaze toward the windows behind the standing passengers in front of me. It was completely normal. I could see the concrete walls go by with the lights from the tunnel.

Seeing such a normal scene, one thing came to mind.

'Mimicry.'

One of the most basic skills of a Ghost Story. Even Low-Ranking ones can use it. And because it is such a basic skill, the first thing any proper exorcist learns is how to counter it.

I narrowed my eyes even further, channeling a small amount of Spiritual Energy into my pupils, using the technique to distinguish falsehood from truth.

[Spirit Sight].

Looking around, I—

"!!!"

Immediately shut my eyes tight and acted like I was sleeping. Cold sweat drenched my back in an instant.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

My heart felt like it was going to burst.

'Impossible.'

My hands resting on my lap, now tightly gripping my pants, were trembling uncontrollably.

'There is no way...!'

The Mimicry used by Ghost Stories is just a trick or illusion to catch humans. The skill is basically a lump of Malice taken form.

But what I saw.

A beating heart. Expanding lungs. Flowing blood. The complex contraction of muscles.

A perfect replica of a human.

This wasn't [Mimicry].

To imitate a human is simple. But to perfectly replicate one?

It was [Creation].

'Not Rank 6, nor 7... but at least a Rank 8?'

Disaster Class.

I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back a curse.

"""..."""

I could feel it. Even with my eyes closed, dozens of gazes stuck on me.

The moment I activated [Spirit Sight], the moment I "recognized" them as monsters, they "recognized" me as prey.

They stared silently at me.

They were waiting.

They were waiting for me to open my eyes. To confirm that I knew what they were.

Shiver.

A sticky drop of sweat rolled down from my temple, tracing the line of my jaw before reaching my chin.

Drip.

It fell onto the back of my hand.

Don't open your eyes.

Don't make eye contact.

Don't show fear.

If you do...

'You die.'

"""..."""

"..."

How much time had passed? Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

Ding~♫

A cheerful chime came from the speakers.

[Bzzzt— This stop is... This stop is...]

The broadcast crackled with static.

[...Siwon Station. Siwon Station.]

'Siwon Station (Origin Station)?'

My brow furrowed.

[Notice to all passengers. The Basic Fare of 1,500 Won covers travel up to this station.]

Screeeech—

The car began to slow down.

Hiss—

Then came to a complete halt as the subway doors opened. Outside the open doors was a subway platform with clean white tiled floors. On the wall, a large digital billboard was playing an advertisement for some type of food. Around, there were a few seats and signs.

It looked exactly like any other station, perhaps even cleaner.

"..."

Was this the exit? Was [Siwon Station] the domain's boundary? If I stepped out here, would I be back in reality?

It made sense. The announcement said the fare covered travel up to this station. That implied that the contract ended here. If I got off, the transaction would be complete.

I slowly unclenched my fists.

'I can leave.'

The passengers around me remained seated. They were still staring at me with their sticky gazes, but they made no move to stop me.

I took a deep breath, forcing my facial muscles to relax as I "woke up" from the broadcast.

Then, I stood up slowly, adjusting my case. I didn't look left or right. I kept my gaze fixed on the exit ahead.

Step. Step.

I walked toward the open doors.

The station was three steps away.

'The announcement stated the fare covers this distance. It follows the concept of "destiny" and "payment" as expected.'

Two steps.

'I must retreat and immediately inform SORT of this Unknown Disaster Class Ghost Story.'

One step. I lifted my right foot, ready to cross the gap between the subway car and the platform.

'After stepping out of the boundary, I will seal the entrance with the Sinkal—'

Shiver.

"?!"

My body suddenly shivered, and I froze mid-step, my foot inches from the platform.

'Something is wrong.'

As a Seseummu, I am extremely sensitive to malicious intent. And right now, I felt an overwhelming amount of Malice from the gazes around me.

Carefully, I paid more attention to the outside. And then I noticed it.

The tiled floor. Its polished surface reflected the lights, the billboard, and the subway car.

But it did not reflect me.

"..."

[Reflection].

The concept of "Reflection" is one of the most ominous ones, mostly because of mirrors, which can be considered gateways that reflect the spiritual world.

This concept, in fact, is so ominous that there exists a funeral custom to cover all mirrors in the house when someone dies. Otherwise, when looking into a mirror, the deceased may reflect back and pull you into the mirror to join them.

Also, many famous Ghost Stories involve your reflection ceasing to follow your movements, trying to swap places with the victim, or reflecting back a completely different existence.

But the most ominous version of this concept is when there is no reflection at all. If a mirror does not reflect the "you" in the spiritual world, that is, your soul, what does that mean?

The simplest and most direct meaning would be that there is no place for your existence.

So, if I step out...

If I placed my foot on the platform...

'At that moment, I will be erased.'

The platform is the "Destination".

But if the destination refuses to reflect my existence, then I have no place.

I slowly, very carefully, pulled my foot back. I placed it firmly on the floor of the subway car.

"Student?"

I felt a hot breath on the back of my neck. Startled, I looked back.

It was the salaryman who had been sitting on my left.

"Is something wrong? You look pale."

He looked concerned.

"Aren't you getting off? The doors are closing soon."

His hand reached out, landing gently on my shoulder.

"Go on."

He urged me, giving my shoulder a small push.

"It's safe out there. Don't you want to go home?"

The voice was kind. It was the tone of an adult concerned for a student. But the hand on my shoulder was not kind.

"Go."

His grip tightened. It wasn't a gentle encouragement anymore. He was trying to push me.

He mumbled, his face inching closer. I could now clearly see the blood vessels in his murky eyes.

"Go. Go. Go. Go."

The passengers around us also joined in.

"Get off."

"Go home."

"Step outside."

"You want to go back, don't you?"

I looked back to the tiled floor.

Just one step. If I took one step, I would land on the platform. I would be able to escape this enclosed space with bloodthirsty monsters.

But my reflection was not there. The platform reflected everything outside. It even reflected the salaryman behind me. But the space where I should be standing was empty.

I kept my face blank and my feet planted firmly on the ground.

There is no reason to panic.

"Thank you for your concern."

I spoke clearly, slowly turning my head until I could meet the salaryman's gaze again.

"However..."

I raised my hand and gently grasped his wrist. My shoulder throbbed from his crushing grip, but I did not show any signs of pain.

I am Yang Mu-Jin. The heir of the Yang Clan. Such cheap tricks won't work on me.

"...It seems I have misheard the announcement."

I slowly peeled his fingers off my shoulder, one by one.

That's right. The fact that the passengers haven't killed me yet is a clear sign of some rule they have to follow.

"This is not my destination."

"Not... your destination?"

So they resorted to cheap tricks like this, trying to make me panic and lose my composure.

"Yes. I have an appointment further down the line. If I get off here, I will be late. And as a student, being punctual is important, isn't it?"

I bowed my head slightly, maintaining absolute politeness.

"I sincerely apologize for the confusion. Please, do not mind me."

"""..."""

The salaryman stared at me. The passengers around us stared at me, their gazes intensifying.

If I showed even a flicker of relief, or if my voice trembled, they would tear me apart right here. I was sure of it. But, if I maintained my polite smile, with my back straight, radiating the arrogance of an ignorant student who simply made a mistake...

They could do nothing.

[Bzzzt— The doors are closing.]

The speakers crackled.

[Please stand back.]

Hiss—

The doors closed, blocking the path between the subway car and the platform. The salaryman looked at the closing doors, then back at me.

"Is that so..."

With those words, he slumped back into his seat, returning to the posture of a tired office worker. The other passengers turned their heads forward again, as if they had lost interest.

"..."

I stood there for a few seconds, ensuring that the situation was truly defused.

Screeeech—

Rattle... Rattle...

The subway car vibrated as it began to accelerate again.

'Haa...'

I sighed mentally and relaxed my firmly planted legs. My back was soaked in cold sweat, and my shoulder throbbed where the salaryman had grabbed me.

But I survived.

I adjusted my crumpled jacket, checking my reflection in the window.

'As long as it is escaping, I can do it.'

Confidence surged through me. If a Rank 8 needs such cheap tricks, it definitely lacks narrative weight.

Ding~♫

The cheerful chime sounded again.

[We are now departing for the next station: Silyeog Station (Sight Station). For passengers who have passed the Fare Limit, a Sectional Surcharge will be applied. Those who fail to pay will be forced to disembark.]

'Surcharge...?'

Having a bad feeling, I felt my face harden.

I paid 1,500 won at the gate. That is the standard base fare for the subway.

But in some subway systems, you pay a certain amount to reach a specific point, and if you go further than the specified fare, an additional fee is calculated.

In the human world, that fee is a few hundred won.

But, as if to show the malice of Ghost Stories...

"Ack—?!"

A sharp, burning pain surged through my eye. The pain was enough to make me unable to think.

"Kuh... Heuk...!"

Drip, drip.

I clamped my hand over my right eye, doubling over as something wet and warm seeped through my fingers. Along with the pain, I felt a pressure around my eye, as if it were going to burst at any moment.

"A-Argh...!"

Squelch.

[Payment confirmed. Thank you for using our service, passengers.]

As I felt something squishy slip between my fingers, the extreme pain subsided enough for me to be able to think.

"W-What... is..."

I trembled, covered in sweat and gasping for air, forcing my eyelids open and looking at my hand.

Blood.

Dark, viscous blood was dripping from my palm.

And on the floor, rolling near my feet... was a round, white ball with a blue iris.

My right eye.