Hwan-young abruptly grabbed Mu-ryeong’s arm, yanking him away from Ye-jun with such force that Mu-ryeong stumbled forward and fell against him. Caught off guard, Hwan-young instinctively steadied him, gripping his shoulders as he spoke through clenched teeth.
“You really...!”
“It’s done.”
A quiet murmur cut him off.
Mu-ryeong lifted a hand to his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief mont. Then, the air around them shifted—an eerie chill creeping over their skin.
“I pulled it out.”
“......”
Hwan-young turned his head.
There, sprawled on the ground, was the displaced spirit. A figure wearing a deep-pulled cap and a mask, sitting motionless under the dim streetlight.
“...Shit.”
It was the ghost that had been possessing Ye-jun. Even without seeing his face, the ragged cursing and aggressive energy confird it. Though he wasn’t quite a vengeful spirit, the oppressive aura around him was unmistakable.
“Fucking bastards...”
On instinct, Hwan-young stepped in front of Mu-ryeong, shielding him as he narrowed his eyes at the spirit. The exorcism had forcefully expelled him, leaving him weak, unable to stand. All he could do was spit curses from where he sat.
“...What the hell is that?”
Even as he kept his gaze locked on the spirit, Hwan-young lowered his voice to ask Mu-ryeong. He had seen countless spirits before, but this one felt different—similar to Hwan-hee’s presence, yet sohow even more raw and unpleasant.
“That’s a criminal.”
“...A criminal?”
“Yeah. A criminal.”
Mu-ryeong’s voice was uncharacteristically cold.
Still holding onto Hwan-young’s arm, he explained in a steady, almost detached tone.
“Spirits who committed cris in life start giving off dark energy even before they beco vengeful spirits. Since a ghost reflects the inner nature of the person, if soone was rotten on the inside, it shows in their energy, too.”
A criminal.
That sickening aura—the sheer unpleasantness clinging to him—was the result of whatever he had done while alive.
The cap. The mask. It made sense now why he had been so fixated on concealing his identity.
“That guy was probably stalking the person who lives in that house.”
The mont Mu-ryeong said it, Hwan-young understood why he had been so uncharacteristically firm. Mu-ryeong had known from the start. That was why he had only asked a few questions before imdiately resorting to force.
“How did you know he was a criminal?”
“The energy is different, for one...”
Mu-ryeong trailed off, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly.
Whenever he got serious like this, his usually gentle features carried an unexpected weight. Even Hwan-young, who had been watching him closely, felt a chill creep over him.
“I’ve seen a lot of people like him.”
There was a faint bitterness in his voice.
Then, in a quiet murmur, he added,
“There are more bad people in this world than you’d think.”
“......”
Co to think of it, Mu-ryeong’s work wasn’t limited to exorcism. Sotis, he took on requests to pretend to be soone’s partner, to help drive away persistent harassers, or even to walk people ho at night. He had dealt with stalkers before. He had helped people escape dangerous situations before.
“You bastards... who the hell do you think you are, getting in my way?”
“I already told you. I’m an exorcist.”
Even now, Mu-ryeong answered politely. Then, after checking that Ye-jun was still unconscious, he gathered a thin thread of spiritual energy and let it unravel along the ground.
The mont it slithered toward the spirit, it coiled around his ankles like a snake.
“What the—what the hell is this?!”
“If I leave you alone, you’ll just run again.”
No matter how much he struggled, the spiritual binding wouldn’t break. Unlike with Hwan-hee, this one wasn’t going to co loose so easily.
Hwan-young, watching, suddenly realized sothing.
“You’re a stalker.”
Mu-ryeong could’ve done this all along.
But instead, he had been holding back.
He had always been holding back. He could easily overpower spirits, yet he always chose to treat them kindly, as if they were still human. The lengths he had gone to for Hwan-hee’s salvation—it had all been because of Mu-ryeong’s own compassion.
“Even in death, you’re still like this.”
“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know anything.”
The spirit had stopped struggling. Slumping against the wall, he mumbled like a deranged man, his words spiraling into obsessive rambling.
“You don’t know how much effort I put in. I stood here every night, barely sleeping. She moved three tis, but I never lost track of her. Changed her number over and over again—do you know how hard it was for
to find it every ti? I—”
Fucking psycho.
Hwan-young bit back a curse, his jaw clenching.
So Mu-ryeong had been right. This wasn’t just so wandering spirit.
The words spilling from his mouth were enough to make bile rise in his throat.
For a mont, Hwan-young considered covering Mu-ryeong’s ears, shielding him from the disgusting words.
“I was so close. So close to finally getting my hands on her. That night—it was supposed to be the night.”
Even though he was already dead, there was still madness in his voice. His wide, unblinking eyes glistened with sothing rancid, sothing wrong.
“But of all fucking nights—”
“......”
That was when Hwan-young finally understood.
What had kept this spirit from moving on.
And from the silence beside him, he knew Mu-ryeong had figured it out, too.
Not all unfinished business was tragic.
So people died with regrets that weren’t worthy of sympathy.
Hwan-young felt sick.
“And now, all I need is his body, and you dare interfere?”
“...Ye-jun almost got arrested.”
If they had left things as they were, Ye-jun would’ve ended up in police custody for sothing he had no control over.
Mu-ryeong must have realized it, too, because when he turned to look at Ye-jun, his expression softened slightly.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
Hwan-young narrowed his eyes, watching the spirit continue to ramble.
“I will not go like this. There is no such thing as failure in my life...”
The nonsense spilled endlessly from his lips—how he would succeed this ti, how he deserved compensation for all his efforts. There wasn’t even a hint of remorse, just endless bla thrown onto others.
If anything, this guy should already be a vengeful spirit.
Wouldn’t it be better to just erase him? Why waste ti listening to such disgusting regrets? Maybe it would be better to make sure he didn’t exist at all.
He didn’t want Mu-ryeong to suffer through this. Didn’t want to watch him bear the burden of another wretched soul.
So, without thinking, Hwan-young loosened the spiritual barrier he had always kept up—a natural shield, sothing he had maintained instinctively. It was a protection that ensured he wouldn’t carelessly destroy spirits, sothing he had once used to protect Hwan-hee. But now, he let it drop.
He took a step forward, his hand reaching toward the spirit.
“No.”
Before he could touch him, Mu-ryeong’s hand clamped down on his wrist.
His grip was firm, his head shaking in silent refusal. The other hand lifted, fingers parting. A sharp whistle cut through the air.
“What—what the hell?”
Whoosh.
Brilliant blue flas ignited into existence.
One, two, three. They flickered like dancing embers, suspended midair as if waiting for orders.
“What is that? Fire? What are you doing?!”
“Shut up.”
Hwan-young muttered irritably.
The mont their gazes t, the spirit flinched and shrank back. He must have sensed sothing—his trembling body, his eyes darting to the ground in terror, said as much.
“Why not just erase him?”
Did Mu-ryeong actually feel bad for him?
Did he believe every lingering regret deserved to be heard?
But no... Mu-ryeong’s eyes held no sympathy. There was no softness in his gaze.
“The underworld will judge his cris.”
His voice was unwavering.
That was it.
Mu-ryeong had no intention of giving him another chance. He simply refused to overstep his role.
Hwan-young furrowed his brows. Did that an there was a way to send him to the afterlife? Before he could ask, Mu-ryeong turned back toward the flickering flas and spoke.
“You can eat today.”
The blue flas flickered.
As if hesitant. As if they couldn’t believe the words they had just heard.
Expression unreadable, Mu-ryeong gestured toward the spirit with a tilt of his chin.
“All of it. Don’t leave anything behind.”
“......”
In a flash, the flas lunged.
The movent was so fast that it was impossible to react.
Like wild beasts, they swelled in size and latched onto the spirit, engulfing him completely.
“What the hell—get off! Fuck!”
The flas spread rapidly. The spirit flailed, screaming as he desperately tried to shake them off, but the blue fire only burned brighter, licking up his body. His head, arms, legs—everything was consud.
“No, stop! Don’t—! AAGH!”
“......”
Hwan-young watched, montarily taken aback.
He had known these flas weren’t hot—yet sohow, the sight before him felt brutal.
It wasn’t satisfying.
He had thought it would be, but no—the screaming, the writhing—none of it felt good to watch.
He had wanted this, hadn’t he?
Then why did his stomach churn like this?
Mu-ryeong must have noticed his discomfort because his hand reached out, gently grasping Hwan-young’s arm.
“It’s okay.”
His voice was steady.
Those bright, unshaken eyes t his. The warmth of his touch, even through fabric, was grounding.
“They’re eating his ?? Nоvеl??g??t ?? (Official version) mories.”
“...mories?”
“Yeah. mories.”
The blue flas cast a glow over Mu-ryeong’s features—reflections dancing across his dark eyes, tracing the smooth bridge of his nose, flickering over his slightly parted lips.
Like standing before a real fire, his face was illuminated in shades of blue, soft shadows shifting against his skin.
“Goblins feed on mories. That’s how they survive.”
The agonized screams soon began to fade.
And when the last of the sound vanished, the flas detached from where the spirit had been, floating lazily back into the air.
Hwan-young stared at the empty space where the spirit had once been. His lips pressed into a firm line.
“All the lingering regrets were eaten, too.”
Nothing remained.
Not his voice, not his form, not even his wretched aura. It was as if he had never existed at all.
“...So he’s gone?”
“Yeah.”
Mu-ryeong nodded.
The goblins flickered contentedly, floating in the air as if satisfied with their al. Mu-ryeong waved a hand, and without hesitation, they dissipated, disappearing without so much as a complaint.
“It probably hurt when they ate him.”
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