Chapter 11

In front of Suwon Station, the road stretched straight from the plaza. After about seven hundred meters, a turn into a side street led them to their destination. A yellow sign read [Seongbosal],¹ marked with fortune-teller symbols. Unlike other storefronts, the windows were plastered over with yellow film, blocking the view inside.

“Are you sure this is the address?”

Even after checking three times, Uwan asked again.

“This is it. Why? Don’t want to go in?”

Jinyoung teased, and Uwan shuddered.

“I hate these places. Hated them since I was a kid. I’ll wait in the car. You two go.”

“You really won’t come?” Beomjin pressed.

“I’m not going. And make sure you sprinkle salt on yourselves when you leave, or I won’t open the car door. Got it?”

With the Frog gone, only Tiger and Bear remained.

Beomjin had never been in a fortune-telling house before. The atmosphere was unsettling, but not enough to keep him out. He pushed the door open.

A white-painted parlor greeted them. Dark wooden furniture was neatly arranged, the air cold and silent, sharpened by the strong incense. The Horse scent was there—but faint.

“First time I’ve been in one of these,” Jinyoung whispered.

“Not my favorite either,” Beomjin murmured.

As if hearing them, the side room opened and a man in his late twenties stepped out in hanbok, powdered face smiling politely.

“My apologies. I didn’t know guests had arrived.”

“It’s fine. But…”

“Thank you for visiting. Unfortunately, the Madam has other engagements today, so consultations aren’t possible.”

He was polite—and human, not Beast-Blooded.

“Your Madam’s name is Jung Nain, correct?”

At Beomjin’s question, the man blinked.

“Yes. That’s her name. Why do you ask?”

“We’re from the Special Beast Investigation Unit,” Jinyoung said.

He looked blank. Of course—ordinary people had never heard of the Unit.

“Jung Nain hasn’t been reachable since two nights ago, correct?”

His startled expression was all the answer they needed.

“We’re investigating several disappearances, including hers. We need to know who visited her that evening. May we see the visitor log?”

“The… visitor log?”

As he hesitated, the phone rang inside. He excused himself and rushed back.

“Kim Sanghyun and Choi Huiseon must have been here,” Jinyoung whispered.

“Most likely. If not, that’s still useful,” Beomjin replied. She wasn’t just tagging along—she was piecing the puzzle together.

“The ritual circle at the crime scene… maybe this Madam taught it to them.”

He muttered the thought, but then the man burst out of the room, pale.

“Th-the Madam! The police said—she’s dead!!”

…

They could only watch as he collapsed, weeping.

Even after calming down, the man kept sobbing, breath hitching like a child.

“Are you alright?” Jinyoung asked gently.

He raised a hand to reassure them, though tears still leaked.

After five long minutes, Beomjin clapped sharply.

“Pull yourself together! This isn’t the time to cry. Stop!”

Harsh, but effective. The man flinched and steadied himself.

“To find out what happened to Jung Nain, to catch her killer—we need your help. Focus.”

The man sniffled and nodded. Beomjin opened the visitor log.

“You must remember this name—she came often, didn’t she?”

Beomjin pointed to three characters: Lee Hyunjeong.

The man’s eyes widened. He looked at them, suspicious now.

“Wait… where did you say you’re from again?”

“The Special Beast Investigation Unit,” Jinyoung answered firmly.

But his eyes narrowed, muttering the name as if testing unfamiliar words.

“What kind of place is that? Never heard of it.”

Before Jinyoung could reply, Beomjin stepped in.

“It’s not surprising. We handle special incidents, especially ones involving beast traits.”

“…I see. So you’re saying this is one of those special cases?”

“From what we’ve seen, yes. Don’t you agree, Agent Seo Jinyoung?”

Caught off guard, she stammered, “Uh—yes. Definitely a special case.”

“See? Our top agent says so herself.”

Dazed and overwhelmed, the man accepted it.

Beomjin pointed again at the log.

“This person—what can you tell us?”

“I know her well. Lee Hyunjeong was very close with the Madam. Even outside the shop, they stayed in touch. She introduced many other clients too.”

“I thought so. And this name here—Choi Huiseon. Was she one of Lee Hyunjeong’s introductions?”

“Yes. Recently, Lee introduced her. She came with her husband several times. The Madam cared a lot, tried to help. Just two nights ago, she went out to assist Choi Huiseon.”

Beomjin clenched his fist. The links were forming—though it was Hyunjeong who had brought Huiseon to Nain, not the other way around.

“Do you know what trouble Choi Huiseon was facing?” Jinyoung asked.

The man hesitated, then admitted, “Only that her child was ill.”

So that was it. A friendly neighbor recommends a fortune-teller when a child is sick.

“She came often, then?”

“Yes. She was deeply distressed. They performed several gut rituals,² but there was no improvement. The Madam was worried too.”

Beomjin knew even from hearsay how expensive a gut could be. Multiple ceremonies meant serious money. That explained why Huiseon and her husband had gone to Haetsal Capital for loans. ³

The case was becoming clear. Only small details remained—and those could be answered once they found Kim Sanghyun and Choi Huiseon.

“Thank you. This is more than enough.”

The man looked at them desperately.

“Then… you’ll catch the one who killed the Madam?”

The man clung to Beomjin, hope shining through tearful eyes. His pitiful desperation only deepened Beomjin’s guilt.

“Yes,” Beomjin said.

“Please… I beg you.”

The man shook his hands again and again, bowing until his back bent nearly double.

Leaving the fortune-teller’s shop, Beomjin and Jinyoung headed for the car—only to run into Uwan stepping out of the sundae-soup restaurant next door, toothpick in his mouth. Spotting them, he waved cheerfully.

“You were eating? Alone?”

Jinyoung stormed up, glaring, and Uwan shrank a little.

“Well, you two weren’t coming out, time kept passing, my stomach was growling, then the sundae shop was right there, and the smell was irresistible… so yeah, I had a bowl. How’d it go inside?”

“It went,” Jinyoung muttered flatly. “Weeping, consoling, prying out information—it’s exhausting.”

“You threw salt too, right?”⁴

At her icy stare, Uwan lowered his tail.

“We’ve got enough to trace the case,” Beomjin said. “Let’s talk in the car.”

“Or—why not eat while we talk? You two must be hungry too.”

“You just ate.”

“Come on, when someone’s starving, two bowls aren’t unheard of. Nobody goes to a barbecue and orders just one serving.”

“Nobody eats two bowls of sundae soup either.”

Ignoring her scolding, Uwan waved them along like a street hawker.

“Let’s go! Tiger, Bear, either way you can eat sundae, right?”

Beomjin and Jinyoung exchanged a glance, then followed.

The hot broth spread warmth through their bodies, fatigue melting away with every spoonful.

“It’s good,” Jinyoung admitted, softer now, setting down her spoon after finishing her bowl.

“Then let’s review.”

Beomjin pulled over the salt, pepper, perilla-seed powder, two cups, and a side plate to the middle of the table. He began arranging them as props.

“It all started with the Rabbit couple, Kim Sanghyun and Choi Huiseon, and their sick child. I don’t know the illness, but it must have been desperate enough to turn to shamanism. Their neighbor, the Sheep Lee Hyunjeong, introduced them to the shaman Jung Nain. Maybe Huiseon even asked her for help.”

He placed two cups together, then lined the salt and pepper shakers beside them.

“They performed several gut rituals, but the child didn’t get better. The couple started running out of money. That’s when they went to the Snake, Moon Sajun.”

He set down the perilla-seed shaker next.

“My guess is Nain taught them the ritual circle. She told them about the samjae, said they needed three—maybe four—sacrifices. The couple followed her instructions, and that’s why the massacre happened.”

“So you’re saying,” Jinyoung said sharply, shoving the cup away, “that because of their sick daughter, they killed an innocent neighbor, a shaman, and a loan shark?”

Beomjin stared at the cup she’d pushed aside.

“Innocent or not—we don’t know yet. Maybe they felt they had no choice.”

His fingers scraped the table. He clenched his fist, recalling the memories that still burned in him.

I don’t blame you.

Her calm voice echoed in his mind. He wanted to say he was sorry, but if he spoke it aloud, he feared he’d collapse with her. Like before, he shut his eyes tight, as if to the heavens. He thought his tears had long since dried—but that was only self-deception.

Jinyoung’s voice cut through, firm.

“‘No choice but to kill’ doesn’t apply here. We’re the ones who stand in for the law. Murder can’t be excused.”

“I know. I’m not excusing it. I’m just saying—maybe there’s more to it we don’t see yet.”

She didn’t accept it, but didn’t push further. The air grew heavy, their talk grinding to a halt.

“So is it all sorted out now?” Uwan asked, breaking the silence.

“One piece is still missing,” Beomjin said, pulling the empty plate to the center.

“The last victim—the unidentified civilian. We still don’t know who they were, or why they were included.”

“Right. That guy. Who the hell was he?”

They all stared at the plate. Beomjin thought of the mutilated head, the savagely torn flesh. The cuts screamed of deep personal hatred.

As they left the restaurant, Jinyoung suddenly asked,

“What about that man from earlier?”

“Who?”

“The one we took to the hospital. He was unconscious when admitted. Will he be alright?”

“The hospital said they’d call if something happened. If you’re that worried, just call them.”

Neither Beomjin nor Uwan showed much concern.

At the car, they realized Jinyoung was on the phone nearby.

“She’s really calling?” Beomjin muttered.

“Guess so. Then at least open the car door for her,” Uwan replied.

They waited idly, until Jinyoung suddenly shouted, “What?!” She rushed back toward them, urgency in her face.

“Senior! That man—he escaped!”

“What?!”

Beomjin and Uwan’s jaws dropped.

“I asked how he was doing. They said he hadn’t regained consciousness but was stable. Then, when they went to check again, the bed was empty. He vanished!”