Chapter 22: Home Sweet Home (2)
Swoosh. Swoosh.
After the lavish housewarming party, only rhythmic breathing echoed softly throughout Ria’s small mansion.
Late at night, when everyone was asleep, the only person awake beside Ria was the gumiho whose hand had been caught by hers.
Until Ria fell asleep, the gumiho, who would ordinarily tell the elderly‐style old‐time stories that elders of that age might tell, could not bring himself to go to the bedroom assigned to him even after liberation had come.
“It’s not filled with life or soul. It’s merely clumped thoughts drifting in the world. I wouldn’t even call it a creature.”
Those harsh words he had spoken out loud filled his mind.
Just as his heart seemed to freeze cold in that moment, another voice was heard this time.
“Fox‑grandfather doesn’t have a place to sleep either. Let’s sleep here together with the raccoon dog. There are three rooms here!”
“This room would be nice for Fox‑grandfather. The fireplace is close by, and the windows are big!”
“Fox‑grandfather is……”
Even the early morning skylark would not be as loud as this child.
Unless he slept obliviously like now, he chattered on incessantly. Sometimes he asked questions that needed quite deep contemplation, and when such questions became tedious, he would hum a tune and wander around the café.
“Tch, the young thing.”
The gumiho disliked such maturity in Ria.
This child, made from collected benevolent thoughts, had never once thrown a tantrum or whined.
She didn’t want snacks, nor to watch comics, nor a toy.
All those things that might inconvenience other people were completely absent in her.
That fact made the gumiho feel even more uncomfortable.
“Will she live like that all her life? No. Since she’s not really alive anyway, no need to worry so much.”
The gumiho frowned, then repeatedly shook his head and smoothed out his frown.
“Good grief, am I haunted by a soulless body, or is that thing haunting me?”
Muttering softly as if barely audible, the gumiho suddenly disappeared from inside and reappeared outside the café.
“Are you going now?”
He had cast magic to prevent the sound of opening or closing the door from waking the soundly sleeping child, but the person awake turned out to be Jinseong.
“You’re already awake?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“You have no morning sleep like an old man. Tch! I’ll escort you out, so go on in.”
“I’ll hurry a bit.”
“What are you talking about?”
“......”
Instead of answering, Jinseong quietly looked into the gumiho’s eyes.
“Enough, you brat! You’ve been playing around with shamans, and now whenever you get a chance you’re trying to pull even the words locked inside me out. If you want to spout nonsense, go finish your sleep.”
“Please go.”
At Jinseong’s farewell, the gumiho paused in his step.
He suddenly realized anew that the place he would return to was this shabby café, not the NIS basement.
“Alright, I’ll go.”
Director’s Office, National Intelligence Service.
Although this was the office of the person in charge of the most secretive agency in the country, it wasn’t actually in a discreet location.
From the NIS headquarters entrance to the major road you could see everything at a glance, furnished with luxury but not excessive furniture, and even the trademark golf putting mat that such offices usually had.
There was even a nameplate boldly labeled “Director’s Office,” a symbol almost indicating how peaceful the country had been.
Every changing administration just placed someone decent yet uncontroversial there. That’s all the job took.
By nature of the work, all activities were classified. Due to the notorious reputations built by past governments, the phrase “no news is good news” became the most fitting for this agency long ago.
Because of that, the office’s owner, Director Oh Tae‑soo, had been enjoying a rather smooth life until recently.
After all, isn’t holding a country‑level directorship a great honor not everyone can attain?
Unless a staffer screwed up big or the government raised fierce words like “personnel reform,” a nearly carefree life until retirement was possible.
That was until the nuclear‑bomb level classified documents that Director Baek Mahyeon brought opened before his eyes last time.
“Is all of this true?”
“Yes, Director.”
“Who knows?”
“As with last time, it’s R‑level classified, so the only people who know all the information are currently Director, Deputy Director, and ten team members.”
Flip. Flip.
Director Oh Tae‑soo impatiently turned the thin file’s corners soaked in spit.
‘Why did this keep showing up during my term, geez. This is driving me crazy.’
He was dealing with information he didn’t really need to know. No, maybe it was better that he didn’t know.
After all, only two years remained in his term, and if he retired and received a plaque at the end, it would be someone else’s world entirely.
But despite such wishes, another time bomb had flown into the director’s office.
Click.
“Phew, continue.”
He inhaled a deep drag of the cigarette he never smoked indoors lest it cause a scandal, and the throbbing headache seemed to ease a bit.
“So. That tree?”
“On paper, it’s referred to as the Divine Tree.”
“I see. So, besides boiling two yokai we were managing, they also created that Divine Tree, right?”
“Yes.”
“Oh dear. Doya.”
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t management.
Both the gumiho and the raccoon dog possessed power enough to topple a nation. Claiming to control them was an audacious statement.
But the document at hand was a matter so serious that even such criticism seemed trivial.
“Isn’t this just Director Baek overdoing it for performance? Makes no sense.”
“The file contains only verifiable information based on team members’ testimonies and evidence.”
“No, a normal young man working a proper job opens a café, a Divine Tree grows there, those monsters and a shaman come as customers? On top of it, they’re close like friends? You expect me to believe that? What does Deputy Director Choi think?”
“I’ve just been briefed as well….”
The middle‑aged man called Deputy Director Choi trailed off. Wiping cold sweat with a handkerchief again and again, he looked more pitiable than Jinseong.
“These shamans are no mere charlatans. This Haedong Sinyuh is a shaman for whom both parties of the election once brought bundles of cash. If this leaks outside, politicians will rush to that café immediately. But that’s not the real problem now.”
Even if you conceded and excluded the shamans, they were still human, right?
The bigger problem was a Divine Tree in the form of a human yokai who was intimately close.
If the contents of the file were true, the youth named Kim Jinseong was undoubtedly the most dangerous individual currently in the Republic of Korea.
“Director Baek.”
“Yes, Director.”
“Let’s be honest with each other. How much do we know?”
It was a subtly pointed question.
What kind of uncontrollable mess could this be, that he couldn’t die alone and brought this bomb here twice?
“It’s not in the report because it’s my personal opinion, but both divine beasts already see Kim Jinseong as more than a friend. The shamans weren’t simply following the owner of the Divine Tree either. And... they also requested information about the R-class secret yesterday. This report is to approve the export of that classified material.”
“You do know this approval line goes all the way up to the Blue House, right?”
“He is the only person who has been to the Heavenly Realm. The information we give him is far less valuable compared to what we can get from him.”
Baek Mahyeon’s firm answer brought a moment of heavy silence.
“Still, since we’re paying him, can’t we say he’s on our side? I don’t think it’d be a big issue if we refuse. Wouldn’t it be serious if the higher-ups found fault?”
“If someone with that much influence were satisfied with just 3 million a month, would you be? Just squeezing the shamans alone could bring in billions. What were you even listening to earlier? So frustrating!”
“I’m sorry……”
“He’s kind-hearted and not greedy. The money he requested from us was reasonable at the time and more like a justification to keep running the café.”
“So in the end, he’s not someone we can coax.”
“That’s right.”
Thud.
The file laid open on the table was closed with a dull sound.
“Then that’s the conclusion. I’ll lift the restriction, so give him whatever he asks. No, serve him. Make it seem like we’re helping in every way possible. Got it?”
“Actually, separate from the monthly payments, we’ve taken full responsibility for remodeling the café.”
“Good! Just keep it that way! I’ll report to the Blue House myself, so let’s just please him and hope we get through the next two years without trouble. Just two years. He only needs to hold out until my retirement ceremony.”
‘Musa-anil (無事安逸).’
(A life free of trouble and at peace.)
It was the virtue Oh Tae-soo, the Director of the NIS, valued most.
‘Right, think positively, positively. After all, it's just legends or silly witness claims. What could possibly happen from seeing a few things?’
A few days later,
Well past regular working hours, the lobby of the NIS was in sudden chaos as if war had broken out.
“Hurry! The VIP will arrive soon! Where’s the vehicle now? Car type and plate number?”
(We haven’t received it yet.)
“That’s what you call a report? What if they can’t come through the entrance! Go check immediately! What about the CCTV?”
(Everything is turned off.)
A man in a black suit was sweating bullets as he gave nonstop instructions through his in-ear radio.
‘What the hell kind of mess is this in the middle of the night, damn it.’
No matter how special the position was, this sudden overtime—completely unrelated to his duties—made him even more irritable.
“Assistant Manager! Pant, pant.”
“What? Rookie, why are you coming this way?”
“They said you shouldn’t guide the VIP alone, sir. Ugh, I’m dying.”
The young employee, referred to as the rookie, stood beside the man, catching his breath repeatedly.
“Uh, by the way, sir.”
“What?”
“Have you ever met the VIP?”
“Yes.”
“Are they really like a sage who commands yokai?”
“Who said that?”
“Um, it’s in the report…”
The young employee trailed off, worried he had said something wrong.
“Close enough.”
“Huh? Really?”
That’s how it had been when the Divine Tree incident was being handled. He even made the gumiho dig and calmly dumped the work on him and showed up for work afterward. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, it would’ve been hard to believe.
Even a report claiming he had visited the Heavenly Realm had been submitted, so it wasn’t easy to dismiss the rookie’s assumption as pure nonsense.
“Then…”
Beep beep.
Just as the rookie tried to ask another question, a signal came through the radio.
(Assistant Manager, we’ve confirmed the license plate. The car… Oh, it’s entered! It’s coming up now!)
“These guys, can’t they ever confirm things quickly. You locked down the east building and the parking lot, right?”
(Yes, there’s no one here except our Team 1.)
“Good.”
As the engine sound and headlights gradually approached, the man pulled a small signal wand from his coat.
And shortly after, a very old compact car that looked like it might not even start again came to a stop in front of them.
“Where should I park?”
“How many times do I have to say just leave it anywhere on the roadside.”
“Elder, that’s really inconsiderate.”
“This is my house! What do you mean inconsiderate!”
“You’re a tenant, aren’t you?”
“Why you little—!”
“U-uh, you can just go into the parking lot over there.”
“Thank you.”
At the man’s awkward reply, Jinseong bowed politely and drove into the parking lot.
“Assistant Manager, that’s him, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And beside him is the divine beast, right?”
“……”
Divine beasts, who consider humans—said to be lords of creation—as mere bugs. To see such a divine beast treated like a bothersome old man… perhaps it was the shock of witnessing it firsthand?
The two stood silently for a moment, staring blankly in the direction the car had disappeared.