An Unbreakable Bond

“There’s no record of Park Hak-soo at the Samdo River.”

Horang sighed at Jeha’s call.

If he hadn’t crossed the Samdo River, it meant he was still somewhere in the mortal world.

“Speaking of which, boss. If there’s a lot to investigate, can’t we postpone consultations?

Besides the Vajra Warriors, even the Four Heavenly Kings have been poking my side with their spears since earlier.”

“That’s an occupational hazard. Ghosts usually explode when they’re killed, but you don’t burst when poked.”

“Trying to pop a perfectly fine ghost like an infinite bubble wrap is also a problem. Agh! Ouch! I said it hurts!”

A scream from Jeha echoed through the phone call, suggesting someone had poked him again with a weapon.

Horang checked the time.

“How many consultations are left?”

“Twenty-two.”

With twenty-three entities registered in the Underworld Hall, it meant he had only managed to finish one since morning.

At this rate, the time spent was almost wasted.

“…Go to the office now and bring the original sales document for Park Hak-soo here.”

“Really? I’ll be right there!”

Horang confirmed Jeha’s voice rising in excitement and promptly ended the call.

He cast a glance at Theodore, who was waiting with his hands in his pockets.

Theodore, too, was busily talking to someone before ending his call shortly after.

“Did you find her?”

Theodore shook his head.

“Kim Yeo-ryeong doesn’t have any cards or a cell phone registered in her name, so tracking her that way is difficult.

And finding her through tax payment accounts or mail records would take at least a day.”

Horang waved his hand, acknowledging.

“It’s fine if you couldn’t find her. If it gets too difficult, we can just call her directly.”

Anything with its feet on the ground would show up if the conditions were met.

It wasn’t unfounded confidence; it had always been true.

“The only drawback is that only their souls come.”

“Only their souls?”

Horang twisted his lips at Theodore’s question.

“Bringing their physical bodies is troublesome.”

Theodore chuckled.

“Bringing only their souls must require similar effort, though?”

“At least this way, I don’t need to worry about other people’s eyes; only the parties involved meet.

The aftermath is much simpler.”

Yi-sun, listening to the conversation happening right in front of him, narrowed his eyes.

“Excuse me for interrupting your discussion, but if ‘soul’ refers to the spirit, what happens to the remaining body?”

Horang’s indifferent gaze fixed on a distant point.

“Nothing much happens. They just go a bit far from where they live, that’s all. If they committed many sins during their life, they’ll undergo judgment in the Underworld Hall, and if it goes well, they might be imprisoned for quite a long time.

They’ll also work and reflect to atone for their sins in hell. But people do all that in the mortal world too, don’t they?”

Yi-sun wondered if that really was ‘nothing much,’ but he remained silent, letting his silence be his answer.

“Just in case, organize any questions you have. We need to handle it before the Underworld Envoys arrive.”

Horang said that and turned towards the main gate.

True to his ghostly nature, Jeha, arriving precisely when Horang expected him, poked his blonde head through the gap in the gate.

“I’m here! Hello, everyone! Oh my, it’s nice to see so many familiar faces meeting outside the house.”

Jeha cheerfully greeted them, bowed to the “customers,” and immediately stood before Horang.

“Boss, here you go.”

Horang tore open the multiple layers of oil-treated paper, dried and stitched with string, using his fingernail.

“Is this an iban?”

“Before computers became common, this was the standard format.”

Theodore let out a short laugh.

Horang, having checked the land deed issued by a Joseon Dynasty government office, confirmed that the name still tied to this land was Park Hak-soo.

A faint question slipped from his lips.

“Is there a problem?”

As Theodore asked, Horang lifted his eyelids.

“I don’t know yet, but it seems there is. A problem.”

Horang shook the iban in his hand. Theodore casually took it and unfolded it.

As he read the words written on the uncreased paper, his eyes narrowed.

“Kim Yeo-ryeong?”

“Exactly.”

Horang held his tobacco pipe between his lips.

“Park Hak-soo’s wife, Kim Yeo-ryeong.

So the client I’m looking for and the Kim Yeo-ryeong you’re looking for were a married couple?”

“Excuse me, but Kim Yeo-ryeong’s family register shows no family members.”

Yi-sun reopened Kim Yeo-ryeong’s family register, which Kang Hae-soo had looked up based on this address.

“It’s not legally binding, but since they held a wedding ceremony, her name is recorded here.”

Horang abruptly dismissed Yi-sun’s question.

“This is a document recorded in both Heaven and the Underworld. No one unrelated can have their name on it.”

He tapped the paper in Theodore’s hand with his tobacco pipe.

“So, one of the mysteries is solved, then?”

Theodore spoke as he folded the iban.

“The reason Kim Yeo-ryeong sold this land, bought it again, and is still not dead.”

“Because Kim Yeo-ryeong has the qualifications to be the owner of this land.

But one question still remains. Where is our client, who hasn’t died and gone to the Underworld, wandering?”

Jeha, who had been watching, shrugged.

“Usually in such cases, statistically, they’re either next to their enemy or their family.”

“We just need to confirm which it is.”

Horang looked around the house site.

The house, now with less spectral energy after the smoke he had just scattered had seeped into the ground, was visible.

He held the pipe between his lips and inhaled the rest of the smoke.

The smoke, having gone deep inside, escaped his lips and dissipated with his breath, rising like a small cloud.

“Bring them here.”

Horang’s fingertip lightly tapped the smoke, and it was carried by the wind, scattering in all directions.

Theodore, feeling a faint scent of blood on the breeze, observed Horang’s complexion.

Horang, still holding the pipe and inhaling the smoke from the burning herbs, had his yellow eyes half-closed by languid eyelids, as if to reveal nothing.

“Nurse Park!”

A nursing assistant waved her hand.

Nurse Park pulled her cart and hurried over as the nursing assistant bowed her head.

“They’re here again. Room 307.”

At the mention of Room 307, Nurse Park spun around.

The problematic individual with a sly smile instantly came to mind.

“They came quite urgently, didn’t they?”

“Did they bring anything?”

The nursing assistant nodded.

“Looked like a chicken box.”

“Again? Unbelievable, really.”

Nurse Park tried hard to suppress her urge to rush over immediately.

It was baffling why news outlets would report on nursing aides or nurses in care facilities mistreating patients, but never on a patient’s guardian harming a patient.

A strong urge to report it herself surged within her.

“But isn’t there a CCTV in Room 307 too?”

“You know, even if we watch it, we can’t do anything.”

There was a camera kept on with consent, in case elderly patients with limited mobility fell, but it was for observing the patient in emergency situations, not for monitoring guardians.

Nurse Park narrowed her eyes. Then she rummaged through her cart, found a glucometer and thermometer, and tucked them into her pocket.

“Are you going yourself?”

“Yes. I’ll just do a quick round.”

Nurse Park quickly walked down the hallway, opened the door to Room 307, and immediately pulled back the curtain around the bed.

“Elder Kim Yeo-ryeong—I’m going to take your temperature.”

Go Beom-woo, who was sitting in the visitor’s chair, awkwardly stood up.

Nurse Park glanced at the chicken box on the bed. Her brows furrowed but she quickly smoothed them.

Just in case, she checked Grandma Kim Yeo-ryeong’s face, but a patient who was fed liquid food through a nasal tube couldn’t possibly eat greasy fried chicken.

Nurse Park took her temperature as slowly as possible, touched the IV drip that needed no adjustment, then adjusted it again, and pricked a fingertip to check blood sugar.

With the son-in-law watching, seemingly waiting for her to leave, Nurse Park drew out the time as much as she could before speaking.

“Should I clear away the food you brought once you’re done eating?”

Cleaning patient rooms wasn’t part of her job, but it would be a huge problem if other patients visiting from other rooms got their hands on it.

It would also be a problem if it rotted away in a corner.

Go Beom-woo shook his head at Nurse Park’s words.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“…Alright.”

Nurse Park clenched her itching hands, wanting to snatch the box away, and slowly moved away from the bed.

As soon as she stepped outside, she heard the curtain being drawn behind her.

Nurse Park let her shoulders slump, sighed, and checked the time.

“Mother-in-law.”

Nurse Park winced, inexplicably choked up by the overly gentle voice.

Go Beom-woo quickly placed the chicken bone in his hand onto Kim Yeo-ryeong’s lips.

After silently counting to himself, he stood up. Just once was enough. No need to do it many times, just once. That was all.

It didn’t matter what happened to the chicken bones in the box now.

Go Beom-woo stood up, not taking his eyes off Kim Yeo-ryeong.

“I’ll be back.”

He haphazardly tied the plastic bag of the chicken box and tossed it into the trash can outside the hospital room door.

Go Beom-woo casually walked out of the room, passing by the nurses’ station.

The nursing assistant clicked her tongue as she watched his retreating back.

“Seriously, what are ghosts even doing? Why don’t they just go after people like that?”

As if hearing her, a hand reached out behind Go Beom-woo as he stepped into the elevator.

‘Die—!’

A hand from within the sleeve of a coarse canvas uniform seized Go Beom-woo’s neck.

“Achoo!”

Go Beom-woo flinched, his body shaking, and rubbed his nose with a finger.

“Ugh, why is there so much dust in the hospital?”

A bloody finger tore at Go Beom-woo’s neck in mid-air, but he showed no reaction.

The elevator doors opened, having swiftly reached the first-floor lobby.

Go Beom-woo walked out into the lobby as if nothing had happened.

‘Damn it.’

The owner of the clenched fist slowly revealed himself. A man in a worn and shabby old combat uniform bit his lip.

He would do anything if he could just kill those bastards, but it was agonizing and infuriating that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even touch them.

Then, a voice called to him.

Come.

The man looked up.