Chapter Text
Baek Saheon sat behind his father in a proper posture on the wooden floor of their home. One could say he was accompanying his father as he delivered guidance in his role as the cult leader trusted by the village.
Several visitors from the city sat before them, dressed in neat shirts and carrying desperate hopes in fortune-telling and supernatural powers. His father listened to their nonsense with a solemn expression.
That was how it had always been.
As the son of the village chief and the heir to a bloodline of shamans, Saheon was expected to learn by observing his father's work firsthand.
The power was real.
The only difference was that greedy and desperate people had to pay a price to receive his family's help.
Since childhood, Saheon had been trained to become his father's successor. He knew exactly how much money cult members were expected to offer in exchange for their blessings.
"Saheon, bring Father the incense."
His father, dressed in traditional robes so dark they were almost black, held out a hand.
Saheon passed it to him.
Only after a thick stack of cash had been placed before him did his father release the eerie aura that only Saheon could see.
The pain of maintaining that control was immense, yet his father never revealed it in front of the cult members.
Then chaos erupted.
An agent wearing a distinctive red jacket suddenly grabbed a man in a brown shirt and retreated at incredible speed.
Ah.
The agent fled with the unconscious man, clearly aware that his actions had drawn the cult's attention. Yet Saheon's father remained completely unbothered, even after one of their members had been taken away.
Of course.
His father already knew the man was an agent sent by the Disaster Management Bureau—though from which division, Saheon wasn't sure. Their goal was always the same: rescue a civilian who had realized they were being deceived and could no longer escape the village.
Who cared?
The agents knew they lacked the power to destroy the cult itself. They were far too weak to oppose the Baek family and the infamous Jisan Village.
"Please remain calm."
The moment his father spoke, every cult member obediently sat back down.
Saheon merely watched in silence.
[#—#]
The supernatural activities of Jisan Village were an open secret.
If you wanted wealth, you sought out the Baek shamans.
If you wanted fame, you asked for their blessing.
That was simply how things worked.
The villagers respected and feared the Baek family in equal measure.
"Your son is perfectly suited to inherit your bloodline, Village Chief."
A middle-aged woman who had come to have her future read openly glanced at Saheon as she spoke.
"That's why I've made him my right-hand man," his father replied calmly. "He must be prepared for the future."
Saheon endured the conversation in silence.
To begin with, he had never known what he wanted from life. But inheriting his father's position did not sound particularly bad.
So he accepted it.
After the woman left, Saheon rose alongside his father.
"Come, son. Let's take a look at the festival outside."
His father gently pushed the back of his nineteen-year-old son, he'll turn twenty tomorrow.
The Jisan Village Festival.
As lively as it was every year.
Today, Saheon wore a white traditional outfit adorned with a red feather emblem over his chest. Villagers crowded around tables laden with meat and alcohol.
Still, he understood why his father had brought him here.
Besides displaying the authority of the Baek family and its worthy successor, his father also had information to share.
"Do you see the man in the blue jacket sitting at the end of that table?"
His father spoke quietly, though the smile never left his face.
Saheon glanced toward the man.
Messy hair that somehow still looked neat, glasses, and the kind of friendly face typical of an agent. Saheon would have recognized him even without his father pointing out the description.
He sat among the villagers without eating, simply chatting with them.
"He's the new agent sent by the Disaster Management Bureau," his father informed him. "Like every year, an agent comes here to save someone."
No agent had ever managed to stop the shamans of Jisan Village.
The best they could do was rescue a civilian or two.
"Keep an eye on him. Or curse him."
His father's hand tightened on Saheon's shoulder.
"I trust you. Tomorrow isn't ideal with an agent present, but it's still the first day you'll lead the cult beside me. The date is auspicious."
Saheon nodded.
Of course he would not disappoint his father.
He had worked hard to earn his place at his father's side. The villagers trusted him. They believed he possessed the same power.
One Disaster Management Bureau agent fleeing with a civilian every year was hardly a tragedy for Jisan Village.
I'll be careful and let him leave without damaging my reputation.
As the thought crossed his mind, Saheon glanced toward the young agent again.
Their eyes met.
Thump.
Saheon immediately looked away.
Ridiculous.
Why had he looked away?
As the future shaman leader, he should have remained composed.
"Greetings, Young Shaman and Village Chief."
A middle-aged man and his son approached them.
His father greeted them warmly, and Saheon offered a polite smile.
They spent the next several minutes greeting followers and reinforcing trust.
That was important.
The traditional Jisan stick lottery began shortly afterward.
Excited chatter immediately spread through the crowd.
Saheon watched as people eagerly reached into the box, hoping to draw a gold-colored stick.
When the box finally reached the agent, he only stared at it for a moment.
Perhaps he was trying to think of a way to avoid participating.
But in the end, he slipped his hand inside.
Unfortunately, he didn't draw a gold stick.
Saheon felt a trace of disappointment.
It would have been better if that source of trouble had died from the gold stick.
Yet once again, the agent looked at him.
This time, Saheon didn't look away.
He simply returned the gaze with cold, untouchable eyes.
He expected the agent to lower his head and avoid drawing attention to himself.
Instead, the man smiled and tilted his head slightly, as if greeting him from across the crowd.
Saheon maintained his irritated expression.
Wasn't he intimidating?
He was the son of a powerful shaman.
Even now, Saheon could curse him from where he stood.
Someone sitting beside the agent patted him on the shoulder.
Judging by the identical jacket, it was probably his partner.
The two exchanged a serious conversation.
His partner glared for a brief moment before letting out a sigh and nodding.
Perhaps they were searching for a civilian who had asked for help and couldn't find them anywhere.
In any case, Saheon no longer cared.
His father became occupied listening to an elderly woman's complaints about her health while Saheon stood beside him, returning greetings from passing villagers.
Quietly, Saheon began listening to the concerns and complaints of the people who stopped by to speak with him as well, doing the same work his father did.
"Greetings, Young Shaman."
Saheon lifted his head automatically.
Blue jacket.
The agent.
Bold, Saheon thought.
"I'm new here," the man said. "It's a shame I arrived on the last day of the festival."
So he was trying to make conversation.
"Then you can come again next year."
Typical.
Disaster Management Bureau agents always arrived on the final day of the three-day festival.
But Saheon could not afford friendliness.
His father had instructed him to make the agents understand exactly who ruled this village.
Even though the agent smiled at him with complete sincerity.
"Young Shaman, you must be very talented."
The compliment sounded hollow to Saheon.
Don't think you can manipulate me just because I'm young.
"Enjoy the food."
A clear dismissal.
The agent hesitated before smiling again.
"Of course. But wouldn't you like to chat for a moment?"
"Not at all."
Yet the man remained standing there.
Wasn't he being suspiciously obvious?
This agent was reckless. Far too reckless.
Saheon lowered his gaze again.
Then he felt something brush gently against his forehead. Warm, slender fingers swept gently across his forehead.
The agent was touching his hair.
Startled, Saheon stepped back.
"What are you doing? Touching someone without permission?"
The agent froze, his hand suspended awkwardly in midair.
"I... sorry, Young Shaman." He scratched the back of his head. "Your hair looked soft, so I touched it without thinking."
What a strange person.
Saheon had never shared physical contact with anyone outside his family.
And this bespectacled loser had the audacity to touch his hair so casually.
Doesn't he value his life at all?
The agent raised his hand again.
"For introductions, my name is Agent Grape."
He was offering a handshake.
Saheon stared at it.
After a moment, the agent lowered his hand without offense, that foolish smile still on his face.
"And your name?"
Was he seriously introducing himself?
How disrespectful.
"I don't share my name with strangers."
"Baek Saheon, right?"
Saheon nearly sighed.
If he already knew, why ask?
"Correct."
Even speaking with him was exhausting.
Agent Grape nodded happily at the confirmation.
"Do you rarely smile?" Agent Grape asked. He was still trying to make small talk.
"I only smile for important people."
You're not important, you nerd.
Saheon's thoughts continued mercilessly.
"Could you take a look at my face, Young Shaman? And read something from it?" the agent suddenly asked.
Saheon took a breath.
The safest option right now was to humor him, as long as it stayed within the limits of what he knew.
Saheon leaned closer.
He studied the man's face carefully.
Well, he looked fairly decent...
Then Saheon noticed something he hadn't paid attention to before.
Those unusual red pupils.
"So?" Agent Grape asked. "What do you see, Young Shaman?"
"Um."
Saheon spoke in the same measured tone his father often used.
"You have good fortune."
"Really?"
Stop asking questions before I kick you.
Saheon stared at him with obvious disinterest.
"Yes."
Strangely enough, that sincere smile irritated him.
Why did he keep smiling like an idiot?
"Then I feel even more confident now." He said.
"Saheon?" His father approached, his sharp gaze settling immediately on the agent. Stepping between them, he subtly shielded Saheon from view.
"Blessings upon you, Village Chief." Agent Grape bowed.
Still looking just as foolish.
Perhaps even his father was confused.
No agent had ever revealed himself so openly.
"Do you need something?" his father asked coldly.
Agent Grape suddenly looked bashful, almost painfully polite.
"Yes, actually."
Both father and son fell silent.
"Then come inside." His father said.
After a brief moment of consideration, his father gestured toward the house.
Without hesitation, Agent Grape removed his shoes and climbed the wooden steps.
He sat on the floor exactly as any cult member would.
His father settled himself before the nearly extinguished incense burners, while Saheon sat beside him.
This was not an audience session.
"Actually, you could leave without any trouble. We don't care. Isn't that right, Agent of the Disaster Management Bureau?" Look at his father expression when ask that.
Then, Saheon watched Agent Grape carefully.
Cornered, yet strangely calm.
Far too calm for someone sitting in the heart of enemy territory.
"That's right. I'm a new agent with the Disaster Management Bureau," Agent Grape explained honestly.
And that was suspicious.
Could it be that he wasn't alone? Maybe he had brought teammates with him and was simply acting as bait.
Saheon ran through countless possibilities in his head.
What irritated him the most was that Agent Grape kept glancing at him whenever he had the chance.
"Please behave yourself."
His father had noticed it as well and motioned for Saheon to sit a little farther back.
If this agent's goal was to kill his son and weaken the mystical power their family possessed, then he was a serious threat.
"Ah, right. My apologies, Village Chief."
Agent Grape immediately straightened his posture.
Saheon watched as his mother brought alcohol and grilled meat from the kitchen for their uninvited guest.
Agent Grape stared at the food in silence.
Right.
Every Bureau agent was taught never to eat the village's food—Huh?
Saheon nearly choked.
Agent Grape picked up a skewer of meat and took a bite.
Then he poured himself some alcohol and drank it as well.
"Thank you, Madam Village Chief."
The agent spoke politely to his mother.
She looked just as confused.
It was obvious that she knew he was a Bureau agent too.
And what exactly was a Bureau agent doing in their house?
His father became even more cautious.
"If you're being open about your identity, does that mean you believe there are civilians trapped here?" his father asked.
Agent Grape placed both hands together on top of his folded knees.
"Actually, I'm not here because of any civilians..."
"Then what are you here for?" Saheon's father asked.
"Well, I know this is sudden, um..."
Hesitantly, Agent Grape pulled a small box from his jacket pocket.
He opened it and placed it on the floor.
Right in front of the incense, where offerings of money were usually laid.
"Oh..." His father's voice nearly gave out. "You seek our mystical assistance?"
Agent Grape shook his head.
Inside the box was an expensive ring, glittering beneath the light.
"No."
He took a breath.
"I want to ask for your son's hand in marriage."
...?
Huh.
Saheon froze.
His father's jaw dropped.
To Be Continued...