Chapter 19 - Ghostbuster (3)

I had no idea how to get the materials I needed.

Yohan had tossed the grimoires aside, but naturally, that didn't mean he'd given up on making pentacles. He lay on the hotel bed and spent some time thinking about his plans and what to do next.

Honestly, precious metals like gold and silver were expensive, but they were readily available, so that was fine. The rare materials were the real problem.

A quick search turned up some information on mercury-containing alloys, like the one needed for Mercury's pentacle. A common example was amalgam, a metal used in dental treatment, which apparently mixed mercury with silver or gold.

The stuff they used to fill teeth. Turns out that was pricey too.

I could probably mix it with some other metal, but since this was mercury, I wanted to use something proven safe. Anyway, since it was a material used in dentistry, I wasn't sure I could even get hold of it. And even if I somehow got all the materials, turning each metal into a disk of the size I wanted was another problem.

If I had blacksmithing skills and a forge somewhere, I could just get the metal and hammer it into shape. Naturally, I had neither.

Honestly, this wasn't the only issue. If I wanted to keep learning new magic, I'd need all sorts of materials. I wasn't one of those DIY masters on YouTube. There was a limit to how much I could cobble together on my own.

So the idea I came up with—though it was still pure fantasy and speculation—was to find a society of magicians. A market that sold materials.

Those officials who'd come to Smith's mansion instead of the police proved there was a secret government organization managing uncanny incidents. In that case, there should also be a social network among magicians. A community. I'd find it.

Where people gathered, there was trade. There should be a market specializing in materials for magical rituals too.

Still, this was only a guess. I didn't even know whether such a thing existed.

<Mysteries of the Worm>, <The Lesser Key of Solomon>.

I thought about the two grimoires I owned.

I jokingly mocked them as junky, mediocre grimoires, but... they were probably incredible things. Not that I knew their exact value, since I'd never formally studied magic.

Anyway, if an organization of magicians existed, I couldn't rule out the possibility that they'd come after my grimoires. One wrong move, and I could end up being targeted by other magicians on top of the government organization.

"..."

For a while, I stared blankly up at the hotel ceiling.

It made me uneasy, but in the end, the conclusion was already decided. I knew there were risks, but... if I'd decided to live as a magician, I had to find out whether there was a society of magicians.

I'd be careful where I needed to be and make use of whatever I could.

After all that deliberation, nothing much had changed. For now, I'd do what I could and wait for a chance to gather information.

And what I could do was, naturally, exorcism. Ghostbuster work.

"Gyaaah~."

I listened to Grizzly's cry and the splashing of water from the bathroom.

I needed to train Grizzly too. There was plenty to do.

* * *

"Hmm... You're all right, but there's something missing."

Minjun, an aspiring model, failed another interview while hearing those familiar words for what felt like the hundredth time.

He'd shot up in height in high school, and with his decent looks, people had often told him he was handsome and looked like a model. In his youthful innocence, he'd assumed he could naturally become one.

But reality hadn't gone the way he wanted.

Minjun worked his part-time restaurant shift, dwelling on the interview he'd failed.

"Thank you for waiting. Here's your order."

It wasn't the glamorous life he'd dreamed of when he was young. But he wasn't suffering through anything that made him want to kill himself, nor was he unhappy with his job.

He just had a vague anxiety... How long would he have to keep living like this?

Was he letting the impressive-sounding label of "aspiring model" swallow him whole while his life slowly went down the drain? Those gloomy thoughts came especially often on days when he failed an interview.

As time passed and closing time drew near, Pedro, a Black man wearing an apron, came out from the back of the restaurant.

"Minjun~ The boss says we're closing up early today."

"Okay."

His coworker was a decent guy who spoke Korean well and worked hard. They were closing earlier than usual because they were holding a farewell party for Pedro, who was quitting his job and returning home.

After finishing the farewell party over some of the restaurant's food, drinks, and conversation in the empty dining room, they headed home.

On his last day at work, Pedro noticed that Minjun, a good coworker and friend, was depressed after failing yet another modeling interview. Concerned, he spoke up.

"Minjun, have you ever heard of Voodoo?"

Caught completely off guard by Pedro's question, Minjun answered in a rather stupid voice.

"Huh...? That thing in horror movies where they put curses on people and make zombies?"

Pedro laughed.

"Haha~ That's not it. That's an impression that came from mixing it with American occultism. Real Voodoo is about serving the loa and receiving their help."

"... Help?"

Was it the alcohol, or was it because he was depressed? The story was ridiculous, but Minjun listened to Pedro.

At Minjun's home, he got a white dressing table made for women, just as Pedro had told him.

"Pedro, will this do?"

"Yes, that'll do. Erzulie Freda, the loa of love and beauty, likes white and pink."

Pedro sprayed perfume over the dressing table and set a small framed portrait of a beautiful, benevolent-looking goddess with snowy-white skin on top.

Minjun looked at the goddess's portrait with a cautious gaze, as though something was bothering him. Pedro smiled knowingly.

"Surprised that a goddess from Voodoo, an African folk religion, is white?"

"Huh? No... Well... A little?"

"Some loa are indigenous to Africa, but others were born when Black slaves sold to different places during the colonial era combined them with the gods of those regions."

Listening to Pedro's explanation, Minjun gazed at the portrait of the benevolent-looking goddess.

"Erzulie Freda was born from the hopes of Black slaves brought captive to Europe. They saw pictures of the merciful Virgin Mary and goddesses and wished they would save them."

"But she's a mixture of several goddesses, so she's different from Mary. She likes handsome men. Has lots of lovers."

Pedro's continuing explanation bewildered Minjun.

"Huh?"

"Now you'll become Erzulie Freda's devotee and lover, and receive her help."

Pedro's explanation boiled down to this: as Erzulie Freda's lover, he was to care for the dressing table that served as her altar, wiping it clean and spraying it with perfume every morning. If he offered her dresses, accessories, and sweet desserts, Erzulie Freda would bring him good luck.

"But there are precautions. Erzulie Freda dislikes the smell of tobacco and marijuana. You must never smoke or do drugs."

"Also, she's a benevolent loa, but she's very jealous. Since this is a romance between a human and a loa, she allows you to date human women. But you must never sleep with another woman in front of the altar."

The more Minjun heard, the more he wondered what the hell he was doing. Still, he had nothing to lose by giving it a shot, even if it turned out to be nonsense, so he decided to try.

Of course, Pedro didn't think any of this was real either. Before leaving Korea, he simply wanted to restore his good friend Minjun's confidence—to give him the placebo effect of believing a goddess was helping him.

It just so happened that the ritual took place at a time when <The Eighth Book of Moses>, <The Book of the Angel Raziel>, <The Lesser Key of Solomon>, and <Mysteries of the Worm> had gathered in one place.

These were grimoires that would drive any magician mad with joy—and, if things went wrong, might drive them genuinely mad. Their presence had drawn mystical forces to Korea. And since Minjun was Erzulie Freda's type, the ritual actually took effect.

On the day he set up the altar, Minjun saw a beautiful goddess in his dreams.

And then...

"My eyes keep coming back to you. You've got a good vibe."

He passed a modeling interview.

"Hey, I'm only telling you this. Buy some of this stock now, before it takes off."

"... Really?"

Minjun tried to buy the stock he'd been told about, but ended up buying a different one.

"Ah... I bought the wrong one."

The stock he'd bought by mistake skyrocketed.

Good luck clung to him, and everything he did went well.

And then...

In the upscale studio apartment he'd moved into, his pretty new model girlfriend pointed at a closed bedroom door.

"Babe, what's that room?"

"Ah~ That~ Don't worry~ about it."

It was the room decorated with offerings and the dressing table that served as Erzulie Freda's altar.

Minjun spoke with glazed eyes as he smoked marijuana he'd been given with the assurance that every successful model did it.

"... If it's nothing to worry about, you won't mind if I open it!"

His girlfriend, who was also high on marijuana, opened the door. Seeing the extravagant dresses and glittering precious-metal necklaces and earrings, she smiled and stepped inside.

"Haha! It's like a doll's room."

She took out a dress and held it up against herself, beckoning to Minjun.

"Babe~ Come here."

As though entranced, Minjun approached and kissed her. Clothes came off, and bare flesh pressed together.

The portrait of the goddess on the white dressing table trembled and fell over.

‧

‧

‧

... And now.

At a café, Yohan finished listening to the haggard-looking Minjun's story.

"I see. ... That must have been difficult. Thank you for telling me everything honestly."

He tried not to let it show, but looked at Minjun with weary disbelief.

Crazy bastard... He'd gotten high, had sex, and done everything he'd been told not to do.

My brow furrowed all on its own.

Was he not taking it seriously because it was occult stuff?

To put it in terms of real-world safety precautions, this was—

Basically, he'd grabbed a pair of chopsticks and shoved them into an electrical outlet while soaking wet.

I looked at the Ghostbuster business card I'd given Minjun earlier.

... Sorry to say it, but I wanted to take my card back and go home.