Chapter 31 - Master of the Grimoire (3)

An old man with age spots on his wrinkled face. Kim Miryeo’s father, and the true owner of the sham farm that had operated as a human slaughterhouse.

Chairman Kim of ○○ Group tapped his index finger on the dark red cover of the grimoire <Cultes des Goules> lying on his elegant desk and spoke.

“So, that Kim—Kim—was it Kim Mija?”

Manager Kim, a man who looked like an educated gangster, answered cautiously.

“... Kim Miryeo, sir.”

Chairman Kim’s face twisted.

“Damn it! Once you have more than fifty children, you can’t remember every last name! It’s certainly not because I’m old! Not because I’m about to die!”

Apparently worn out by his own tirade, Chairman Kim leaned back in his chair.

“Enough. None of that matters anyway. ... That report is true, isn’t it? That <Mysteries of the Worm> appeared.”

Manager Kim answered immediately, careful not to upset him.

“Yes. According to inside information from the Special Response Section, it did. However, it vanished immediately afterward, so I don’t know whether it’s still in Korea.”

“... They say Miss Miryeo was chosen but failed to control it. Could that be true?”

Chairman Kim looked down at <Cultes des Goules>.

“They may be my children... but I don’t think any of them could be chosen by a grimoire.”

After all, even the grimoire he currently possessed, <Cultes des Goules>, had not chosen him. A vampire had given it to him.

“Perhaps it really did appear by sheer chance. Or else...”

Chairman Kim’s mouth opened, revealing the teeth of a beast as he formed a grotesque smile.

“She was used by the true master of <Mysteries of the Worm>.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

Chairman Kim gave an unpleasant chuckle as he addressed the wary Manager Kim.

“Investigate the list of victims abducted at the farm that day.”

His expression was not that of a parent whose child had died.

“... And someone with a healthy body. Yes, he might as well be handsome.”

He was simply filling with the joy of finally being able to obtain what he wanted.

“Bring me a list of entertainment trainees, too.”

The secret art of body theft contained in <Mysteries of the Worm>!

He could discard his rotting flesh and acquire a new body.

“... No, it might not be bad to try living in a woman’s body this time. I could even begin a new life in a child’s body.”

Drool trickled from Chairman Kim’s mouth at the joyous prospect of attaining true immortality rather than some paltry extension of his lifespan.

* * *

Chairman Kim was the largest financial backer of the Bureau of Anomalous Phenomena Countermeasures, seeking to exert influence over it.

Naturally, however, he was not its only patron.

A solemn-looking middle-aged man whose hair had turned snow-white far earlier than his age warranted.

After receiving information from the Special Response Section, Namgung Su picked up the old family photograph on his desk.

A picture of a younger version of himself and his little daughter smiling...

A family photograph from when his wife was still alive.

“...”

He touched the photograph with a trembling hand.

In search of magic that could reverse death... make it so it had never happened at all, he had gathered information from many sources, not just the Bureau of Anomalous Phenomena Countermeasures.

And at last, he had found a lead.

A grimoire said to have appeared on Korean soil.

The secret art of time regression contained in <Mysteries of the Worm>.

... Of course he knew it was dangerous.

But even so! He wanted to return to that time, even if only for a brief instant.

He wanted to bring back the wife who had died because of his choice.

Just then, his secretary spoke cautiously.

“Sir, your daughter says she’s going to volunteer at a church camp...”

“If she wants to go, she can go.”

Namgung Su’s reply was brief.

His weary eyes remained fixed on the past, when he had been happy.

* * *

A magician from Britain. An old man draped in a black coat.

Edward Coffin, a wanted necromancer, howled at the heavens.

“O Lesser Key of Solomon! O Lemegetooon!”

His voice heavy with obsession, he roared at the grimoire that had shown him not even the slightest trace of itself.

“Why! Why won’t you come to meeee—!”

How much magic had he demonstrated by now?

Yet <Lemegeton> had not appeared, as though it had no interest whatsoever.

Edward lowered his gaze from the sky. Then—

“... I see. Mere corpses aren’t enough, it seems.”

His eyes gleamed darkly as he muttered ominously.

“Aaah...”

An army of the dead followed Edward as he advanced toward a campsite near a reservoir.

If it wasn’t enough, he would increase the scale.

Those flies from the Special Response Section were pursuing him with increasing intensity, but that didn’t matter.

To <Lemegeton>, to that great grimoire—

“I am the one who shall wear Solomon’s crown. Look upon me, O Lemegeton.”

He would simply prove that he was the more suitable master.

* * *

Yohan’s small studio apartment.

He had finished studying magic.

As punishment for hiding that utterly hopeless trio of spells, which weren’t even anything special, <Mysteries of the Worm> had been left casually on the desk with a Post-it stuck to its black iron cover that read [I am a lewd grimoire].

Then Yohan reviewed <The Lesser Key of Solomon> to make a pentacle.

Just as a metal pentacle had to be made of the metal corresponding to the planet’s attributes, there was something to bear in mind when making one from parchment or animal hide.

Namely, the color used to draw the magic circle.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.

Silver for the Moon, red for Mars, mixed colors for Mercury, sky blue for Jupiter, green for Venus, black for Saturn, and gold for the Sun.

The magic circle had to be drawn on the parchment using the color corresponding to its attributes.

Still, whether it was metal or parchment, inscribing a magic circle didn’t mean—ta-da!—the pentacle was finished.

Fumigation. You had to purify the pentacle with smoke from a brazier while reciting an incantation to complete it.

“Let’s see... What ingredients do I have to burn in the brazier?”

Charcoal, aloe, frankincense, and mastic.

I blinked involuntarily.

... Mastic? What was mastic?

‘Help me, Google!’

An online search brought it up immediately. Thank goodness I lived in the modern age.

Mastic – A natural resin from mastic trees that grow on the Greek island of Chios.

My eyes narrowed of their own accord.

I wanted to twist my face into a furious grimace and scream:

‘Stop using rare ingredientsss!’

A little consideration for a novice magician would have been nice.

‘... Where do they sell it? Can I get it delivered?’

I’d been worried because mastic trees apparently only grew in Greece. But when I looked into it, I found that, thankfully, mastic was available in Korea too, perhaps because it was produced in large quantities as a health food good for the stomach. It was priced about the same as a nutritional supplement, too.

“... Frankincense is actually more expensive.”

Still, at least someone sold it. And I had a bit of money now.

After buying what I needed from an online store, I checked the time.

It was about time to meet my client.

An extermination request, of course. Work as a Ghostbuster.

I put on the white coat hanging on the wall. Then—

With a quick tug, I peeled the Post-it off <Mysteries of the Worm>.

I might make fun of it and give it a hard time, but it was an impressive thing, after all. I took good care of it.

‧

‧

‧

I had met the female client who’d contacted me about a ghost in her studio apartment, and now I was baffled, though I didn’t show it.

‘... There’s nothing here, though?’

Looking so pale she might faint at any moment, she pointed toward a corner of the wall.

“Wh-whenever I go near that wall, it feels colder, and I get a bad feeling. ... I-is something there?”

I examined the wall.

‘... No, like I said, there’s nothing here.’

She mentioned other things as well, as though they proved there was a ghost in the room, but to me, this seemed like stress-induced hypersensitivity. Psychological anxiety, maybe?

Her anxiety had conjured up a nonexistent ghost, making her believe the room was haunted.

The stress and anxiety she felt over the ghost might be real, but there was no ghost in this apartment.

‘I think she needs a professional counselor, not an exorcist...’

But even if I told her that, she wouldn’t listen.

She’d just think I was a fake exorcist instead.

I had no intention of persuading her or getting into an argument.

Well, exorcism was a kind of counseling service, too.

“May I take a look at the bathroom for a moment?”

“Huh? Yes! Is something wrong with the bathroom too? It feels damp in there!”

... Of course it was damp. It was a bathroom.

I went into the bathroom and quickly scoured her social media.

I discovered that a dog she’d kept for quite a long time had recently died.

A white female Maltese named Ppoppi.

“Okay, let’s go with this.”

A sigh escaped me, and I glanced off to the side.

“Haah... What am I doing?”

A little later.

The client sniffled as she stared toward the wall she’d said gave her a bad feeling.

“Hh... ugh... sob! S-so my Ppoppi really... came to see me... And I didn’t even know... I-I’m sorry.”

I spoke gently, sounding as sympathetic as I could.

“You don’t need to think that way. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“M-Mr. Exorcist... What is Ppoppi saying?”

‘Damn it... How am I supposed to understand a dog?’

Not that there actually was one here.

Anyway, I couldn’t back out after coming this far, so I offered some suitably pleasant words.

“... She says you should eat proper meals. Not order takeout so often.”

I glanced at the takeout packaging pushed into a corner of the room and continued.

“Even if it takes a little effort, she wants you to cook balanced meals yourself, get an appropriate amount of cardio, and maintain a good sleep schedule. ... Yes.”

“And she’s worried because she isn’t here beside you anymore. She says you should find a good professional counseling center and talk to someone there.”

The client wiped the tears from her eyes.

“P-Ppoppi can talk that well?”

I nodded while studying the wallpaper pattern.

“Yes... She’s a very clever dog. You raised her well.”

Time to wrap this up. What a pain.

“Lastly, she says she’s very grateful that you remember her, but she doesn’t want you to be depressed... She’s leaving now.”

The client sniffled as she looked at the wall.

“Sob... Ppoppi, okay. ... I’ll eat properly, exercise, and make sure I go to a counselor. ... Thank you.”

And with that, the job was done.

Another case solved! Except...

“Um, what about your fee?”

I sighed inwardly.

“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t an evil spirit, and I didn’t really do anything. Just a small consultation fee will do.”

... I hadn’t made much money, though.

With a small consultation fee and a mobile gift voucher for a brunch café, given to me with heartfelt thanks, as my spoils, I headed home and thought it over.

Had hitting the jackpot with Smith... given me the wrong idea?

Was being a Ghostbuster actually not a particularly lucrative profession?

Just then, my phone rang.

I checked the number. It was Ellie, the unusual nun I’d met at Smith’s mansion.

“Hello, Kim Yohan speaking.”

“Oh! Yohan! Hello!”

A warm, gentle voice greeted me when I answered.

“It’s Ellie. Do you remember me?”

“Haha! Of course I do.”

I didn’t have any bad memories of this nun, so I kept things reasonably polite.

“What can I do for you?”

“Well, this isn’t a Ghostbuster request... Actually, we need a helper for a church camp.”

Her cheerful voice came through the phone.

“Would you be able to help? Oh! Of course I’m not asking you to do it for free. You’ll be properly paid!”

One of my eyebrows rose at the unexpected request.

‘A helper at a church camp? Hmm?’

It didn’t particularly appeal to me, but if they were paying, there was no reason not to.

Sure. When business was slow, I could earn money doing other things.

“Could you tell me the schedule first?”