Chapter 9 - Boogie Boogie Boogie (1)

Park Cheolmin, the owner of the formerly haunted building, was in an excellent mood.

Ever since a young man named Kim Yohan had worked a shift as his night watchman, Cheolmin had stopped having strange nightmares, and strange things had stopped happening in the building. Apparently, the young man's claim about having good energy was true.

The rumors already circulating were not easily dispelled, so customers were still scarce, but business was steadily recovering.

He'd been worried he might have to hire a shaman. Thank goodness he'd saved that money. He needed to put money aside for tuition at the art college his daughter wanted to attend.

"Dad, hurry up!"

"All right, coming!"

At his daughter's call, Cheolmin continued around the exhibition. Just then, he heard people murmuring, and everyone's attention converged on one spot.

An elderly man with neatly groomed white hair, who wore his suit well, had arrived. It was Smith, the renowned painter of mixed American heritage. Though now retired, he remained an influential figure in the art world.

As Cheolmin approached to greet him, Smith recognized him and came over first.

"Cheolmin, it's been a long time. You're looking well today."

"Yes, yes! Sir, haha! Thank you."

Didn't they say that misfortune could turn into a blessing? Cheolmin had become acquainted with this famous, wealthy painter during a chance conversation at an exhibition he'd visited some time ago. Smith had taken an interest in the story of his haunted building.

"How have things been lately?"

"Oh, haha! I met someone who came to my rescue, and everything's been sorted out."

"Someone... who came to your rescue?"

At those words, Smith fell silent for a moment, considering, before he spoke.

"Cheolmin, if you don't mind, could you tell me more at the café over there?"

"Pardon? Yes! Of course."

Cheolmin readily brought his daughter along. Beginning with an unsolicited account of her artistic talent, he eventually moved on to his encounter with Yohan.

He embellished the story, saying he'd known Yohan was special from the moment he'd seen him, and that Buddha had taken pity on him and sent the young man to his rescue. Perhaps he genuinely believed it.

In any case, the upshot was that nothing strange had happened since Yohan's night-watch shift.

"I see... Thank you for telling me."

After finishing his conversation with Cheolmin and his engagements at the exhibition, Smith climbed into his chauffeur-driven car and headed home.

Leaving behind the city, where lights from buildings illuminated the night, the car took a quiet mountain road toward a Western-style mansion. He had originally used it as a vacation home, but now he was staying there so his ailing granddaughter could recuperate.

... Yes, it had been for his granddaughter's sake.

Smith looked at the mansion's door for a moment and let out a breath. As he entered the house, a piercing scream rang out.

"Aaaaaaaah!"

"...!?"

Smith hurried to his granddaughter's room.

"Emily!"

He entered through the already open door. His granddaughter Emily, a blonde girl whose skin was as pale as her snow-white pajamas, was curled up on the bed, trembling, tears running from her wide-open eyes.

"M-miss, it's all right. Please calm down."

The newly hired housekeeper tried to soothe Emily, but it was no use.

"Mom... Dad... They're talking to me."

His granddaughter's terrible nightmares, in which her dead parents appeared.

Smith approached the bed and gathered the frightened, trembling girl into his arms.

"Emily, it's only a nightmare. Only a nightmare."

"They look h-horrible, and they tell me... to hurry up and die."

"They would never say such a thing!"

But Emily's trembling did not subside. Seeing his granddaughter shaking in his arms was agony for Smith.

The unsettling things that had begun happening in the house one day. His granddaughter's nightmares. Sensing something was wrong, he had taken Emily to stay at a hotel, only for her to develop a high fever and vomit black blood. Even the doctor couldn't identify the cause. In the end, they had returned to this house, but nothing had changed.

If anything, it had grown worse.

"... Now I see the nightmares even when I'm awake. They whisper to me from inside the wardrobe, from on top of the bookcase, from the cracks."

This precious child, entrusted to him by his own child who had died.

Smith squeezed his eyes shut, overcome with grief at being unable to do anything for his suffering granddaughter.

"Lord... What has this child done to deserve this?"

At this point, he didn't care who it was. Even if the hope might vanish like a bubble, he wanted to try anything that could save his granddaughter.

With a trembling hand, Smith called Cheolmin.

"Yes... Cheolmin, it's me. ... Could you contact that young man, Kim Yohan?"

And beneath the bed, two heads, a man's face and a woman's pressed tightly together, were smiling with their mouths split all the way to their ears.

Long fingers tapped silently against the floor as they waited eagerly for fresh prey to walk in of their own accord.

They slid farther beneath the bed.

* * *

Yohan visited a department store with a shop selling traditional herbal medicines and bought powdered musk along with the other supplies he needed. Since he'd taken the opportunity to buy things besides incense ingredients, the expense was even greater.

In any case, the ingredients were ready, so he decided to get straight to making it.

I opened the grimoire in the kitchen and reread the section on magical incense to refresh my memory.

[The ingredients used in incense are not strictly fixed, and may vary by wizard and school. In Damascus, I found several curious ingredients and spices and tested them. They proved effective, which is why I use the ingredients listed here.]

My eyes narrowed.

Sir... If every wizard uses different ingredients and methods, couldn't you have used something cheaper?

Middle Eastern spice merchants... Those fucking bastards...

"Forget it. It's not like I'm giving it away. I'm using all of it myself, so I might as well use the good stuff."

Muttering to myself, I shook off the distracting thoughts and began preparing, holding the grimoire in one hand as I put the ingredients into an earthenware bowl.

Planetary days and hours weren't particularly important when making incense.

Step one in making magical incense: add aloe, nutmeg, benzoin, and musk, then crush and mix thoroughly.

I pressed, ground, and mixed the ingredients with a pestle.

Step two: once everything seems evenly mixed, recite the incantation.

"God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, grant this incense the power and virtue to attract good spirits and drive away evil spirits."

"Through the grace of the Holy Spirit, bestow protection and virtue upon whoever uses this incense. Lord, bless and consecrate it."

Once the incantation was finished, it was time to add more spices. This part simply said to add spices, so I decided to use what I had at home.

I sprinkled in some pepper, a classic spice. Since chili peppers counted as spices that added heat, I finely crushed some peperoncino and added that too.

For the fragrant oil, I'd considered using cooking oil, but since I'd already used good, expensive ingredients, I decided to use a good oil as well and added olive oil.

Then I mixed everything thoroughly again.

CLINK, CLINK

I narrowed my eyes as I looked down at the contents of the earthenware bowl.

'Am I a wizard... or a cook...?'

Anyway, to finish, I sprinkled holy water over the completed mixture with the holy-water sprinkler, then wrapped it securely in a soft cloth—a handkerchief—and put it away. That was it.

Whenever I needed it, I could take out the amount I wanted and put it into a fire.

And I had a use for it right away.

I took out the white trench coat I'd bought at the department store. Of course, I hadn't bought it because of a sudden urge to wear a coat. It was to make a robe that would protect me from evil spirits and assist my magic.

The robe had to be white, so I'd bought a white coat.

These days, fantasy stories favored casting magic by doing all the calculations in your head, without aids like staffs or crystal balls... Did I really have to prepare a robe too?

I inscribed the magical markings shown in the grimoire inside the robe in red ink, then wrote the names on the inside front, back, left sleeve, and right sleeve.

On the front, [YOD, HE, VAU, HE]; on the back, [ADONAI]; on the right sleeve, [EL]; on the left sleeve, [ELOHIM].

Then I lit a fire in the miniature brazier I'd picked up in the department store's camping section. I added the incense I'd made earlier, burning it and drying the robe in the rising smoke.

I fanned the smoke toward the coat I'd hung up.

The smoke smelled somehow special, yet... like smoked food? Something like that.

Anyway, with that...

Ta-da! The magical incense and robe were complete.

Then my phone rang.

I checked the number. It was Park Cheolmin, the man who'd posted the night-watch job ad last time.

I didn't think we had anything else to discuss... What did he want?

For now, I answered.

"Hello?"

"Haha! Mr. Yohan, I hope you've been well. This is Park Cheolmin. Thanks to you, I've been enjoying some peace."

My eyes narrowed immediately.

I hadn't done anything particularly deserving of respect. If someone addressed me so deferentially, they were either an exceptionally polite person...

...or they had some ulterior motive. One of the two.

Let's hear him out first.

"You're giving me far too much credit. Yes, go ahead."