Mu-ryeong's Spirit-Chapter 46: The End of Despair (1)

The final exams were over. The humid summer monsoon had raged on throughout the exam period, drenching everything in its path. Last year, there had been a dry spell, not a single drop of rain, but this time, it was as if nature was making up for lost time, unleashing an endless downpour without rest.

Hwan-young sat by the window in his usual seat, staring blankly at the rain cascading down in streaks. On his desk lay a piece of chocolate, neatly placed there by Mu-ryeong that morning as a good-luck charm for the test. Four classes had passed, and all the exams had come to an end, but Hwan-young had yet to eat the chocolate.

"You all worked hard. Get home safely."

The moment the homeroom teacher finished speaking, the classroom erupted with movement. Students rushed to grab their bags and head out, eager to leave. But among them, no one stopped to speak to Hwan-young, who remained seated in silence. The school day had ended earlier than usual, yet only the dim light of the sun, hidden behind thick rain clouds, cast its faint glow over him. freёnovelkiss.com

Before long, the classroom emptied, leaving only Hwan-young behind. He tilted his head slightly upward, gazing at the overcast sky before closing his eyes. The darkness ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ behind his eyelids felt no different from the world before him.

"Hwan-young."

Whenever he closed his eyes, that voice would always return. Was it because the darkness reminded him of them? Or was it simply because he had yet to break free from that memory? The image that refused to fade unfolded in his mind as vividly as if it had happened just yesterday.

"Hwan-young."

A figure drenched in blood flickered before his eyes. At first glance, it looked human, but there was something grotesquely unnatural about it. The sickly blackened skin looked like it would stain his fingers with grime if he touched it—uglier than any ghost he had ever seen.

"..."

He inhaled deeply, and the images of his parents distorted in his mind, dissolving into something unrecognizable. In their place, another face surfaced—his younger brother, the one he had lost.

Once, his little brother had barely reached his waist. But as time passed, he had grown tall enough to hang from Hwan-young’s shoulders.

"Hyung."

The ghost had never once called out to him. And yet, Hwan-young had always heard its voice—whispering in his ear, gnawing at his shoulder, cursing him with the same question over and over again.

"Why are you the only one still alive?"

...That was a good question.

If he could, he would have asked someone the same thing. If this was how things were going to be, why hadn’t they just let him die too? Why had they left him to survive in this wretched state?

He remembered the day, just a few days ago, when he had stood on the rooftop, staring up at the sky in a daze. The sunset had been breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that even in his final moments of letting go, he had found himself mesmerized by it. The sight of the red-streaked clouds beneath the sinking sun had seared itself into his memory.

And then, at that exact moment—just before everything was about to slip away—the rooftop door had burst open, and a voice had called out.

"Ki Hwan-young."

His eyelids fluttered open.

The thoughts that had clouded his mind only seconds ago vanished without a trace as soon as light returned to his vision. Slowly, he turned his head toward the one who had called his name.

"Not going home?"

It was Kim Mu-ryeong.

That familiar pale face, framed by soft, kind eyes. His round, clear pupils made it feel like if you stared long enough, they would draw out every hidden thought inside you.

"You’re always like this. Just sitting around after school."

Mu-ryeong approached with his usual bright smile, the corners of his eyes folding gently. His fair cheeks dimpled, as if they could hold tiny pools of water, and his lips curled into a cheerful red crescent. Hwan-young, unconsciously, bit his lower lip at the sight.

"Oh? You still haven’t eaten the chocolate."

The light, refreshing energy radiating from Mu-ryeong was something even Hwan-young could feel. When he was younger, he hadn’t understood what this was. It was only after his parents had perished that he learned it was called spiritual energy. Some people naturally carried it, though Mu-ryeong’s presence was the first to ever clear his mind so effortlessly.

"Did you do well on your exams?"

"I just took them."

"Then you did well. You’re smart."

Mu-ryeong casually picked up the chocolate, peeling off the golden wrapper with his fingernail. It was a small, round piece of chocolate studded with bits of nuts, wrapped in foil and sealed with a circular sticker. Hwan-young blankly watched Mu-ryeong’s fingers as he unwrapped it, then blinked as the piece was suddenly held out to him.

"...What?"

"If I don’t open it for you, you won’t eat it."

Holding the chocolate between his thumb and forefinger, Mu-ryeong raised it toward Hwan-young’s lips. Since Hwan-young was sitting while Mu-ryeong stood, the angle was slightly different from usual.

"If you don’t want to take it with your mouth, you can use your hand instead."

It was déjà vu.

Something like this had happened before—he had been caught up in Mu-ryeong’s pace just like this before. Back then, and even now, he couldn’t come up with a reason to refuse.

"My hands are clean. I washed them just now."

With no other choice, Hwan-young reluctantly parted his lips.

Mu-ryeong smoothly placed the chocolate into his mouth and grinned, his eyes crinkling playfully.

"Tastes good, right?"

"...It’s good."

With a crunch, his molars broke through the chocolate’s crisp shell, and a wave of sweetness spread over his tongue. The contrast between the crunchy exterior and the soft milk chocolate inside was satisfying.

Where did Kim Mu-ryeong even find all these snacks?

Everything he gave was always delicious, yet somehow, he always brought small, cute treats—things that seemed so unlike him.

"Let’s walk to the school gate together."

Without a word, Hwan-young grabbed his bag and stood up. The rain was still falling outside, so he didn’t forget to pick up an umbrella from the stand at the back of the classroom. Mu-ryeong quietly watched him, his gaze fixed on the sleek black umbrella, before nodding in approval, looking strangely satisfied.

"You’re good at remembering your umbrella these days."

"...I just forgot that one time."

"Do you still forget now?"

"Who forgets their umbrella during the monsoon season?"

Small talk like this had become second nature by now. Mu-ryeong’s words were never particularly meaningful, yet somehow, after exchanging a few sentences, Hwan-young always found his mind clearing.

"There’s a kid in my class who got a perfect score in Korean but only 30 in English. Everyone calls him a patriot."

Mu-ryeong’s voice still had a boyish quality, as if he had yet to go through puberty. Or maybe his tone had always been light like that. Still, his way of speaking was oddly mature, making him easy to listen to.

"Seo Seung-joo nearly lost it over getting one question wrong in English. He crumpled up his test sheet like a madman."

"Still, he did well."

"What about you? What was your score?"

"100."

"..."

The hallway they walked down was quiet, just like always. The students had all gone home, leaving the corridors empty. It was a space Hwan-young would have once walked alone, but walking side by side with someone else had also become familiar.

"The monsoon will end this week."

At Mu-ryeong’s words, Hwan-young briefly looked outside at the rain. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked a question—deliberately omitting the subject.

"...Do you have a way?"

When the rainy season ended, they would finally begin moving in earnest. Mu-ryeong had promised to help him bring peace to his younger brother’s spirit. Knowing Mu-ryeong’s nature, it was likely that Hwan-young himself wouldn’t have much to do—or perhaps nothing at all.

"Yeah, I’ve already thought it through."

Mu-ryeong’s reply was confident, his lips curving into a bright smile.

How did he do that?

Even the smallest smile made his eyes curve into perfect crescents, a warmth in his expression that Hwan-young couldn’t comprehend. He had never known how to smile like that.

"So don’t worry about it."

"..."

Hwan-young slowly looked down, pressing his fingernail into the center of his palm.

It was ridiculous, but for just a moment—all his worries seemed to melt away.

It felt as if a lifetime of burdens had suddenly become insignificant, as if he could live a normal life, just like everyone else.

A life of peace, a life of stillness...

A life he was never meant to have.

***

Hwan-young first saw him on the day of their high school entrance ceremony.

He had been irritated by the unrelenting sunlight, squinting against the clear, cloudless sky. He remembered feeling exhausted—not just by the unfamiliar faces, but by the weight of their gazes, by the oppressive brightness of it all.

So, despite arriving early, he had slipped away from the classroom, wandering off to the secluded back garden to pass the time.

The weather had been just like this when Hwan-hee died.

That thought had crossed his mind as he stood there, staring blankly at the sky.

What had happened next?

Did he meet Kim Mu-ryeong first?

Or did that strange ghost appear before him?

He had felt something approaching—a presence he couldn’t quite explain. It was a sensation like an ice-cold needle tracing down the back of his neck, sharp enough to raise goosebumps.

But he hadn’t moved.

Whatever it was, he knew it couldn’t touch him.

It was called spiritual energy — a power he had learned to control, thinly wrapping himself in it like a protective veil. It was a technique he had learned from someone after his parents perished.

What he hadn’t expected...

Was that someone had been watching him.

"No—!"

Hwan-young’s senses were sharper than most—so even though it had been just a whisper, he had picked up on it immediately.

But he hadn’t reacted.

He had learned not to show when he could see ghosts. If a living person was nearby, it was better to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything at all.

Just as expected, the ghost—thick with ominous energy—failed to touch him and soon vanished without a trace. The chilling air dissipated, replaced by an oddly fresh breeze swirling around him.

And that’s when he turned his head.

It was close enough now that not noticing the presence would have been strange.

He was also just a little curious—what exactly had been “not okay”?

And then, he saw him.

No, to be exact—their eyes met.

Kim Mu-ryeong.

His light brown eyes were clear and transparent, like polished glass marbles.