Mu-ryeong's Spirit-Chapter 48: The End of Despair (3)

Even in his second year, Hwan-young had yet to have a proper conversation with Mu-ryeong. He was in Class 3, while Mu-ryeong was in Class 7, making the physical distance between them feel even greater. He hadn’t expected to be in the same class, but he had at least thought they might end up in neighboring ones. When that unconscious thought crossed his mind, he quickly shook his head, dismissing it.

Mu-ryeong was still running around, taking on requests. The tan he had gained over the summer faded the moment winter ended, his skin turning pale again. Like some kind of molting animal—what was the point of his skin changing colors with the seasons?

"Hey, if you’re not going to walk properly, just let me carry you."

"See? Only Dad takes care of me."

"Seriously, this guy is insane..."

Maybe he had grown a bit over the break. The way he clung to his friend’s back looked slightly different from how it had in their first year. His frame seemed a little sturdier, though in Hwan-young’s eyes, he still looked ridiculously small. He had the fleeting thought that a single push might knock him over.

"Brother."

Every single day, after school, Hwan-young stayed behind, waiting for his younger brother. He stood there until the sky was stained red, until the shadows stretched long and deep, until something black slithered out from them. And when that presence crept up behind him and whispered into his ear—

"Why are you still alive?"

He wasn’t afraid. Just a little regretful. It would have been better if they had gone together. That lingering thought clung to him, refusing to fade.

It was the only time of day he truly liked. Just as when his parents’ spirits had visited him before, this was proof that he had once had a family. Even if they no longer looked human, deep down, they were still the same. His younger brother, Hwan-hee, who used to giggle when Hwan-young carried him on his back, tickling his shoulders in playful mischief.

Even if that bright and cheerful little brother had become something that harmed others.

"Sir, I need to go to the infirmary. I cut my finger."

"What happened? Go quickly."

This had been happening ever since his first year of middle school—since the day Hwan-hee started visiting him.

People around him kept getting hurt.

A friend who accidentally bumped into him fell down the stairs. A teacher who patted his shoulder ended up with a bruised hand, caught between a closing door.

And now, the class president, who had lightly tapped his shoulder that morning, was heading to the infirmary with a bleeding finger.

Hwan-young never felt any strong resentment about not being able to touch others. He had never been the type to enjoy physical contact to begin with. But in a cramped classroom of thirty students, there were limits to how much he could avoid it.

"Brother."

Maybe it would be better to just let him go.

He had lost count of how many times he had thought about it. Was it right for his brother to harm others just because he wanted to stay? Again and again, he questioned his own conscience. His beloved younger brother had become a monster, yet he couldn’t bring himself to set him free.

"I should have gone with you."

But the fear of absolute nothingness paralyzed him. More than the thought of never seeing Hwan-hee again, what terrified him was the idea that his brother might completely disappear from existence.

If the last of his family ceased to be, then what would be left for him to hold on to?

"Call Kim Mu-ryeong for me."

That was why, as a last resort, he sought out Kim Mu-ryeong.

He had nothing to go on except the memory of seeing him at the entrance ceremony a year ago. But even that was enough—enough to hope that Mu-ryeong could somehow help his brother pass on peacefully.

If that small, dark creature from before could be purified in his hands, then maybe... just maybe, Hwan-hee could return to the way he once was.

"Why do you need Kim Mu-ryeong?"

Hwan-young hadn’t expected to come into contact with Mu-ryeong’s friend. Most people avoided touching him outright, so he was caught off guard when the guy grabbed his arm without hesitation.

He immediately shook him off, but even so, he was sure that the least that would happen was a broken wrist.

And sure enough, the next day, that student didn’t come to school.

Overhearing conversations in passing, Hwan-young learned that he had gotten into a traffic accident and broken his arm.

Despite all the warnings, another person had gotten hurt.

Naturally, Hwan-young assumed Mu-ryeong would hate him. A person who could see ghosts would have no trouble figuring out what had caused his friend’s injury. That was why Mu-ryeong kept avoiding eye contact with him, why he flinched at the mention of a request.

But that didn’t matter to Hwan-young in the slightest.

Hate him or not, Kim Mu-ryeong was the kind of person who would take the request anyway. So he deliberately stated his business and turned away before Mu-ryeong could refuse.

"...Hey."

The small hand that caught his arm barely lingered for a second.

And yet, in that brief moment, the warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt stirred something deep in his stomach, making it rise and tighten.

"Sorry, but... I have somewhere to be after school today."

Maybe that was why, when Mu-ryeong let go, he unexpectedly felt disappointed.

Maybe that was why his mind went blank for a moment, forcing him to bite his tongue and choose his next words carefully.

Maybe that was why, for once, he didn’t try to push things, didn’t insist, didn’t bring up Mu-ryeong’s friend as an excuse to reschedule.

"...Do you even know what class I’m in?"

The fact that Mu-ryeong knew his class was surprising. But in reality, there was no way he wouldn’t know.

Kim Mu-ryeong was famous in his own way, and Hwan-young had his own reputation, though for entirely different reasons.

If Mu-ryeong was known for his friendly nature, Hwan-young was notorious for his cold and aloof attitude.

With how many people Mu-ryeong interacted with, there was no way he wouldn’t have heard about him.

But what mattered more than that—was the smile Mu-ryeong had given him in response.

"I know, you're in Class 3."

Mu-ryeong’s smile was something Hwan-young had seen countless times, maybe even a hundred times over. He was always grinning, so it wasn’t exactly rare. But this—this moment, seeing his expression soften so close—this was a first.

"Go on. See you later."

The light taps on his forearm felt less like a person’s touch and more like that of a small animal. A cat, a puppy, maybe even a rabbit. That must have been why the spot where Mu-ryeong’s hand had been itched so much, like he wanted to scratch at it.

After that, time slowed to an unbearable crawl. Every moment, Mu-ryeong came to mind, and by the time school was over, he had sighed so many times it felt exhausting. The dull ache in his chest, the suffocating weight pressing against him—maybe it was because the time had come to let Hwan-hee go.

"See you all tomorrow."

When the classroom emptied, the lingering sunset made it feel as though he was the only one left in the world. The noise had settled, the chaotic clamor reduced to silence, and in the hush of the fading daylight, memories flickered past like an endless panorama.

"Hwan-young."

That voice—it always sounded like Hwan-hee now.

"Brother."

Hwan-hee, today is the last time we’ll meet.

Like a fool, Hwan-young whispered his final words to his brother while waiting for Mu-ryeong. To the one who always asked why he was still alive, he said the things he would never get to say after today. He told him to stop hurting others, to stop tormenting himself. He repeated the wish over and over, knowing there was no one left to hear it.

And just as the front door opened, Hwan-hee whispered back, telling him to come with him. That he was too scared to be alone. That he wanted to be carried again, just like before, his presence brushing against Hwan-young’s shoulder like a ghostly tickle.

Hwan-young didn’t respond.

No, it was nothing more than an echo, a hallucination—but his resolve wavered nonetheless.

"You’re late."

His last hope—the one person who might save him—stood there, staring right at him. His wide eyes wavered with hesitation, his lips parting slightly as if to speak.

"...You."

What would be the ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) first thing Mu-ryeong said?

Hwan-young had imagined this moment countless times. He had spent the entire day in class thinking about it. Would Mu-ryeong demand an explanation? Would he ask if he could also see ghosts? Whatever the case, Hwan-young had already decided—he wasn’t going to answer honestly.

"You said you had a request."

But Mu-ryeong simply sat across from him, pretending not to know anything. His eyes darted around before he forced a smile, making his expression as natural as possible. His gaze never wavered from Hwan-young, as if ensuring that no one else noticed something was off.

That was unexpected.

"What’s bothering you?"

When Hwan-young said that his shoulders felt heavy, it was just a test—to see what Mu-ryeong would say. He had no intention of confessing everything. Mu-ryeong was hiding the fact that he could see ghosts, too, so there was no way Hwan-young would be the first to lay all his cards on the table.

"...That’s all that’s bothering you?"

Hwan-young didn’t trust people. Ghosts couldn’t harm him, but humans had always remained a threat. He had experienced it too many times—people who approached under the guise of kindness, only to take everything from him.

"Then let me give you a massage—"

Without thinking, Hwan-young grabbed Mu-ryeong’s hand.

A reflex.

A sudden, overpowering instinct that he had to stop him—because if Mu-ryeong touched his brother, he had no idea what would happen.

"...What the hell?"

A bright red imprint bloomed on Mu-ryeong’s pale wrist. His hand felt more delicate than expected, yet strangely solid. But what stood out the most was the energy radiating from him—it was so overwhelmingly pure, so brilliantly white that Hwan-young felt like he could hold onto it forever.

"Ah, sorry... I acted too suddenly."

It was spiritual energy. The same unique energy that Hwan-young himself carried. A rare force only certain people were born with—a sign of a soul untainted by darkness.

"People who touch me keep getting hurt."

He didn’t know anything about Kim Mu-ryeong.

He didn’t know if he was an exorcist or something else. He didn’t even know if people like him—people who saved ghosts instead of exorcising them—truly existed.

"Your friend got hurt because of me, too."

A part of him believed Mu-ryeong might help.

Another part of him knew better.

Mu-ryeong might hate him even more than he hated ghosts. He was a walking curse, a threat to those around him. Maybe Mu-ryeong would see him as something even worse than the spirits he dealt with.

So he confessed his sins, waiting for judgment.

"...What about you?"

But instead of condemning him, Mu-ryeong asked, softly, carefully, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Are you okay?"