Chapter 237

The sound of breathing, like that of someone sleeping.

And the muscles relaxing in time with that breathing.

“Whoosh—hh—”

Jinseong lay still, completely relaxed atop what seemed like a child’s drawing of a pattern.

His limbs hung loose, his head resting on a chunk of oak wood imbued with the scent of burning herbs. Normally, such a hard pillow might make it difficult for someone to fall asleep, but the subtly permeating smell of the herbs had relaxed Jinseong’s spirit and numbed his body.

Moreover, his steadily deepening breathing and the relaxation of his muscles were assisting his descent into sleep.

Jinseong did not fight the drowsiness overcoming him and allowed his slowly closing eyelids to shut completely. As his thin layer of eyelid covered his eyes, only the faint changes in light filtered through, growing darker alongside Jinseong’s consciousness.

“Darker.”

“Gradually darker.”

“Whoosh—hh—”

As the world around him grew dark, Jinseong’s spirit felt heavy. Darkness clung to his consciousness like mud, dragging him ever deeper into the abyss of his mind.

He was falling.

Dropping.

Continuously.

Unceasingly.

The speed of his descent accelerated with time. The breathing mantra Jinseong recited mimicked the breathing of someone sleeping, evolving naturally as his muscles relaxed. His spirit sank into the deeps, finally reaching its destination.

His spirit stopped not at the deepest part of his mind, nor on the surface, but somewhere in between.

In that central space awaited a small speck of light.

It glowed faintly like a tiny dot drawn on black paper with a sparkly pen, shining brightly to catch Jinseong’s attention. His consciousness, using the light as a beacon, swam gently toward it. The dim glow gradually came into focus, revealing its form.

It was a minuscule flame.

A speck of light too small to even be called a spark.

But it was definitely burning, carrying within it the essence of fire, and it remained connected to Jinseong.

A living flame.

A life born within Jinseong’s body, sent out according to Jinseong’s will into someone else’s.

This entity was known as a “hissuung” (吸蟲), or parasite.

Once feared and known as “distoma,” it terrified people and could invade their bodies when in its larval form, posing a serious danger.

In its larval stage, the hissuung is called “sairakia” (cercaria), which swims in water and enters a person’s skin once they step into it. Afterward, it sheds its tail, travels within the body, and matures into an adult form that begins to reproduce.

When Jinseong shook hands with William, the sairakia left Jinseong’s hand and burrowed into William’s palm. Remarkably, it reached the brain’s nerves without losing the essence of fire and matured to its full adult form there.

This adult that had taken its place was originally from Jinseong’s body.

“Behold! The offspring who has successfully taken root after leaving the mother’s embrace. Even though you have departed far to build your home, your roots remain unchanged. Just as a seed from one fruit does not forget its origin, or as soil that rises to the sky eventually falls back to Earth, you must not forget the embrace of your mother!”

Jinseong mentally shouted to the glowing parasite.

Though no bell was present, he made its ringing sound within his consciousness, spreading his will through the darkness of his mind, projecting it as though actual sound.

He made a sound without a mouth and saw the mature parasite without eyes. Despite their bodies being worlds apart, Jinseong connected with it, beyond any distance, creating a tenuous thread of awareness between them. This thread transcended all boundaries.

Time.

Space.

Flesh.

Jinseong’s spirit ignored all these barriers. Despite sinking deep into his consciousness, it was lighter than anything in the world and completely unbound, navigating through the heavy and sticky darkness with ease, like a monster swimming effortlessly in mercury.

He submerged in the ocean of his spirit, projecting his will into another life and binding himself to it. The parasite, insignificant as it was and already subservient to Jinseong, offered no resistance and submitted entirely to him, placing all its instincts in Jinseong’s control.

Though separated in flesh, their spirits were now united. The parasite had returned to its mother’s embrace. By grasping it, Jinseong had also gained control over its physical domain.

Jinseong traced the spirit of the parasite back to its physical form, identifying its location and gaining influence over the brain’s neural pathways it had invaded.

The essence of fire.

There were many fires burning, and fire itself was multifaceted.

“Oh mighty flame! Like fire on the ground yearning for the sky and the fire in the sky yearning to pierce the ground, you serpentine fire, embodying the vastness of volcanoes, ascending with the fragments of the land, and falling back to the ground with light. Oh, fire serpent infused with light.”

With his powerful will, Jinseong transformed the essence within the parasite.

The burning flame turned into a glowing light, then into electricity.

And thus, the parasite, imbued with this new power, became a chip embedded in the brain.

Of course, just because it could perform the role of a chip did not mean Jinseong could fully utilize it.

How could a tiny insect containing electrical energy be compared to the advanced brain chips created by future scientists?

All Jinseong wanted was the simplest of things: to create a tiny portal through the parasite for a peek.

And…

Zzzzzt.

Zzzzzzt.

Jinseong’s attempt was successful.

The tiny opening created by the parasite connected with Jinseong, gradually revealing William’s dreams through the noise-filled darkness.

Zzzzzt.

Zzz—t.

The noise flickered in white and black, eventually forming a recognizable shape.

It was the alphabet.

“C— r—n—da.”

The alphabets floated like newspaper clippings piecing together a letter, sticking randomly to their places regardless of orientation.

“Christmas is quite a piece of shit.”

As the alphabets formed the first sentence, they scattered into a video.

A video filled with sounds and words.

—

—

—

Christmas is quite a piece of shit.

Just like the accursed weather in England.

Back in old London, smog used to settle thickly on the ground, resembling fog, they say.

They called it a lethal fog. One sip and it would make you cough; continued inhalation led to a ruined lung and death.

That cursed smog became known as storm clouds. Though not poisonous, it drizzled with disgusting water droplets, soaking expensive clothes and ruining people’s cool appearances, becoming an abhorred beast.

And Christmas was as filthy and disgusting as that beast—

An item too disgusting even to think about.

Christmas.

C-R-I-S-M-A-S.

Oh, shit Christmas.

When Christmas came around, the old farts in the house were desperate to drag me to church.

And there the guy with the shaved head, dressed in black, would come out and say something to me.

“O, may the Lord’s blessing be upon you this Christmas.”

While I, with an indifferent expression, completely ignored him, my parents would chime in.

“Merry Christmas! May the Lord’s blessing be upon you!”

And then they’d start talking about things I couldn’t understand.

How about donations? What about the Great Ritual of Magic? Thank you for contributing your precious magical ingredients.

Listening to these endless stories, it was natural to get heated up, and I’d want to shake off the hands holding me and run away.

Listening to these endless stories made it impossible not to feel bored and restless, leading me to act out.

Then, the priest conducting ‘important discussions’ would say to me.

“Must be bored, aren’t you? I’ll take you to where the kids your age are playing.”

Pretending kindness and compassion, faking care for children.

These priests in robes constantly harass boys my age, and their actions always make it into the newspapers.

Disgus-ta-ng hypocrites.

Hy-poc-rytes!

And when I shook off those disgusting hypocrites, I’d be led to a small room in the corner. There would be the sound of children happily playing, making me feel increasingly annoyed.

Why are you all so happy while I’m so irked?

Damn annoying kids.

“Hope you enjoy your time here. Merry Christmas!”

Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.

Disgusting Christmas!

Eat shit!

And when you open the door to that room, you see it.

C-R-I-S-M-A-S.

The repulsive sculpture the kids called “The Christmas”!