Chapter 559

The aftermath of fire is always stark and desolate.

Things that once had beautiful colors have melted and burned into solid blackness, while items that could have been useful have turned into trash that isn’t even worth being called junk.

In a space that once reeked of human warmth, a pungent scent of burnt materials now fills the air, and just taking a deep breath can send a toxic air swirling through the lungs, triggering relentless coughs.

Cough, cough, cough. Only after I squeeze the breath from my lungs and feel my throat throb does the coughing finally subside, but even then, a smell that feels like smoke has stuck to the inside of my nasal membranes lingers, creating a terrible sensation that causes headaches and furrowed brows.

Then there’s the wind blowing through the shattered windows, carrying the scents of the ashes dancing about in celebration.

Just like fine sand blown in the wind, the fine ashes flutter lightly as well.

They enter the eyes, nose, and mouth, stirring up a pitch-black storm as they settle everywhere.

Is the fierce building wind attempting to scatter seeds too?

When a strong wind sweeps through a field filled with dandelions, the entire world gets covered in dandelion seeds. Similarly, the black ashes spread and cling like seeds, messily scattering in all directions.

And they will surely remain settled in that spot.

Until someone comes to clean it up.

Or until they cling to someone and embark on another journey.

Such damage cannot be easily brushed aside.

Naturally, those affected will erupt in anger, grow annoyed, and voice their complaints.

“Clean it up already!”

“Organize it quickly!”

“Or at least cover it up to prevent the ashes from flying around!”

So they fume, demand, and create a ruckus—eventually striving to do something, even taking matters into their own hands if need be.

Yet, in a scene where this should be the norm, there was none of that in this building.

Even though the fire had just broken out and the ashes were spreading everywhere, no citizen exhibited irritation, and no one volunteered to go inside to help clean up.

New York, New York, New York.

In this vast and radiant city with numerous service organizations, the fact that no one is stepping up is clearly strange.

Indeed.

For example… it can only be assumed that the danger in that building still hasn’t disappeared, which is why people are avoiding it.

“O Divine One who erected the immortal pillar, Your grace is immeasurable. Just as the salt pillar radiates brilliant white light, as long as the light of this immortal pillar does not fade, its glory will continue to be passed down on this land. O Divine One, O Divine One, who alone exists, forever unblemished and not easily worn down, let Your touch be upon this miraculous pillar that maintains its form even in the blazing flames, and come to this place to grant Your glorious light, so that the wandering sheep may peacefully close their eyes and be at rest…”

Look.

Hear that sound flowing from inside that building.

That song, sounding as though it’s blending English and Latin.

It feels as if someone is reading the Bible, singing hymns, or perhaps uttering glossolalia.

It’s undoubtedly connected to Christianity, so prevalent in this land, yet it strangely feels jumbled and foreign—almost paganistic in tone.

Even just hearing that chant makes passersby feel:

Ah, this is a dangerous place.

That place is somewhere not to be approached.

Such instinctual feelings are not something one can easily shake off.

Thus, most people, even just hearing that small sound, hastily flee the area.

And those who bear the curiosity that overcomes that instinct.

Those who are determined to delve into what transpired in that building, despite the foreboding sound calling them forward, may approach hesitantly, but—

“Hey, you can’t go in there.”

“Excuse me? Why not?”

“They say there are ghosts wandering inside.”

Those drawn by curiosity are met with someone’s restraint.

That could be someone who also tried to enter and was held back, or others who heard rumors and came to warn, acting as the ‘good Samaritan’ ensuring that accidents do not occur.

Anyone attempting to go inside will certainly be stopped, causing them to pause and listen.

“I heard that some crazies broke into that building. It’s not a terror incident or anything… You know those lunatics who sometimes engage in gun violence? They say those types came in droves.”

“Oh dear. Ugh. So many must have died again, right?”

“No. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. No one died, and only one person was taken away injured. And that person wasn’t even from an injury but rather from inhaling toxic gas due to the fire…”

“Seriously? How does that even happen…? Oh, they must have gone into an empty building?”

“Well, they did go in at night, but apparently, there were quite a number of people inside. You know what this Wall Street neighborhood is like.”

“Yeah, it’s a neighborhood where there’s bound to be people, even at night.”

And the tale begins, initially sounding like an ordinary rumor.

Then, once a sense of familiarity is established, the deeper truth starts to emerge.

The nature of a gossip who cannot keep a secret.

Eager to dig up hidden details and spread them around, driven by a desire to boast about their influence and intelligence, wanting others to know that they know such ‘secret’ information.

“Listen carefully. This is somewhat a secret story, ahem.”

“A secret story? What’s that about?”

“I don’t just share this kind of information with anyone. I’m telling you this because I’m worried that something terrible could happen if you go inside, so pay close attention.”

In a hushed voice, almost like a whisper, they begin to relay the tale.

“Apparently, there is a shaman involved in this incident.”

“What? A shaman?”

And thus, they learn the shocking involvement of a shaman in this situation.

“You mean the kind of shaman you see in dramas?”

“Yes. That kind of shaman. I heard that the owner of the building sensed something odd. Like a sixth sense, you know? A peculiar intuition that can’t be easily explained by the five senses.”

“Right. Sixth sense. I know it.”

“They must have felt an ominous presence. Or perhaps an angel appeared in a dream to warn them of danger. So the owner went to the shaman and asked for help. They asked for a spell, because something seemed about to happen—something to protect the building and the people inside, you know?”

“Is that so? Sounds like something straight out of a TV show.”

“And the shaman gladly obliged that request. I mean, it’s not like they were doing anything wrong; they were just asked for help to save people. If a shaman turned down such a request coldly, would they even be a shaman? You know how those shaman characters in dramas act. They don’t get involved in evil; they only show up for the good people! They might act as third-party influences, but they can’t side with evil. That’s just how shamans—capable people—are.”

“True, true. But don’t they tend to come off as a bit quirky?”

“That’s the point. It’s interesting how this building owner ended up meeting a shaman.”

And from there, the information flows freely.

Details about the shaman that the ‘building owner’ encountered.

“Don’t be surprised. They say this shaman is a fresh-faced child who just became a saint.”

“What? Someone who should be going off to university or just starting to live independently? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I can’t disclose how I know this, but the credibility is high. In fact, you can just keep an eye on that building. You’ll notice the shaman comes out to get something to eat during meal times. When you see them, you’ll wonder if they’re really an adult.”

“Aren’t they just looking youthful?”

“Oh, they do look young. The shaman inside is East Asian… and yeah, East Asians tend to look younger, but they really did just reach adulthood. That’s confirmed information. If you’re skeptical, just ask the shaman their age when they come out.”

“Ah, well… if you’re that confident, then it must be true.”

And once enough information about the shaman is revealed, the reasons for why one should not approach that building become clearer.

“So, the newly anointed shaman—it’s bound to be quite strange, isn’t it? You know, people just stepping into society often have a somewhat clumsy and cute demeanor.”

“That’s right.”

“The shaman is no different. That’s why they’re inside reading the Bible and singing hymns.”

“…Wait a second. Didn’t you mention ghosts? Then that means…”

“Haha. Well, even as a shaman, one cannot demand perfection from someone who has just reached adulthood, right?”

“Do you mean to say they made a mistake?”

“From what I’ve heard, hmm… it seems the building owner made some excessive demands. They say the shaman tried to dissuade them a few times, but they just couldn’t break that will. In the end, the shaman gave in to the owner’s wishes… Well, you know how slick-tongued those finance folks can be. No matter how much of a shaman they are, could someone with no life experience hold out against those kinds of people?”

“Right. So they complied with those requests, and… well, it looks like they at least got rid of the crazies. But the aftereffects still linger…”

“I guess so. Just how strong of a spell did they cast…?”

“That’s it. That’s why they say ghosts are still roaming around. And the shaman is trying to break the spell they cast for protection right now.”

“Oh, is that so? Hmmm. A young shaman… this is quite an intriguing story. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

And so, the tale spreads.

A young shaman who came from the East.

Capable of performing magic yet lacking social experience, it feels like the shaman might be wielding power in an uncontrolled manner.

Youthful enough to not seem quirky like other shamans, they come across as someone who could be hired for a bargain at times.

And thus, the tale spreads.

Imprinting the existence of the young shaman in people’s minds, creating a sense of familiarity about the shaman being alone in that burned building—

Just like that.

So naturally.

So effortlessly, an alibi is formed.

An alibi regarding Park Jinseong, the shaman.

—

Thus, fakes become real.

While the debris supports the alibi of Park Jinseong, as time settles upon the building.

“O Deity, do you happen to enjoy liquor?”

The real Park Jinseong was stepping into a nice bar alongside Rise.