In the year 2049, South Korea became globally famous for three things: K-pop idols, instant noodles, and certified ghost hauntings.
No joke.
Ever since the world-changing incident called the Veilfall, the boundaries between the spiritual and physical realms had cracked open. Ghosts began appearing like stray cats. Some were harmless. Some weren't. Some cried. Others tried to possess refrigerators. But the worst were the Spectral-Class Beings—dead monsters that refused to stay dead.
To combat this, people began awakening as Shamans. Some were born with the ability. Others developed it from exposure to high-level hauntings. These individuals gained the power to see, control, and exorcise spirits.
Shamans were ranked based on power and spiritual compatibility:
E-rank: barely able to sense ghosts.
D–C: amateur exorcists, the part-timers.
B–A: licensed professionals, city-level protection.
S: regional-level ghost hunters, with ridiculous combat power.
SS–SSS: myth-level. The kind of shamans who could command entire provinces… or level them.
The greatest among them, even now whispered in textbooks and tea houses, was a man named Ryu Gon, a shaman so powerful they said he sealed a soul dragon using nothing but his spiritual pressure… and maybe a frying pan.
Apparently, I'm his descendant.
Yeah. Me. Ryu Jun. Age 17. Shaman rank? "Completely Normal Human."
At least, that's what I thought this morning.
---
"Why can't I be a shaman?" I muttered, kicking a pebble on the sidewalk. It bounced off a lamppost and hit a cat.
The cat gave me a look. I swear I felt spiritual pressure in that glare. Even random alley animals had more ghost energy than me.
As I trudged toward my apartment, my phone buzzed.
Mom: "Jun. Come home. Urgently."
I blinked. Urgently?
"Did the fox spirit from your yoga class escape again?"
"No! We found something. While cleaning your grandfather's closet, we discovered a letter… from your great-great-grandfather."
I stopped in my tracks. "…Wait, wait. The legendary shaman? Ryu Gon?"
"Yes. And it says he passed down his powers to you."
I almost dropped my phone. "YOU'RE SAYING I'M AN SS-RANK SHAMAN?!"
"Stop shouting. I haven't even finished reading the letter."
Mom continued calmly, like she wasn't telling me I might be an inheritor of ghost-killing nuclear warheads.
"Apparently, when your grandfather was still a boy, his grandfather—Ryu Gon—left a box behind with strict instructions. If a grandson is ever born, pass it to him. If it's a granddaughter, burn the box and toss the ashes into a lake."
"…So Grandpa Gon was a bit… traditional."
"We're about to open the box. Come home now. Also… call your uncle. There's a chance your great-great-grandpa mixed up the inheritance box with a sealed soul container."
My face turned pale. "You mean I might be holding hands with a vengeful spirit by dinnertime?!"
I broke into a sprint.
---
I jumped into the first taxi I saw and slammed the door.
"Ajusshi. Break every traffic law in Seoul. Go as fast as you can. I'll pay in karma."
The driver raised an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?"
"We found a box from my great-great-grandfather. Might be cursed. Might contain a sealed soul. Might be my birthright."
The driver squinted at the road. "Huh. My grandma said our family has a weird box too. Said there's a dragon sealed inside."
"…Is this just a Korean grandparent thing?"
---
When I arrived, the entire house was filled with relatives. Even the stingy aunts who treat every holiday like a bargain sale were here. A shaman-level family gathering meant one thing: chaos.
Mom handed me the wooden box like it was a time bomb.
"Be brave, Jun."
I opened it slowly. Inside was:
A folded letter written in crimson ink
A set of shaman tools
Two rolled-up spirit contracts
One rusty knife and a bent bell that smelled like a funeral
My Uncle Seok, a B-rank shaman who still lives with his mom and boasts about "surviving" a C-class haunting once, inspected the scrolls.
"This one's a fox contract," he muttered. "It says it's for a one-tailed fox spirit."
"That's not too special, right?" I asked.
Uncle turned pale. "Jun… this contract was made over a hundred years ago. Fox spirits gain a tail every century. And this one has royal lineage. Her parents were an eight-tail and a nine-tail."
Auntie did the math. "With that bloodline? She's probably a five- or six-tailed fox by now."
Then we checked the second scroll.
"This is a mountain guardian spirit," Uncle Seok whispered. "Name unknown. But the letter says: 'If you can't tame him, don't worry. He has a pride bigger than his mountain. Even I could barely control him.'"
I blinked. "Great. I have a diva fox and a mountain snake with ego issues."
"And these tools…" Uncle picked through the pile. "A jade knife, a bell, a sword, ceremonial robes, and... this rusty butterknife lookin' thing."
"Any of these worth money?" I asked, eyeing the bell.
"We'll sell a couple," Uncle said. "We need to enroll you in a shaman academy. Also, to avoid Ryu Gon haunting us for being broke."
He grinned. "Congratulations, Jun. You just hit the spiritual inheritance jackpot. Fox princess, snake guardian, soul-sealing tools…"
I sat down on the couch, staring at the open box like it might bite me.
"…Grandpa. How the hell do I handle this?"
I hadn't even become a shaman yet—and I already owed fried chicken to a mythical fox and had a snake spirit who might throw me off a cliff for sneezing.
Great.
Just great.