By Ji-eun
The pain isn't just in my neck.
It's in my chest.
In my mind.
In the place where I once thought I was strong.
I'm lying on the couch in the apartment above the cafe, covered in a woolen blanket, with an ice pack on my neck—the place where the gwisin held me. Min-jae said there's a mark. Dark. Shaped like a crescent. Like a cold burn.
"It's a spiritual mark," he said, not looking at me. "It means he saw you as a target. Not a threat. As... prey."
I didn't answer.
Because he's right.
I wasn't a hunter that night.
I was a fool.
I thought two low-level gwisin would give me confidence.
That my grandmother's diary was an infallible manual.
That the tea I'd so carefully prepared would be enough.
But the Elder didn't even flinch when I threw it.
And when Dok-hee appeared…
I didn't feel saved.
I felt exposed.
As if he'd seen it all: my arrogance, my ignorance, how much I'm still a child playing with holy fire.
The café is closed today.
Sign on the door: "Closed for maintenance."
Lie.
I'm closed in because my body still hurts.
Because every time I close my eyes, I see the gwisin's face.
And I hear what he said:
"The King will walk between the worlds."
King.
Not "a powerful spirit."
Not "an ancient demon."
King.
As if it were a throne.
As if it were a war.
And me?
I'm here, drinking plain chamomile tea, trying to stop shaking.
I open my grandmother's diary again.
The Elder gwisin's page is marked.
But today, my eyes drift to the back of the notebook.
A page I'd never noticed before.
It's almost faded.
Written in purple ink, as if it were done in a hurry.
It simply says:
"If he returns… don't fight alone.
The Lost Raiders weren't a myth.
They were a group.
And one day, you'll need them."
Below is a simple drawing:
Three intertwined symbols.
An eye.
A fist.
A fox.
I don't know what they mean.
But I know what it means.
I wasn't the first.
And I can't be the last.
I wonder who could help me.
Min-jae?
He's already here. Listening to the whispers of the unseen world, translating chaos into data. He's loyal. Intelligent. But he's afraid to leave the laboratory he set up in the café's basement. Afraid to hear his sister's voice again.
Suah?
She arrived yesterday with a spiritual first aid kit—coarse salt, temple bells, an iron amulet. She didn't say anything. She just placed it on my desk.
She's strong. Physically and emotionally.
But I saw the way she looked at the diary.
As if she recognized my grandmother's pain.
Hae-jun?
I still don't know him well.
He shows up at the café every now and then, always with an easy smile and a ready joke.
But yesterday, when I passed him in the alley, I saw something strange:
His shadow…
had a tail.
Just for a second.
Then it was gone.
As if he were hiding.
And Dok-hee?
He didn't show up today.
Or yesterday.
Or before.
But I know he's nearby.
Because his old coin is still on the table in the corner.
And the smell of woodsmoke—his smell—still lingers in the air.
He saved me.
But he didn't look me in the eye.
He spoke as if I were a child who had broken the rules.
And yet…
When he held the staff, the world stopped.
The gwisin recoiled.
As if afraid.
Who is he?
Why does he protect this place?
And why, even in his anger, didn't he let me die?
At night, I dream of the Elder.
But it's not him speaking.
It's a deeper voice, coming from nowhere and everywhere.
He sits on a throne made of broken chains, under a starless sky.
He wears an antique straw hat, but his face…
is never clear.
He holds a staff identical to Dok-hee's.
But his is pitch black, and it drips with shadow.
"You failed, little light," he says, his voice a chorus of broken voices.
"But failing is the beginning.
Soon, you will seek the others.
And when you do…
I will be waiting."
I wake with my heart racing.
The rain beats against the window.
The café is dark.
And for the first time…
I make a decision.
I will no longer go out alone.
I will no longer pretend I can carry this alone.
I need a team.
I need hunters.
And maybe…
the café isn't just a portal.
Maybe it's a calling.
I pick up a new notebook. I write at the top of the page:
"People who can help me."
And below, I begin to list:
Min-jae – Hearing the invisible. Technology + instinct.
Suah – Physical and spiritual strength. Knows the cost of loss.
Hae-jun – Illusion. Disguise. He knows more than he says.
Dok-hee – ? ? ?
(I put a question mark. Then I write: "Power. Unknown loyalty. High risk.")
And below, in smaller letters:
"The King knows my name.
So I need to know his."