Later that night, Seong Ah clasped Gyeonwoo's hand tightly, her palm warm against his cold fingers. Without a word, she led him down the dimly lit corridor toward the shaman chamber. The air grew thicker with each step, the scent of burning incense lingering like mist.
Inside, the Great Mother sat waiting. Though her eyes were clouded white, her presence filled the room with a gravity that made even silence heavy.
Seong Ah and Gyeonwoo lowered themselves onto the floor before her. Yeomhwa lingered near the wall, her back straight, arms crossed, pretending indifference—but her gaze flickered everywhere, anywhere, just not on them.
The Great Mother lifted her head slightly, her voice carrying an otherworldly resonance.
"See the ghosts within you, child. And be alert. For if you see them… if you feel them… then you are the deadly ghost itself."
The words struck Gyeonwoo like ice. His fingers twitched in Seong Ah's grasp, his jaw tightening.
"Mother," Seong Ah's voice broke the hush, soft but questioning. "I am a shaman. I too can see and smell the ghosts. Why, then, am I not a ghost myself?"
The Great Mother tilted her head, her blind eyes fixed on Seong Ah as though she truly saw her. For a long moment she was silent, listening, sensing. Then her lips parted.
"Because you are a bridge, child. You do not carry the ghosts… you guide them. Your sight is not born of curse, but of duty. But he—" her gaze turned sharply to Gyeonwoo, "—he bears a different burden."
Gyeonwoo's breath hitched, and Seong Ah immediately tightened her hold on his hand, grounding him.
The Great Mother exhaled slowly, her expression softening for the first time. "Oh… forgive me, Gyeonwoo. I should not have called you a deadly ghost. No… not yet. If only you see the ghosts, and if you alone can subdue the one bound to you—Bongsu—then the title belongs not to the ghost, but to the one who chains it."
The words hung in the air like a prophecy, their weight sinking into all who listened.
Seong Ah leaned closer to Gyeonwoo, her eyes steady with determination. "Yes," she said firmly, her voice a quiet vow. "That's exactly what I want."
Yeomhwa shifted where she stood, her arms loosening, her face unreadable. But in her silence, her thoughts burned, her eyes flickering briefly toward Gyeonwoo before darting away again.
The chamber was still, the air heavy with the faint curl of incense. Seong Ah was just about to rise with Gyeonwoo when the Great Mother's voice broke the silence, low but commanding.
"By the way, Seong Ah…"
She froze mid-step, her grip on Gyeonwoo's hand tightening instinctively. Slowly, she turned back to the old woman. The Great Mother's sightless eyes seemed to pierce deeper than vision itself.
"I nearly forgot to tell you…" she continued, her tone deliberate, each word weighed like stone.
Seong Ah felt her chest tighten. Forgot to tell me what?
The Great Mother's lips curved faintly, but it was not a smile.
"Meet Yeomhwa." Her hand lifted, trembling, pointing toward the figure leaning against the wall. "She is your step-sister, Shaman."
The words shattered the quiet like a crack of thunder.
Seong Ah's eyes widened, whipping toward Yeomhwa, who stood stiff and silent in the shadows. For the first time, Yeomhwa's gaze met hers—sharp, almost defiant, yet flickering with something unreadable beneath.
"My… step-sister?" Seong Ah's voice wavered, disbelief cutting through every syllable.
The chamber seemed to shrink, the incense suffocating. Gyeonwoo stared between the two women, his brows furrowed, sensing the storm building around them.
Yeomhwa pushed herself off the wall, her voice calm but edged like a blade.
"So," she said, eyes narrowing, "the truth finally comes out."
Meanwhile, outside the cattle pen, the Mother Goddess, Grandma, and the Great Mother walked together beneath the dim lantern light. Their voices were hushed, weighted with secrets and foreboding. Every step seemed to echo with the heaviness of the truth they carried, truths too dangerous for young shamans to hear just yet.
"The tide of fate is shifting," the Great Mother murmured.
"The children cannot bear the full weight of it now," Grandma replied, clutching her beads tightly.
"And yet," the Mother Goddess said softly, her eyes glimmering with a divine knowing, "they will have to… sooner than they expect."
The three women's shadows stretched long against the wooden fence, fading into silence.
---
The next morning, dawn spilled gently through the paper windows of Gyeonwoo's room. Seong Ah's hand, still loosely entwined with his, slipped away the moment she heard the door creak open.
Bongsu entered, his expression calm but unreadable.
"Why do you want to be in his body while in the school?" Seong Ah asked carefully, her eyes narrowing.
Bongsu didn't flinch. "I need to find something important… something that belongs to me."
She studied him for a moment, trying to read the storm that brewed behind his words. "Okay," she said at last, though her tone held warning. "But after finding it—you let me catch your hand. You won't resist me. Promise me that."
For the first time, Bongsu hesitated. His gaze softened, if only slightly, as though the idea of promising her carried more weight than he expected. Finally, he nodded once.
"Good." Seong Ah lifted her pink finger, holding it in the air between them.
Bongsu stared at it—strange, almost amused by the childish gesture. Then, with a faint sigh, he lifted his own hand and tapped her finger lightly with his.
It was a promise, fragile but binding.
---
At school, Bongsu wandered the grounds with a sharp eye, his presence cloaked within Gyeonwoo's body. His steps carried him toward the edge of the yard where jagged rocks jutted out from the earth, weathered by time. He crouched, brushing the dust away, searching, searching for something unseen.
Seong Ah followed closely, her suspicion growing.
"By the way…" she pressed, folding her arms. "What is that important thing you keep talking about?"
Bongsu didn't lift his gaze from the stones. His lips curved, not quite a smile.
"You will know soon, Shaman."
The words lingered in the air, heavy and cryptic, leaving Seong Ah with a chill she couldn't shake.
After their quiet climb down the rocky slope, Seong Ah and Gyeonwoo—still harboring Bongsu within—made their way to the archery field. The sun was sharp that afternoon, cutting through the air with a heat that clung to the skin. Students lined the range, bows strung tight, arrows gleaming against the straw targets in the distance.
Seong Ah stood just behind Gyeonwoo, her hand gently pressing against the small of his back. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but she knew it was necessary. Her touch was a silent seal, preventing Bongsu from breaking loose at the wrong moment.
Gyeonwoo raised his bow, his posture straightening beneath her hand.
Across the field, Jiho noticed. He rolled his eyes so hard it was almost audible. "Unbelievable…" he muttered, watching the way Seong Ah hovered behind Gyeonwoo as though he were some fragile porcelain figure.
The coach, however, noticed as well. His brows furrowed as he strode toward them, arms crossed. "Shaman," he called, his tone clipped, "what exactly does your hand on his back have to do with his archery form?"
Jiho smirked, seizing the moment. "Yeah, sir, ask them! Why are they acting like that on the practice field?" His voice carried, drawing a few chuckles from the other students.
But Seong Ah only smiled faintly, unfazed. She raised her hand slightly, signaling for the coach to lean closer. Reluctant but curious, he bent down, and she whispered something into his ear—words that no one else could hear.
The coach straightened, his expression shifting into something unreadable. He nodded once, then—without explanation—placed his own hand firmly on Gyeonwoo's back, mirroring Seong Ah's gesture.
A ripple of confusion ran through the field. One by one, the other players exchanged puzzled looks, then—hesitant but obedient—began copying the action. Soon, half the archery range was filled with students standing behind each other, palms pressed against backs in awkward support.
Jiho's face twisted in disbelief. "What—what are they doing?" he muttered, his irritation bubbling into frustration. He clenched his jaw, watching Gyeonwoo's arrow fly straight into the target with clean precision, as if Seong Ah's strange method actually worked.
His irritation only deepened.
Days passed in a rhythm that was both mundane and strange. Gyeonwoo continued his archery practice, each arrow slicing through the crisp evening air with precision, while Bongsu—ever restless within Gyeonwoo—scoured the area around the rocks, searching for something only he knew. The library became their shared refuge, where Seong Ah and Gyeonwoo flipped through dusty tomes, cross-referencing spells, rituals, and fragments of forgotten histories. It was a strange harmony of study, training, and vigilance.
As night fell, the quiet of the household wrapped itself around them. Bongsu, having slipped free from Gyeonwoo for a moment, retreated to the bath, letting the warm water wash away the residue of the day. When he returned, he found Yeomhwa waiting in the dimly lit chamber.
"I never thought we'd meet like this," Bongsu murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant. "Two cursed souls… bound by deeds neither of us can undo."
Yeomhwa's eyes softened, yet the edge of her usual defiance remained. "It's not a curse, not if we understand it," she replied. "We just have to control it… or at least try."
Bongsu stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Then… make me a human amulet, like Jiho's. Let me stay bound, let me be protected."
Yeomhwa nodded, kneeling to begin the delicate work. Her brush hovered over him as she painted, each stroke careful, ritualistic. The air grew thick with concentration. But then, as she reached for the small lipcare stick nearby, she stumbled slightly, and in an instant found herself falling onto his lap.
Time seemed to stretch.
Their eyes met—intense, unblinking. The proximity was electric, a silent acknowledgment of something more than just magic and duty. Neither spoke. Both felt the sudden warmth of the moment, the closeness that shouldn't have existed.
And just as quickly as it came, reality snapped back. Yeomhwa scrambled to her feet, heart pounding, adjusting her clothes as if nothing had happened. Bongsu, equally flustered, shifted away, avoiding her gaze.
Awkwardness filled the space between them, thick and unspoken, as they each returned to their work, pretending that the brief intimacy had never occurred.
Yet the memory lingered—an unspoken tension that neither of them could ignore.
Night had barely settled when Yeomhwa sat alone, her thoughts dark and restless. Her gaze lingered on the shadows beyond the window as she murmured ancient words, her hands weaving through the air in careful, practiced gestures. Nature itself seemed to listen as she called upon the unseen, petitioning the spirits to awaken Gyeonwoo's senses—to let him see, to let him smell the ghosts that lingered just beyond the veil. A mischievous, cruel spark danced in her eyes. "Let him feel weakness," she whispered, "so he knows who truly controls him."
---
The next day dawned bright and sharp, and the school's sports field buzzed with anticipation. The archery competition had begun. Jiho, Coach, and the other participants bustled around, checking quivers, adjusting stands, and making sure the bows were strung perfectly. Gyeonwoo, focused and steady, positioned himself at the line, his hands steadying the arrow as he surveyed the target.
Seong Ah arrived a few moments later, her presence immediately lighting up the field in his perception. From a distance, she observed quietly, letting her admiration guide her, her eyes sparkling with both affection and encouragement. Gyeonwoo's heart surged at the sight of her, the familiar calm of her presence grounding him.
He took his stance, inhaled deeply, and aimed. But then the world around him began to warp. His vision blurred, colors melting into shadows. Black, faceless ghosts appeared at the edges of his perception, swirling around him like ink in water. Panic prickled at the edge of his mind as he struggled to focus.
And then… through the haze, Seong Ah appeared—not just as herself, but transformed in his delirious, terror-stricken vision. She floated before him, ethereal, glowing like a fairy bathed in sunlight. Her dress shimmered with countless colors, fangs of light and magic cascading across the fabric like jeweled teeth. Every movement was graceful, hypnotic, as though the entire world had narrowed to the brilliance of her presence.
Gyeonwoo blinked rapidly, trying to reconcile the image of the glowing, magical Seong Ah with the ghosts circling menacingly around him. His hands trembled on the bow, his arrow shaking with unsteady determination. Yet, in that moment, despite the chaos and fear, her radiant form brought him clarity.
"Focus, Gyeonwoo," he whispered to himself, feeling her energy steady him even in his terror. "Don't let them control you. Trust yourself… trust her."
The ghosts lingered, malevolent and twisting, but Seong Ah's glow seemed to push them back, at least for a moment, as he readied himself to release the arrow.
The ritual in the shaman chamber had reached its peak. Seong Ah and Gyeonwoo sat opposite the Great Mother, hands linked tightly, the incense smoke curling around them like ethereal serpents. The atmosphere was thick with chanting, the murmured words vibrating against the walls, and the air itself seemed to pulse with unseen energy.
Suddenly, a sharp, unbearable ringing pierced through both their ears. Seong Ah gasped, clutching her head, while Gyeonwoo's face twisted in pain. Crimson droplets began to trickle down, staining their hair and the edges of their robes.
"Ahh—my ears!" Seong Ah cried, pressing her palms against her temples. Her vision blurred as the pain intensified.
"Seong Ah! Gyeonwoo!" The Great Mother's voice boomed through the chamber, calm yet commanding. "It is the backlash of the spirits! Their resistance grows stronger. You must endure, or the ritual fails!"
Gyeonwoo gritted his teeth, feeling the blood hot against his skin. Bongsu's voice sneered from within his mind. "This is nothing! You think a little pain can stop me?"
Seong Ah tightened her grip on his hand, her own determination burning brighter than the agony. "We can do this. Together. Don't let him take over, not now!"
The chanting intensified, and the blood began to flow faster, yet instead of succumbing to the pain, they focused on each other. Their breaths synchronized, eyes locking with fierce concentration. Slowly, the force of Bongsu's resistance seemed to weaken, the shadows around them flickering and losing form.
"Hold on… just a little more…" Seong Ah whispered, her voice trembling but firm.
A final chant from the Great Mother surged through the room like a wave, and the air snapped with energy. The blood from their ears stilled, as if the ritual had absorbed the shock, leaving them both exhausted, yet still in control. Gyeonwoo's hand ached where Seong Ah held it, but he smiled weakly, his gaze warm.
"You did it," he whispered hoarsely.
Seong Ah smiled back, tears mingling with the lingering blood on her face. "We did it. Together."
From the shadows, Yeomhwa's eyes glimmered with unease, and even Bongsu's presence seemed to waver, realizing for the first time that the bond between Seong Ah and Gyeonwoo was stronger than his own power.
The ritual had not just purified the room—it had solidified their connection, a tether forged in pain, courage, and trust.
The morning sun stretched its golden fingers across the school courtyard, but Gyeonwoo barely noticed the warmth. Today was the archery competition, yet his mind was caught between the lingering presence of Bongsu and the comforting thought of Seong Ah. She arrived late, walking briskly through the crowd of students, yet her eyes locked onto him immediately. There was a quiet strength in her, a soft glow that seemed to shield him even before she reached him.
Gyeonwoo's fingers itched to grasp her hand, to feel the reassurance he had clung to for so long. As she approached, he felt a steadying calm flow through him. She leaned close, whispering just for him.
"Gyeonwoo, breathe. Focus on your stance. Ignore the distractions. I know you can do this."
His heartbeat quickened, not from fear but anticipation. He nodded, trying to center himself, but the world betrayed him. Shadows swirled along the edges of his vision, twisting into faceless, black forms. Panic prickled at his skin. The echoes of gunfire from Bongsu's past haunted him, reverberating inside his ears.
Then, a burst of light cut through the darkness. Seong Ah appeared before him, radiant and ethereal, her dress shimmering with a strange luminescent glow, every fold and pattern sparkling like jewel-toned fangs. She hovered in his vision like a beacon, and suddenly the shadows recoiled.
"Seong Ah…" he whispered, mesmerized. Her presence alone anchored him, grounding his every trembling thought.
From the sidelines, Jiho could only gape. "What… what is happening? Are they… glowing?" His eyes widened, a mixture of awe and exasperation. "I'm officially done. Done being a third wheel in this supernatural rom-com."
Gyeonwoo lifted his bow, but the ghost's voice hissed in his mind, trying to confuse him, trying to wrest control. "You can't aim… You're weak… Let me take over."
Seong Ah stepped closer, pressing her hand gently to his back. The warmth spread through him like sunlight breaking a stormy sky. "Focus on me, Gyeonwoo. Ignore him. You are stronger than you think."
The faceless shadows shrieked and twisted, but Gyeonwoo felt clarity, the kind he had never known without her by his side. He drew the arrow back, held his breath, and let it fly. The arrow struck dead center, embedding itself in the bullseye with a satisfying thunk.
A cheer erupted from the crowd, but Gyeonwoo barely noticed. His gaze never left Seong Ah, who smiled and clapped softly, her eyes twinkling. "See? Even with Bongsu trying to mess with you, you still nailed it."
Gyeonwoo lowered the bow and laughed, the tension of the past few days easing. "Only because you were here. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Seong Ah's cheeks warmed, and she nudged him playfully. "Flattery now? Hmph. You better not get used to this."
From across the hall, Jiho groaned dramatically. "Ugh, these two… It's like watching a rom-com while the supernatural apocalypse is happening at the same time. I feel like a background character in my own life."
Meanwhile, Yeomhwa watched from a distance, lips pressed into a tight line. Her eyes flickered with anger and calculation, the subtle plotting of someone who knew the playing field was shifting. Bongsu, still trapped inside Gyeonwoo, muttered resentfully, "Shaman… I'll get you next time. You're not done with me yet."
Seong Ah looped her arm through Gyeonwoo's, their fingers brushing softly. "Next time," she whispered, "we'll be ready."
Above them, the school's rooftop glimmered in the golden morning light. A faint, eerie laughter echoed—a sound both human and not, a whisper of chaos that promised the battles, the laughs, and the confessions were far from over.
And in that moment, for the first time in days, Gyeonwoo let himself feel safe, even as the shadows loomed.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, spilling a warm glow over the school courtyard. The archery range was abuzz with activity—students adjusting targets, coaches checking bows, and participants stretching, their faces a mixture of nerves and determination.
Gyeonwoo stepped onto the range, his bow in hand, but his vision was still slightly blurred from the night's ritual. He could feel Bongsu lurking just beneath his skin, a silent whisper threatening to take control. Seong Ah, standing a few steps behind him, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"You can do this," she whispered, her voice carrying both warmth and authority. "Breathe, focus, and remember—you're not alone."
He nodded, drawing in a steady breath. With her hand lightly brushing his back, he could feel the grounding presence that kept Bongsu at bay. The other students glanced at him, noting the unusual calm in his posture. Even the coach raised an eyebrow, sensing the subtle power emanating from the young shaman beside him.
The first round began. Gyeonwoo raised his bow, aiming at the distant target. Time seemed to stretch as the arrow left the string, flying true and hitting the bullseye. A murmur of astonishment ran through the crowd.
Seong Ah smiled, whispering, "See? You've got this."
But then, the shadows in Gyeonwoo's mind shifted, a cold presence brushing against the edges of his consciousness. Bongsu stirred, attempting to disrupt his focus. Suddenly, everything around him shimmered, and dark silhouettes appeared at the edges of his vision. The targets seemed to distort, the sound of arrows hitting the ground echoing like gunshots in his ears.
"Focus on me," Seong Ah called, stepping closer. Her hands lightly grasped his, linking them. The warmth of her touch, the firmness of her presence, forced Bongsu to retreat momentarily.
The next arrow flew, hitting the target almost perfectly. Gyeonwoo exhaled, letting the tension flow out with the release of the string. He looked at Seong Ah, who gave him an encouraging nod, her eyes shining like a beacon in the chaos of his mind.
Meanwhile, Jiho watched from the sidelines, fists clenched and jaw tight. "Come on, Gyeonwoo… stay strong," he muttered, silently cheering for his friend while Seong Ah's influence kept the spirit in check.
Round after round, Gyeonwoo's focus sharpened. Seong Ah never left his side, her presence a constant tether. The competition became less about the skill of archery and more about their combined strength—human and shaman, united against the lingering threat of Bongsu.
By the final round, Gyeonwoo's form was steady, each arrow hitting its mark with precision. Bongsu tried one last surge, but the combined force of Seong Ah's belief and Gyeonwoo's determination held firm.
As the final arrow struck the bullseye, a cheer erupted from the students and coaches alike. Gyeonwoo lowered his bow, heart still racing, and turned to Seong Ah. She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face.
"You did it," she said softly. "See? Even Bongsu couldn't stop you."
For a brief moment, the weight of the ritual, the night's bleeding ears, and the fear of losing control all melted away. On the archery range, amid the cheers and clapping, Gyeonwoo and Seong Ah stood side by side, hands brushing, their bond stronger than ever.
And in the shadows, a pair of glinting eyes watched them—the ever-scheming Yeomhwa, plotting her next move, her lips curling into a thin smile.
The echo of applause slowly faded, leaving the courtyard in a tense quiet. Gyeonwoo lowered his bow, sweat glistening on his forehead, and his hands still trembled slightly from the struggle with Bongsu. Seong Ah stood close, her hand brushing his arm reassuringly.
Jiho, who had been watching from the sidelines, pushed through the crowd and threw himself next to Gyeonwoo. "Man, I can't believe you pulled that off! Even with… everything happening inside your head," he panted, his eyes wide in awe.
Gyeonwoo managed a tired smile, still feeling the lingering presence of Bongsu trying to stir. "It's… thanks to Seong Ah. She kept me grounded."
Seong Ah waved her hand dismissively, though a soft blush colored her cheeks. "You did the hard part. I just reminded you to breathe."
From across the field, the coach clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Excellent work, Gyeonwoo! That was some of the finest focus I've ever seen. You didn't just compete—you dominated the challenge!"
The praise made Gyeonwoo's chest swell, but beneath it, he could feel the faint stirrings of Bongsu. The spirit whispered, almost amused, "You think this is over?" Gyeonwoo swallowed hard, keeping his gaze on Seong Ah's calm expression.
Meanwhile, Yeomhwa lingered in the shadows near the school gates, eyes narrowing. She had seen the bond between Gyeonwoo and Seong Ah strengthen, and a flicker of annoyance crossed her features. "So, this is how it is… I won't let him grow so strong," she murmured, her fingers twitching as she began to form her next plan.
Seong Ah noticed Jiho staring at her and Gyeonwoo. "Jiho… relax," she whispered, smiling faintly. "We're fine. Right now, focus on helping him recover."
Jiho frowned, not convinced, but he nodded. He watched as Gyeonwoo finally allowed himself to exhale deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. The stress of Bongsu's presence, the pressure of the competition, and the lingering chaos of the ritual finally eased.
Later, as the crowd dispersed, Seong Ah and Gyeonwoo walked side by side, hands brushing occasionally. "You were amazing today," Seong Ah said softly.
Gyeonwoo glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I couldn't have done it without you… really."
But even in that moment of peace, the air felt heavy. Somewhere nearby, Bongsu's voice whispered from within him, quieter now, but still aware: This isn't over, shaman… not by a long shot.
And in the far distance, Yeomhwa's plotting eyes glimmered like shards of ice. "They think they've won," she murmured, "but the game is far from over…"
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the school grounds. The archery competition might have ended, but a much greater battle—one of spirits, secrets, and forbidden bonds—was only just beginning.