201 Disciple Thief

An unnamed back mountain in North Gyeongsang Province. A man and a woman in suits were laboriously climbing the mountain, where not even a trail had been cleared.

“Huff... huff...! Haa...!”

“...Phew.”

From the worn-out gaps in their suits, dried blood clots flaked off in the wind. A woman who hadn't properly eaten for days collapsed into the brush, and without anyone to tend to her, the others kept moving along the rough path.

Soon, evil spirits swarmed around the fallen woman's body. Seeing that she was still conscious, they burst into creepy laughter, then chattered in their own grotesque language as they split up her body among themselves. Crack, crack—the sounds rang out clearly.

“Damn it.”

Among the group, the especially large man—Victor, with one hand missing and wrapped tightly in bandages—spat out a curse and wiped the sweat from his face. Pitcher, standing beside him, clicked her tongue.

“Keep your voice down, Victor. This is the time to conserve even the energy it takes to speak.”

“I know that, you fucking bitch. But I can’t do it. Is this really the kind of situation where I can keep my mouth shut? Huh?”

“Still, you have to endure it. The Bureau might track us by detecting the frequency of our voices. We’ve already shaken off their pursuit once and barely slipped into this mountain swarming with ghosts. We should avoid anything that might get us into unnecessary trouble.”...